#i dont even watch the show i just think the aesthetics neat

[renrenkaaa]

Back to your regularly scheduled Obeposting, Bridgerton themed this time

[pisspurveyor]

Ok so here's a horrifying tale of when I discovered the existence of the movie The Crow 30 years too fucking late this Friday, and somehow never even knew a remake came out for it on the exact. same. day. Bear with me.

Ok so I was on spotify listening to this song (song in question was L.I.S.Å by Taythedxn, please dont look at me) that for some reason had footage of this random ass guy in clown makeup playing in the Now Playing/More Info preview. And I was like - huh! That guy kinda reminds me of my BG3 Tav!!! Nice!!! Naturally I'm pretty interested to find out what the hell is going on with that. So, thinking it's just the music video for that song, I look it up. To my surprise, that was not the music video at all!

At this point I'm massively curious. I am sitting there absolutely dumbfounded and stubborn as shit; I had to find this gorgeous clown man, even if it was 1 am at the time. I was on a MISSION! Finally I managed to muster enough braincells up to reverse image search the guy, and lo and behold, The Crow (1994) pops up. Bingo! There's the gorgeous clown guy!

At first I'm just showing pictures of the main character to my partner like Look!!! Look!!! He looks like my Tav in clown makeup!!!! Woah!!! And then I mention the movie to him, and well- (gonna cut the post in half for you, don't worry 'just browsing' crowd)

My partner being the resident Nine Inch Nails listener pointed this out to me. SO IT HAD THE MARK OF NINE INCH NAILS? I was stoked - Trent Reznor being involved in any soundtrack has always been a great indicator in my eyes. Because of that, I just had to check out the rest of the soundtrack, and I was in AWE.

ALL THESE GOBSMACKING BANDS IN THE SAME SOUNDTRACK. I WAS ABSOLUTELY FLUNG OUT THE WINDOW ABOUT THIS (as seen above).

At this point I was sold, I was GOING to watch this movie. I was deadset on it. And, to my luck, I found it free to watch on youtube... somehow. Still surprised about that. No I'm not linking it, I'm not a snitch, but I assure you it's very accessible. Anyways, I sit down, get comfortable, and get my shit ABSOLUTELY ROCKED. Aesthetically, this movie is everything I love - I had a lot of fun watching it (big fan of the lightbulb scene btw).

Anyways I had the time of my life watching it, really soaking the music and outfits in, absolutely hollering at every indulgently gothy scene. Honestly, what a fucking experience - Eric was a sight to bloody behold. God, I was googoogaga for Myca too!!! The fashion was immaculate, a lot of the costumes are things I try to replicate and wear myself nowadays, so I was beyond stoked to see that right in front of me. I may or may not have a new style guide now!

I finished the movie in a good mood, and ultimately wondered: Why had I never heard of this before? Naturally I check wikipedia, see what production was like and what it was based off of - really neat to see it was based off of a comic, but then as I read on and found out the whole story behind Brandon Lee's death on set, I was very quickly silenced. Suddenly it was way more grave than I anticipated.

Honestly it's a bit weird to mourn a dude 30 years later, but this may be one of the sadder celebrity deaths I've ever heard of. And knowing the effect it had on the original comic artist, who had been through enough shit in his life as is, was absolutely heartbreaking.

So now I sit here, unable to stop thinking about this movie, the comic it came from, and how I managed to stumble across it without even once encountering any advertisements or trailers for the remake that had released on the exact day I had found the original. Don't get me wrong, if anyone discovers the original because of the remake, I think that'd be fucking amazing, because the original deserves lots of love on top of the love it already has - but now knowing the remake was a piece of rubbish, I'm worried people might not look into it.

This may well have been the worst time to discover The Crow (1994) but holy shit, it is forever on my mind from here on out. I wish I had known it sooner, truly. As someone who considers themselves a goth, I did myself a serious disservice by not watching this sooner, I swear.

[rata-novus]

‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎better late than never!

༄₊ ⊹🎃✧˖°. ☾ october/horror 2024 watches ☽ ༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

🎃 Senritsu Kaiki File Kowasugi (10/7-x) overall, not what i expected, but not bad. only got thru half the series in spooky month, will finish eventually.

ep1 (10/7): kinda slow, but not boring. the final shot of the woman in the doorway gave me goosebumps.

ep2 (10/10): first third/half SUPER effective for me, esp the whole part where ichikawa's flashlight would turn off at the same point in the room. creepy. but then the last part was genuinely ?????? super intriguing but idk really what happened? the metaphysical/scifi aspects weren't ~scary~ to me but i keep thinking abt the episode so

ep3 (10/10): monster horror isnt my thing so eh, but the revelation at the end that those 2 characters are slowly turning into kappa like its an infection was neat.

ep4 (10/11): favorite so far, loved the spatial/time manipulation. but the scene of them time traveling. lol. lmao even.

ep5 (10/11): really liking how each episode is its own thing but clearly pointing to something bigger connecting everything. real curious abt what kudo "sees" since his coma incident.

ep6 - 10: DNF. didn't grip me compared to other stuff i wanted to watch, will finish at my own pace eventually.

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🎃 milk and serial (10/12) liked. flew by, didn't feel like an hour+. mc was super creepy & unhinged. acting felt real & natural. liked the twists. i think naomi & link finding milk's box w/ address to his torture shack was by his design. sequel maybe?

🎃 the void (10/12) liked. FANTASTIC practical effects, wowzers. kinda okay story, more aesthetics than plot but w/e. BIG silent hill vibes though a cult facilitating a "god" to be born, resurrection/reincarnation, physical manifestations of guilt and grief, etc. but like.... spacey/cosmic horror. v different from most mid-2010s or even modern day horror and i appreciate that.

🎃 the empty man (10/13) idk. intriguing but i really dont get the whole part about the people committing suicide. i feel like this is one of those movies i need to deep dive ppls meta analysis to really ~get it~. bc i don't really. honestly my favorite part was the very beginning w the freaky skeleton. what is he transmitting............

🎃 noroi: the curse (10/13) eh. kinda slow. unclear on certain plot points: what was the significance of kana being psychic and drawing that symbol/face/mask? what's up with the boy - another medium? hori was v distracting and borderline exploitative. liked how the seemingly disjointed segments started to connect together, but unfortunately didnt go all the way (see ? above) and too much unresolved. seen better japanese horror and found footage horror tbh sorry

🎃 late night with the devil (10/14) first off -1000000 for using genAI fuck that. second, god the beginning was as boring & cringey as a real late night talk show. which like, yeah ofc but also. i dont want to watch that so no ty. but lilly's appearance at the end was v cool, split head, coursing electrical energy. really liked that a lot. overall better than i thought it was gonna be, but just to the side of okay.

🎃 lake mungo (10/19) quite sad. being haunted by your future death reminds me of nell from haunting of hill house. alice meeting with the psychic and seeing from the perspective of her ghost in the future, paralleled with her mother in the future doing the same and not sensing alice anymore.... big sad. :( some of the spooky stuff did get to me. the recording of alice seeing her future dead body and the reveal that the neighbor was lurking in the house in one of the recordings especially. wtf grossssssss. overall more sad than scary, but i liked it. more effective for me than i thought it would be after reading reddit posts hating it. i feel like i need to be a defender of it now lmao

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🎃 midnight mass overall: forgive me father for i have sinned 🫦 -- dunno if it unseats hill house as my favorite flanagan show but damn it was fantastic.

ep1 (10/19): interesting. if i didnt already know it was abt vampires id be scratching my head rn. the final shot of the cats on the beach was laughable, and thats coming from a sensitive bitch who cant stand animal deaths in horor & frequently uses doesthedogdie lmao ....... rahul kohli can absolutely get it tho

ep2 (10/20): ok first off that whole bit about "pregnant people" was weird af and completely unnecessary. coulda just normalized inclusive language but instead we gotta draw attention to "umm actually ☝️🤓 its usually pregnant women". w/e. -- i think the cats were killed as sustenance (neck wounds), but idk abt the dog being poisoned? the vamp(s) just trying to get rid of the animals on the island so they dont act odd/pick up on the vamps? or smth specifically targeting that one guy, by the nun lady? hmm. -- was the (i presume) vamp stalking the pregnant lady from her house to the clinic bc it could sense her breakthru bleeding??? uew. -- the mimic of the voice near the end was a banger omg so creepy, and i love the reflective eyes v v v good. -- re leeza walking, something in the wine???

ep3 (10/20): is monsignor pruitt this new father paul????? fountain of youth ayoooo. but is he the vampire? nah hes the renfield aint he. what was with the trunk of dirt? ohhh ancestral soil ofc -- theory: the sheriff is gonna be the one to cotton on to smth being wrong bc he doesnt go to the church/drink the wine -- the scene between leeza & joe was so powerful, wow..... -- was father paul poisoned like the dog? kinda bummed if hes dead for good i thought for sure he was gonna be one of the (the only?) antagonists nvm lol, immortal? -- also comparing a vampire to an angel, esp in this context, is sick as hell, love that -- honestly getting big salems lot vibes which i do NOT hate at all tbh, also a bit of exorcist thrown in with the middle east and ruins and smth ~evil~ there

ep4 (10/21): ohhh is monsignor turning into a vampire? sun sensitivity.... -- noooo poor joe :( -- what is up with erin's "miscarriage"/never having been pregnant and her blood reacting to the sun when afair she never drank the wine? -- and riley too damn........

ep5 (10/21): oh hey well guess thats where the title comes from lol -- not, like, super duper crazy with the loooooong chunks of monologue tbh. sometimes it hits like with riley & monsignors back and forth over guilt but other times ehhhh -- speaking of, anyone else down bad for the priest or just me? ok nvm -- so far it seems the og vamp only ate from the stray cats, bowl (bill) and riley so far (maybe the mayor & wife but unclear), and it seems like its been a couple weeks since it arrived so the hunger must not be THAT insatiable, for like 99% of the town population to remain (relatively) unharmed? like, if everyone or even just MOST of them are turned, who they gonna eat? -- on the one hand riley being greeted in death by the uninjured form of the girl he killed in a car crash is beautiful. oh the other hand subjecting the love of your life to watching you burn to fucking death and now shes gonna row back to land with ur smoldering corpse is like. supremely fucked up riley. like i get that erin has to ~see to believe~ but what the hell man. the credits rolling and listening to her screams..... D:

ep6 (10/31): so it's not just the consumption of a vampires blood that makes one a vampire, but death as a catalyst for resurrection. holy shit i love that, flanagan you mad man. -- oh shiiiiit mildred shooting former lover priest in the head damn bitch okay -- bev you pussy ass bitch wont even drink the poison smh my head

ep7 (10/31): "it never felt like a sin, you never felt like a sin and our daughter was never a sin" aoughhhh this got me cryin -- was really rooting for the sheriff to make it out alive :( -- never been religious and have 0 religious trauma but god damn this show got me good, weeping all thru the end

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🎃 rosemary's baby (10/22) regrettably by roman polanski, but 🏴‍☠️ so eh. overall i really liked it. i had seen bits and pieces and i feel this is one of those medias that you kind of know through osmosis, but it was still an enjoyable watch, if not disturbing at times. tho minnis voice and mannerisms reminds me of vic's nana from very important people lmaoooo i cant unsee/hear it

🎃 event horizon (10/22) so far INCREDIBLE visuals, giving big hellraiser vibes with the disfigured/cut up bodies & the elaborate incomprehensible yet decorative engine brings to mind a mix of the lament configuration and biblically accurate angels. incredible. -- why only trauma hallucinations from a few of the crew? the rest were just peachy keen? not a smidge of trauma? bummer tbh -- hot damn the gore visuals are blink and u miss it but sick as hell -- but what happened with justin? rescue crew said he was alive but like.... mentally???? -- pacing felt just a titch off, like shtf so close to the end i feel like the descent could have been smoother, but otherwise i really loved this one

🎃 the exorcist (book) (10/1 - 10/23) liked WAY more than i thought i would. gonna be 4 stars for reference. 2 things i disliked: chris' internal monologues were annoying and shes more than a bit of a yuppie (the point i guess), AND the fact that psychokinesis is just a FACT in this world (ie possession can't be concluded by moving objects / mind reading bc those are observable in clinical settings in ppl with mental issues) bothered me so much!!! like..... if a DEMON can read your mind, move objects, as established w regan, you can't just chalk it up to NO WAY being possession. wtf???? anyway, everything else was great. really liked the reveals (regan's paint found at the church desecration, regan speaking backwards & mentioning merrin before he's even seen on page). the foreshadowing of karras' demise. very disturbing scenes iykyk, and even the detective parts were fun in the end. dunno if i'll read the sequel (legion) but i've heard the show is v good? 👀

🎃 hell house llc (10/25) 1 (10/25): love, it's a classic at this point, most of the scares dont get to me but surprisingly a few still do, solid ending 2 (10/25): kind of worse acting than the first but still liked, enjoy where the overarching plot is going re drawing people to the house 3 (10/25): definitely upped the production value, the scene of the actress in the basement with the clown is top tier but otherwise it was okay. first is still the best tbh, feels like they explained too much and im more of a fan of ambiguity. since the first 3 films take place in the same building, there's a weird feeling of familiarity & coziness lmao, i could see this series being a comfort rewatch fr origins (10/26): margot was definitely at the fair where tully/cult was kidnapping ppl for the abaddon hotel sacrifices, huh. -- did NO ONE think to check rebecca's cam w/ the body on the bed???? like they've seen other proof of the supernatural but cmon -- ohh that whole scene of rebecca screensharing w her boss and the pictures leading right up to her bedroom door grossssssss bleghhhh i love it -- overall liked this one a lot. still confused abt some stuff (where was the dad's body? why was patrick's arm better? his place in the cult, are the souls (patricks?) bound to the clown costumes etc), but super effective horror for me. sometimes i dont need all the qs answered u know?

🎃 the outwaters (10/26) ppl on reddit said they hated this as much as skinamarink & both are deathly boring but i LOVED skinamarink so lets gooooo -- 38 minutes in. is like...... no one going to aknowledge these sounds???? -- i get the bugs being creepy but are these donkeys supposed to be ominous? bc they just look like sweet cute babies 2 me -- these are the WORST flashlights in the entire world my GOD. -- suddenly, screaming flesh snakes. sure why not -- ooohh space time fuckery? is robbie the axe man? -- i literally cannot see what's happen 90% of the time, its like trying to watch a movie through a pinprick. like near the end he could have been pointing a flashlight at a bbq beef brisket for all i could tell. certainly a choice meant to invoke the claustrophobia and isolation and confusion of the pov, but missed the mark. by a lot. -- theres some neat ideas in here (time travel/time loop where robbie is the one killed and also the killer, with cosmic horror to boot), if i could see anything. loved skinamarink, super effective for me and though it was grainy at least you could SEE, this was. eh. i will say the sound design was great. would have loved to see literally any part of the entity near the end that's making it! the end itself was actually good imo, grotesque but better than seeing a 90% black screen tbh. potential.

🎃 lovely, dark, and deep (10/29) very interesting visuals, kinda cosmic horror in the woods. reminiscent of the "stairs in the woods" and "search and rescue" nosleep stories. also big PT vibes, especially in the scenes in the house, very cyclical/loop in nature but different traumatic events each go thru. love a horror movie that doesnt hold your and and leaves the interpretation up to the viewer. backrooms-esque liminal space? purgatory? mc processing her grief and trauma? dream sequence? hell? are the woods just real fucked up in this natl park? yes. (unfortunately?) it was kinda explained at the end, but i still really liked it. i dunno now the mc could keep working as a ranger, knowing that they just.... let this shit happen. and to perpetuate it....... i do wonder abt the ranger in the beginning, making the choice to get taken. what was his story?

🎃 a house at the bottom of a lake (10/29 - 10/31) 4.5 stars. idk what exactly happened, but i really loved it. great atmosphere (dark, under water, claustrophobic - frankly do not understand people who say this isnt horror lmao), easy to read in a day, perfect for halloween (when I read it). i interpret the ending as james and amelia still being under the obsession of the house, possibly still underwater. like the past 12-or-so days was a "test" of some sort. what finding the house in the real world means, i dont know, but i'm all for horror not holding my hand and it just being about ~the vibes~ which this one nailed for me. the scenes where the flashlights go off? and then house lights turn on? chilled. incredible what you can enjoy when u dont have a hater yappin in ur ear that it sucks <3 

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[ * = re ]

(series) • alien (alien*, aliens*, alien 3*, resurrection*, prometheus, covenant, romulus) • hell house llc (1*, 2, 3, origins) • midnight mass

(films) • nightmare on elm street • the thing* • the outwaters • noroi • the void • event horizon • rosemary's baby • lovely, dark, and deep

(youtube) • backrooms (kane pixels)* • gemini home entertainment*

(books) • the exorcist • uzumaki*

(next year, or b4 next halloween) • smile 2 • the substance • in a violent nature • horror in the high desert • leaving dc

[krystalin3]

Started to watch Ranma 1/2. Neat to notice how clearly I remember certain moments, they must've repeated similar episodes when I saw the show as a kid, or maybe it was reused animation, or maybe I loved the show so much it's THAT ingrained in my head.

I had also started Sailor moon, but I think I'll commit more to Ranma 1/2 cause while I adore the colors and aesthetics of sailor moon, I find the main girl waaaay too annoying. Like, it's just annoying to hear her cry and yell so much. It's a cute show, but I do feel a lil uncomfortable by her character

Like, I don't understand that kind of extreme expression of emotion. Even if I try to remember how I felt when I was a kid(recognizing her character is very young) i dont think i ever felt so loudly. And that, feels alien to me.

The older age of the Ranma characters make it an easier show cause I understand their emotional range much better. I feel ive felt things closer to what they show in Ranma 1/2...

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don���t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

[teeth-and-tea]

ANIME & MANGA I HAVE BINGED IN THE LAST MONTH: May 2021

I've Been Hunting Slimes for the Past 300 Years and Now Ive Maxed Out My Level: incredibly long name aside, cute af slice of life that suffers Same Face Syndrome. I'm still happy to watch it because of how feel good and fluffy it is though, Im probably gonna forget about it in two or three years tho. 8/10.

Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro: I found out this was a webcomic first and suddenly all the HORNINESS made so much more sense. A Femdom, Degradation, Humiliation, Dacryphilia Bullies to Lovers story disguised as a high school rom-com which, I'm not going to lie, misses SKEEVY CITY by mere inches on a regular basis. However, I'm a Dom/Switch and this entire relationship sets off my dom brain center like New York City just shy of midnight. So if you're into that sort of scene, this anime is for you. If not, it's still fascinating but you're probably gonna be a little put off by how mean the Girl!Bully is to the guy MC. Unless you find out something about yourself, in which case, congrats! Stay safe, sane, consensual, and learn about the traffic light system on top of safe words, I promise you'll have a better life in general after that. Still Ongoing, currently 10/10.

Fruits Basket: IM GONNA CRY I LOVE THIS ANIME SO MUCH???? The original anime came out when I was in... I think middle school and my parents were really strict on what I watched so I never got to experience the first wave and I never bothered to watch the show ever after I moved out of the house years later. However, now that I'm much older I honestly can say this is one of my favorite anime to date, and all the characters are charming, lovable, with their own problems that I can connect to or sympathize with, and I love the MC which is always a treat tbh. Except Akito. Akito can suck a sandpaper dick. I'm only on S2 tho so no spoilers! Anime 11/10.

Monster Girl Doctor: went in thinking it was gonna be a monster girl who's a doctor with a homoerotic assistant (her name is SAPPHY okay sue me for thinking it) and ended up watching the entire dubbed harem series. Honestly, I've seen worse and this one has consistent follow-through on interesting characters and backstory enough for me to shove aside the blatant under-monstrousness of the female monsters and the harem-ness of everything else. Dubbing is honestly really good, which is a treat, and the monster designs are not the worst and the MC is tolerable. Honestly, I don't mind having watched it! The mix of cgi and the traditional animation together work pretty strangely though, and it often doesn't flow super well. 7.5/10

So I'm a Spider, So What: Dubbed version which honestly isn't that bad. Took me a bit to get into it, but after realizing that it's got a mismatched timeline a la The Witcher, it made so much more sense. Heavily done in cgi, and you can definitely tell between the 2D and 3D animations, but not the worst in the world. I went in not expecting much but it ended up being an Issekai I can stand and even enjoy. On god has a decent story... with the spider. I'd be a liar if I didnt say I skipped some of the human parts just to get back to the best part of the show. 8/10.

Somali and the Forest Spirit: I'm so fucking nostalgic for this thing it makes me want to go and hug my dad. About a human girl under threat of being eaten with a monster-dominated world. Very obvious "humans fear what they don't understand" message but instead of the humans learning tolerance it's what happens when they get annihilated first so like, kudos for the mangaka for having the guts to do that. I cried like a baby regularly. It's really good, I watched the dub and ID WATCH IT AGAIN!!! 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Oh my god. O h my g o d. Fell in love on the first episode, ngl. About if an immortal being learned how to be a person from scratch. I love it. HOWEVER. Keep a box of tissues on you at all times because you're gonna need them. I'm only on EP7 because that's all that's out right now but just know. I love it. Not for everyone but certainly for my "what do we define as human and the human condition" ass. 12/10.

Those Snow White Notes: A sports anime without any sports. About shamisen playing which is cool because I never realized how cool this instrument was??? Its neat af. OP1&2 are by Burnout Syndrom so know theyre fire. Gonna be real, its pretty alright, but not extraordinary. You can tell they were using the characters as archetypes rather than actually characters which kinda kills a lot of the emotional value you could've had, but I'm still gonna watch it. It doesn't make me cringe as hard as other sports anime tho so I consider it toptier in that regards but if you're a big sports anime fan you might be bummed out by it. Every single musical performance is INCREDIBLE tho. A solid 8/10.

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun: THE ART OMFG IT'S SO GORGEOUS. Listen, if you took coptic markers and gave them an animation budget with some manga panel direction thrown in there, that's this anime. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. I'm in love with the aesthetic every second. Story? Really good. Characters? I love the MC and his evil little twin brother asshat. Demons? Not super imaginative but I'm carrying on happy as can be anyways. Dubbing? A bit shaky at times but I found the voices charming if a little off for some of them. I'm already waiting for the second season with popcorn at the ready. 10/10.

Prison School: I watched this directly after Hanako-kun and it was like I got slapped in the face by sweaty unwashed titties and some fedora wearing schmuck's piss kink. No character is likable or redeemable. I finished it, but at what cost? 2/10 and only because a character shit his pants and I laughed.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle: watched this right after Prison School and it was NECESSARY tbh. Its so CUTE and honestly, im not even kidding you, the fucking funniest anime I've seen in months. I watched the dub and the VAs are having the time of their lives working on this anime not just giving it their all but literally just going ham. Its great. If I read this im sure id be bored outta my mind but the VAs giving it a joyous performance make it an insta fave for me tbh. 9/10.

Sk8 the Infinity: i watched the dub with my bro and I can confirm that its a spectacular show because we both loved it and we have vastly different tastes. Incredibly SUSPENSFUL AND STRESSFUL for an anime about skateboarding but we finished it in a single sitting tbh. The last episode is not dubbed for some reason but we still loved it. Like if Free! was less obnoxious but the only fan-service here is Joe ♡ a beefcake who owns my lesbian heart. I think there's exactly one named female character tho and I legit couldn't tell you what it was if there was a gun to my head. So, over all, 9.5/10.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: I'm going to be entirely honest, I went in thinking it was going to be a boring isekai of no value. I was right about the Isekai part. It was honestly pretty interesting and focused on nation building like you're playing civilization rather than the usual "Get Stronger" narrative or "Get Some Pussy" narrative most isekais take which is delightfully refreshing. Granted there are flavors of that in this which means it doesn't alienate the big isekai watchers out there, but it's not the whole dish and it doesn't make me want to cringe the same way others do. You've got a slime MC just vibing and building a nation of monsters nbd. Does lose points for making the female monsters more humanoid than their male counterparts but makes them back by only doing perfunctory fan-service and nothing that makes me want to cry... except the butt sumo episode but in fairness it was all a terrible dream. Literally, the MC refuses to dream anymore after that. solid animation, decent voice acting, decent story, made me realize how HUGE this is in the Light Novel community???? There's like 18 fucking novels and that's WILD. 8.5/10.

MANGA:

Spirit Photographer Saburo Kono: a one shot special by the mangaka of The Promised Neverland! Honestly a really delicate touch of both super creepy and really touching, and I'm not gonna lie I'm bummed that this isn't a bigger project but the single chapter makes it a good taste for their style. I've been wondering if I wanna read/watch The Promised Neverland and now I think I will. 10/10

Deranged Detective Ron Kamonohashi: from the mangaka of Hitman Reborn comes this Sherlock and Watson derivative! Not even 20 chapters out yet with a sort of spotty schedule, I honestly love it even thought it's exactly as you expect. HOWEVER. Kamonohashi the "Sherlock" character uses mental pressure to kill all confirmed murderers and it's up to Toto the "Watson" character to save all those people before Kamonohashi kills them! It's just recently introduced a "Moriarty" family of crime lords (not a big spoiler don't worry it was obvious) so the tension surrounding Ron's past is amping up rn. Personally, I think the art is GORGEOUS, the characters engaging, and the story quick enough to keep my interest. Most mysteries are solved within a chapter or two so you're not stuck 20 chapters into one locked room mystery which is just peachy tbh. RN, 10/10. If this gets an anime, I anticipate a legion of fangirls who ship the two main characters along with their many friends. I've been alive too long to believe otherwise.

Don't Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro: Yeah I read the manga after I watched the show. A slower build than the anime, but it works for the format, if theyd done the same with the show then I don't think it wouldve done as well. Honestly? Cuter tbh but just as horny. You dont start really LEARNING about your character until like, chap 65 tho and no real "drama" happens until like 75. A good chunk of the chapters are like 8pgs so its a breeze to get through. I love these slow burn idiots of the century. 9.5/10 because you can DEFINITELY tell the mangaka does hentai too.

Yugen's All-Ghouls Homeroom: one-shot by the mangaka for Food Wars, it's no wonder there's this constant perviness from the MC, a guy who can see and exorcise spirits. Takes place at an all girl's finishing school with KICK ASS monsters tbh, kinda bummed its not longer. The MC? Blatant monsterfucker who is also a CONFRIMED monsterfucker???? Idk i vibe with that single emotion. Everything else is hit or miss. 7/10 for monsters and cool concept, lost points for the MC very pointedly being okay with admitting he'd wait for the teenagers to be adults tho. Creepy af. Could live without that.

Hell's Paradise: I finished the entire 127chps in 3 days and I was really enthusiastic about it 90% of the time thinking about how deep it was and then I actually thought about it and I ended up being very neutral about the whole thing tbh. The art is fantastic tho, but DEFINITELY deserving of the M rating. Tits. Tits everywhere. But not tits to be ecchi over, no, monster hermit tits on beautiful women-ish figures. Now generally I give that a pass but a huge theme in the story is that men and women are "no better than one or the other" but like, lady tits are what you see 99% of the time. Men tits are few and far between. I call bullshit on most of the "deep" themes is what I'm saying, so it's like the mangaka was trying for those deep thoughts but missed the margin a little too far for my preference. That being said, the MC is a married man who loves his wife which automatically makes him my favorite character so like... idk so many good things, so many misses, but overall really spectacular themes and imagery. Unique but classic all at once. It's getting an anime and I have NO IDEA how much censorship they're gonna be doing but they're going to be doing SO MUCH. Oh yeah, and one guy is a plant/human hybrid who fucks a 1000 year old plant-hermit which makes him a canon monster fucker. And one canon non-binary character who I, a nonbinary, actually like. So like... gosh I've got mixed feelings. 8.5/10.

Choujin X: From Sui Ishida, mangaka to the mega hit Tokyo Ghoul comes this brand new manga!... Of one chapter, lol. Not really binge-y because it's just the one chapter out right now but I'm already keeping my eye on it. The grasp on anatomy in the art is PHENOMENAL and you can see Ishida flexing his art skill which is great. Can't give a true rating but I'm giving it a tentative 9/10 because I'm excited to see more.

Shag&Scoob: technically not a manga, its an ongoing webcomic I binged an subscribed to in one day and I just think it deserves more attention. Starts off funny with "what if Scooby Doo had a gun" and has been led to "what if all cartoons are aliens that survive and receive their powers by the humans that love them in an epic war with Martians." On god, its good. I finished the current series in a couple hours so it's a breezy read, highly recommend it. 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Yeah I watched the anime and then finished all current 143 chapters in like 3 days. GOD IM WEAK. I don't buy physical manga unless I know I want to remember the story forever and I'm already budgeting for the current books out. Yeah, this is a good series. That being said, definitely not for the faint of heart or those who suffer under common triggers like suicide, molestation, death, etc. It's all framed as bad and necessary to the story don't get me wrong, but it's there and has lasting affects on the characters. Incredible story telling by the creator of A Silent Voice. Keep tissues nearby at all times. 12/10.

[yandere-flower]

Okay so that last ask got me thinking about what the ocs would be in an old timey victorian-esc drama and I got IDEAS

Desmond: Still a detective, kinda gives off Sherlock Holmes vibes but more dark and brooding (and still a dick) maybe darling hires him to find a missing person or darling is said missing person (cuz ya know drama) either way he becomes obsessed with their case just to get closer to darling. Deals with a lot of dirty cops in the force andis more of a stand alone guy then an actually police officer.

Margo: An underground coroner/medical examiner. Sort of like the Watson to Desmonds Sherlock. Works alongside Desmond sorta like a partner but he only calls her when theres a body that needs to be investigated. Since shes a woman in a older time period she wasnt able to get all of the degrees she wanted to get and she cant even join the police force but Des saw her potential while investigating a couple of underground hospitals one time and from then on kept her under his wing. No romance plot here but they have a mutual respect for eachother. She by far has the coolest office with insect specimens, medical diagrams, tons of books, the works.

Mizu: A young scholar, mostly interested in chemistry and mechanics. Makes all sort of neat inventions but never seems to leave his work space. Looks like a total Tim Burton character, pale skin, daek undereyes, and all. Whenever he needs to go to a university event he tends to stick to the sidelines or closer to his professors. Has somewhat of a special bond with professor Cliff but nothing that he thinks is too serious.

Cliff: Still a professor BUT I can see him having a secret hold in power somewhere. He goes to so many events hes totally rubbing elbows with some powerful figures. Total behind the scenes guy. Sometimes Cliff is able to get Antonios work in public art gallas and events with or without his sons knowledge. He also sees potential in Mizu and has tabs on the young mans accomplishments for future endeavors.

Antonio: Still a starving artist but somehow even more poetic? The guys aesthetic screams Shakespeare and renaissance and you already know this bitch dabbles in poetry. (Kind of gives off Thomas Thorn vibes from the show Ghosts). WILL throw pebbles at your window and seranade you into running away with him.

Ezra: A sweet baker as usual, super polite and cheery BUT to give it a tad bit of a dark twist lets say theres a Sweeney Todd situation going on here. Lets just say this guy is the total embodiment of Ms Lovette. "Oh that man who said those vulgar words to you earlier? Oh you dont worry about him, and dont get the meat pies darling, I dont think itll suit your taste."

Zara: I cant decide if I want her to be from Spain, India or France, BUT main thing is she moved to London and is gonna run this town. She runs an old fashion boutique for men and women and has some of the best quality goods in town. She fought and clawed her way up to the top and is one of the biggest enterpanurs in London. Maybe she has a secret deal with Ezra to help deal with those who stand in her way somewhere where they'll be put to good use.

Sawyer: Oh total old fashion crime rapscallion. For reference watch the show Peaky Blinders cuz I can see him being apart of a gang like that but if know one knows what im talking about, always bruised and beat up but he still has to make sure he looks presentable. Him and Des go head to head a lot, but Des hasnt been able to nail Sawyer for any crimes yet so he has to frustratingly let the punk go with a warning and you know Sawyer always makes cheeky comments before leaving.

Olive: Shes super rich but her family does have money, perhaps a merchant family with some royal ties? Either way shes the prized daughter and is constantly swatting away suitors, waiting for her one and only. Goes to every ball and regal event looking for someone to sweep her off her feet and once she does find her one and only, they arent going anywhere. Total Elizabeth from BLack Butler vibes, bows, frills and all.

(Am I forgetting anybody? I think I got everyone! Sooo what are your thoughts? Id love to hear ideas if you have any!)

This is amazing, thank you for this detailed prompt I absolutely love the descriptions. I also know every single reference that you put in here, amazing.

I can't decide who I like more, Zara whose a total bitch and probably works with Sawyers mob on the side because being a woman in power takes coin and ruthlessness. Or Mizu, who is a slightly unhinged young man always clutching his paperwork and running away from lectures to avoid gross people. And of course, big daddy Cliff whose heavy voice just drips class and power, ugh swoon.

[thegoodomensdumpster]

I WATCHED GOOD OMENS IN FRENCH SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO

and it wasn’t that bad. Here are my thoughts, barely edited as I wrote most of them while watching the show.

EP 1

OK i like god’s voice so far

possibilité d’embarras gastrique is a good formulation, I wonder if it’s the same in the book ( I think I kinda need to read it in french now...)

aghghdhgs « primo-délinquants »

of course subtitles don’t match the audio for a variety of technical reasons but when you get things that have very different underlying meanings i find it… not good This one about Crowley being evil / a demon : subtitles : « c’est ton travail » - « it’s your job » audio : « c’est dans ta nature » - « it’s in your nature » i mean dang

crowley sounds like a little shit asking az about his sword

« T’AS FAIT QUOUA » - he just loses his shit (kinda giving me some le coeur a ses raisons vibe)

ok crowley sounds very nerdy when he tries to explain that he took down the phone network, i think i actually like this voice acting

ligur sounds… very suave (im a little ill at ease)

crowley getting called mon chou by satan freddie mercury is a thumb up from me

i see the part where aziraphale speaks japanese wasn’t dubbed over and we can still hear michael sheen. it’s a bit disturbing considering french aziraphale has a higher pitched voice (and he sounds soooo much more anxious than sheen, give this angel a xanax )

“sandwich bœuf cresson” ( beef and cress sandwich ) deirdre really who makes this kind of sandwiches

im being reminded that the chattering nuns prepared little cut outs for their explanation about the antichrist switch… such dedication to useless crafts (it made me laugh on my first viewing and it’s still funny to imagine that some of them either ordered or built these things themselves just so they could make this two minutes long presentation for the most important act of their satanic nun careers)

retire-toi vil démon infernal, créature des abysses XD i swear az doesn’t sound even remotely convinced when he is saying the « get thee behind me foul fiend » line in french, it’s just too over the top for credibility, it sounds like it’s straight out of some super intense dnd session

they still can’t say bouillabaisse (which, like, weird because french, but still valid). nice touch is crowley couldn’t say soupe de poisson (fish stew) either and said poupe de soisson (sish ftew)

warlock mah boy how can you be a teenager and not like dinosaurs

c’est un dinosaure un nullosaure plutôt - apply burn heal

La façon dont warlock s’est exclamé « C’EST NUL » m’a fait penser au nain de naheulbeuk

the english version has nothing on french speaking aziraphale for the second hand embarrassement during the magic tour. it’s over 9000 i literally hid my head in my jumper when he was presenting harry the bunny. Horrible experience, 0/20, would not recommend

EP 2

oooh agnes has a lovely voice !

why is young newton having such a quality dub for the three sentences he has to say

dick turpin’s name is jesse james (tbf dick turpin is not known AT ALL in france, i discovered him reading good omens)

shadwell is pure chaos (as expected). No particular accent for him though, the chaotic energy was probably enough. Would have made me laugh if he had like, a chti or a marseilles accent.

aziraphale is so fucking stressed out by crowley’s driving i thought he was gonna explode

« tu es un gentil garçon » => « you’re a nice boy » said az to crowley DANG THAT’S SO INFANTILIZING AZIRAPHALE YOU’RE TALKING TO A DEMON FROM HELL NOT TO PINOCCHIO

ARGH FIRST MON ANGE OF THE SERIES i’m hit straight in the heart

anathema’s mom doesn’t have a spanish / latino accent at all when talking in spanish…. why...

dog being called toutou is definitely adorable (it’s basically « doggy » but way cuter imo)

tickety-boo has become ça gaze. that’s valid. it’s corny but i still use it unironically from time to time so ... i stan

EP 3

« je répands la fomentation » « i’m here spreading foment » « quoi tu fais des crêpes au froment ?????? »  « what you’re making crêpes with wheat ??? » love the fact that we shoehorned in one more ref to crêpes

az called crowley mon cher camarade, unintentionnal communist propaganda ftw

« pas de repos pour les… bah, pour les bons » « no rest for the… good »  – az was so deflated about the ineptitude he realized he was saying, he felt zero percent commited to his sentence

i was wondering how they would play aziraphale not being able to speak french in the bastille and they opted to have him stutter a bit and say to his executionner « excuse me i’m anxious » XD

« vous êtes le 999e aristo à mourir par mes soins. Mais vous êtes le premier en costume beige » « you’re the 999th aristocrat I’m going to kill, but the first one in beige attire » yeah i guess now that az isn’t english anymore his most noticeable feature is his cream aesthetic

« c’est au cas où ça tournerait en eau de boudin » « j’ADORE le boudin » => « in case it all goes pear shape » - the literal translation featuring food in french is « turning into black sausage water ». I don’t know what pear shaped inspires to english native speakers but the mere mention of boudin always make me giggle, it’s such a funny word and such a funny food

OH !!! no terrence rampa for the tv series, we’ve got anthony J. rampa. Rip terrence petit démon parti trop tôt :’(

« tu roules trop vite pour moi rampa » SERIOUSLY i know we can still infer « rouler » (here as in driving, but literally rolling) as a metaphor for their relationship but you could have said TU VAS TROP VITE that would have been so much better argh

has anathema got an emergency stock of potteries to break in case of emotionnal crisis ?

« Rampa, un démon très futé, il m’oblige à redoubler d’effort » « crowley, a very clever demon, he forces me to make double the amount of effort » oh so admitting you’re making an effort there aziraphale ? :))))))

dang i really want to know how shadwell said that major milk bottle died because not only did he die in combat but aziraphale’s reaction is a bit intense, it must have been quite a tale (this could be a crack fic prompt : «The Epic Tale of the Death Of Major Witchfinder Milk Bottle, by Sargent Witchfinder Shadwell» )

des sorcières et des phénomènes sorciéreux x)

CROWLEY CALLED AZIRAPHALE DUCON ?????? EXCUSE ME ????? #NotMyCrowley #CrowleyWouldNeverDoThat  #CancelAnthonyJRampa2K20  => ducon would be an insult, the gathering of du and con, con being a very nasty but common swear word, and associating it with du- makes it extremely patronizing. it’s like « absolute pathetic digraceful moron +++ ». thanks i hate it *frowny face *

EP 4

l’apocalypse c’est pour aujourd’hui juste après le goûter : it could be translated as « apocalypse is scheduled for today right after tea time » except that « goûter » is not quite tea time but rather the little sugary snack kids take when they come back from school and that most adults drop out of (i haven’t and i’m sure az hasn’t either). thanks aziraphale for having exclusively food related notion of the time because tbh same

ligur has no right to be this sexy between ariyon bakare and his french voice actor that’s just not allowed

radio crowley’s voice vs french ligur’s voice, who has the sexiest voice : FIGHT

(jk french agnes nutter’s voice is by far the sexiest)

gender neutral doesn’t ‘quite’ exist in french but pollution has been assigned a female voice actress and masculine pronouns (i’m saying it doesn’t quite exist because officially we have no gender neutral, but it’s a serious wip among lgbt+ circles to the point where it’s started being used in a few medias)

hastur « en attendant qu’un plombier vienne » / « while waiting for a plumber to come » does hell have a special plumber unit or do demons have to call on human plumbers for their pipes damages ? Dang hastur having to call a human plumber for hell’s plumbery is another damn good writing prompt for a crack fic

Michael is called Michel in the subtitles but Michael in the audio *shrug emoji*

EP 5 

to get a wiggle on has become « il faut qu’on se remue les fesses », literally « we need to shake our butts » like, yes, se remuer les fesses is a common expression to say « we need to act in order to get things done » but it really casts the image of people shaking their booty to some music and obviously crowley thinks the same Weirdly enough I have almost nothing to say for that episode. Sorry. But we’ve discovered most voice actors and actresses so far and no bit of dialogue really struck me as worth discussing or pointing fingers to mock it.

EP 6 

« on va BROUTER quelques derrières » - « we’re gonna lick some butts » OK THIS IS UNQUESTIONNABLY FAR SUPERIOR IN FRENCH THAN IN ENGLISH you thought LICKING butts was good ??? you really thought that ???? AZIRAPHALE HERE SUGGESTS TO GRAZE BUTTS. TO NIBBLE THEM. TO EAT THEM. TO. MUNCH. ON. THOSE. BUTTS!!!! not just licking, guys. This is as serious step beyond licking. (oh yeah he should have said « botter » instead of brouter btw, which is really just kicking, fyi)

« moi je crois en la paix, pétasse ! » wow, language, pepper (fyi i think « pétasse » is far far worse than « bitch » even if it means roughly the same, pétasse is almost never used while bitch is rather common, so it’s a swear word +++)

Dagon sounds like she’s got a nasty cold. #GetDagonIbuprofen2K20

I can confirm that Crowley offers Aziraphale to not just stay at his place, but to move in with him. « tu peux t’installer chez moi si tu veux ». omg they were roommates.

Bad translation strikes again : i don’t know why, but the french dub doesn’t have the « tickety-boo » / « ça gaze » being referenced as Rampa / Aziraphale is being knocked down, which is… a real mistep. It was narratively significant and I’m quite mad the translators missed it.

The Jesse James explanation from Newt has become very nonsensical, instead of the neat and to the point pun « wherever I go I hold up trafic » we’re getting a circonvoluted « because it’s a crime to mechanic’s diligence ». I’m not judging that one too hard, I have no idea how to make it better, and that’s probably how it was translated in the book as well thirty years ago, but it definitely doesn’t have the same impact. On the other hand, it definitely IS a very bad joke that doesn’t even deserve a chuckle, so Anathema’s embarassement really matches the audience’s (aka mine).

OVERALL :

I wasn’t convinced by Crowley… I mean, Rampa’s voice at first, but as the nerdiness showed up it really grew on me. I still think that french dubs have often problems with some voice inflexions every here and there, and for instance in Rampa’s case it was when he was annoyed or frustrated ( at the Globe when complaining about horses and Shakespeare’s plays that aren’t comedies, and also when discussing Azirphale’s magic tricks, it’s like… there is a step between having the right amount of grumpy complaining and overdoing it that is overlooked. It’s overacted, it should have been a bit quieter imo. I don’t mean to criticize voice actors too hard either but as an audience watching french dubs this is a very recurring problem and it always feels off to me. It’s actually one of the main reasons I avoid french dubs whenever possible.)

I have a hard time judging Aziraphale’s voice dub because it clashes so much with both the idea I had formed with it when I read the book and Sheen’s delivery that I just… kinda filtered it. It was too high pitched for me, and too anxious (though for this last point I must admit it could be funny at times, but I’m not fond of this character portrayal). The rest of the cast was rather good, nothing to complain about. There wasn’t anything stellar either, but everything that needed to be conveyed was and it was professionnal. It was also very homogeneous, no voice really struck me as being way too bad or way too good compared to the others, so it was really consistant.

So I don’t have much to complain about overall despite a few wonky translations here and there, BUT there is one thing I felt very robbed of : Crowley calling Aziraphale « mon ange » happens only once, when giving a lift to Anathema, and I’m almost certain they translated it that way because otherwise the joke about Anathama mistaking them for a couple wouldn’t work. So, they were forced to make it that way. The rest of the time Crowley calls Aziraphale « l’angelot », and despite being literally translated by « little angel », it feels sarcastic more than anything else ( the « L’ » in front of « angelot » is part of the reason why, it creates some distance, the other reason being that this word in itself has a very corny vibe and people being affectionnate to each other wouldn’t use it as a term of endearment). So, that’s a shame.

I like the English dub much much MUCH better than the French, but the french wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting it to be. The voice actors and actresses were quite good, the dialogues mostly faithful and endearing despite a few really missed steps. It really had its moments. Props to brouter des derrières, that one was fantastic.

[saltedsour]

tutorial level lore (for real)

i didnt proofread this after 1.75 hours of typing and that's your fault because i said so

expect typos and nonsense

CORRUPTED:

everybody forgets about him like wtf,,,.???? i swear everybody just goes "HIIIII IM SO HAPPY ALL FOUR OF US ARE HERE" "please i'm right here"

playlist mode also forgot about him 😢

to be fair i forgot about them until right as i started typing

also needs a hug. actually fuck that they all need a hug

the,,, the shortest,,... i i cannot..... they're short oh my gosh

probably one of those wiggly cactus fucks but like angry at everything

also the youngest out of all of em.... babeyyyyyyyy...

110% has a cool scarf i mean come on guys

ok to differentiate between corruption and this fucker's name i'm gonna give him a capital C at the start

tbh they all have that certain vibe that i can't explain rn rn but corrupted and blixer the most so uhhhhhh they vibe together share a vibe yeah

unironically dabs

probably the less focused on MURDERING spicy player shapes

"Okay look ASSHOLES I was the first out all of us to be pink so y'all should really treat me with more respect" they don't

has the best song and ill fight you over that

would look rlly cool if they were like....... not Corrupted just not them

glares at chronos every time he says wink out loud.

his last name's probably kyle

CHRONOS:

doesnt have a face anymore. it's a clock now.

NO his face doesn't mostly tell the time accurately and that pisses logic off the most.

ironically dabs

maybe the tallest but maybe logic's taller i haven't rlly decided yet ok ok

he cant right now he's dunking his bible in milk

rlly wants to eat food sometimes so he just yeets like fucking corn flakes at his face. milky ways also sometimes yeets corn flakes at his face.

"Wowwwww you guys have FACES??? smh."

maybe believes the world is flat

types for 20 minutes after you insult him online

would set fire to the tree of life and watch every second of them burning

the tree's probably fireproof tho and like i don't think fighting the fucking shape goddess went well last time??? didn't it??? now u dont have to worry abt getting ur face hurt that's for sure

Probably part enderman at this point like what the fuck how did you get out of that locked room???? You just see him fucking leave out of another room like OK CHRONOS

says wink out loud

does the most jobs for the tree (outside of what they all usually do)

what they're supposed to do (teach those spicy player shapes to not die) isn't what they actually do now (try to kill spicy player shapes unless they're good enough to not die and get the fuck out of there!!!)

Genuinely misses having a face.

MILKY WAYS:

she has the most braincells. and eyes. three eyes. (and three braincells)

second shortest,!!! will fight you

probably the most reliable at reading anything

"okay guys it's been fun but i'm going to space now" *walks out of the room*

probably would be like rlly competitive in video games and like whenever they suddenly win when you were about to win you hear them gleefully cackling thats actually rlly wholesome wtf me

"guys is the world flat yes or no" "does my life depend on the answer???" "YES. YES IT DOES, CHRONOS." "uuuuuuuHHhhHHhhHh"

probably added megalovania to the group's playlist (if they had one.................)

the tree of life definitely once yeeted the fucker she just grabbed her fucking face and went YEET!!!!! no idea why but that 100% happened

played minecraft and left a review saying there wasn't enough squares

fought Corrupted and won

"i'm gonna munch. i'm gonna crunch" just steals somebody's fucking c h i p s and SPRINTS away

strong shitpost energy tbh??

doesn't know the difference between astronomy or astrology

nobody can see any stars™️ where they live and she rlly wants to see stars™️ (it's her aesthetic ok) (smh) (you wouldn't get it)

they might just be in the fuckign void thats not rlly an aesthetic

LOGIC GATEKEEPER:

doesn't understand most memes tbh

YAAYYYYYY SECOND TALLEST.... or NOT!!!!!!!!!!

"guys ur not being logical....... 💔"

would whisper wikipedia articles to you <3

i'd say they could do the best maths out of everybody but rlly i dont trust them with 1 + 1

unironically would type like... this... sometimes...

"guys why are you awake it's like 3 am" "shut the fuck up logic we're eating stolen c h i p s"

probably has rlly cool legs (i forgot to delete this but now i'm kinda liking what me 10 minutes ago said)

they maybe broke 1 law but it was just one of the laws of reality (like a fucking nerd smh)

T-poses regularly to assert dominance over the three shorter peasants.

actually the only one that still likes the tree of life. "GUYS GUYS SHE'S COOL WTF???" "logic please she fucking deleted my face"

fought Corrupted once and lost

favourite flavour drink is water

everybody probably calls them logic because saying three more syllables is just too hard

BLIXER. THAT FUCK:

angry!!

also dabs but maybe???? ironically (he doesn't know either anymore)

wtf he's directly middle height to everybody (bht he's taller than everybody in that stinky new game form though so good for him)

punches stuff!!!!!

"guys where are my c h i p s"

he has a pupil but only sometimes for no reason

probably went into the tutorial gang like wayyyy after everybody else so he's the new shape™️

"hey guys check out this neat selfie" he just shows them an image of sans

kinda "died" but he actually just took over the world

the tree of life also tells everybody what they need to know rn rn so like she just went "heyyy yeah he died 😭 have fun guys" and went off to go be mean to him for like. ever.

he is a cat. he will never forget that. everybody keeps reminding him plEASE GUYS

ahhhhhhhhhh!! water scary

types for a fucking hour if you insult him online

rlly needs a hug

tired 24/7

probably wears a hoodie. all the time. even in the summer.

most focused on spicy player shape murder.

[prose-for-hire]

Friends don’t let friends kill their hair

Pairing: Cordelia Chase x Spike (platonic)

Request: Hello lovely! I have a not reader related request, but if you dont want to write it, its fine! I thought that maybe one day spike screws up bleaching his hair and he goes to Cordy for help? And they bond and become reaaally good friends. I think they could gave a pretty neat friendship, if the writers would have let them,and they are my favourites and you write them so amazingly 🌈

Requested by: @therapieliteratur​ - hope this is okay babe !!

A/N: This is my first request with no reader! It was fun, I love both of the characters so I couldn’t say no to making them friends !!

When I was younger I had a bleaching disaster - I actually had a nightmare one night after writing this fic about bleaching my hair again and it all falling out lol

Spike had been bleaching his hair for a long time now. He could pretty much do it with his eyes closed at this point, and in some sense he did as he didn’t have a mirror to check if he had covered everything.

Now, Spike had let his roots grow out a little longer than he usually would, as he had a slight income problem. The problem being he couldn’t find enough people to intimidate into giving him the cash he needed for the essentials: Blood, smokes and most importantly, bleach. This wouldn’t usually stop him, he would use his five-finger discount but he had now got himself a reputation after being caught shoplifting too many times. So, when he did eventually drum up enough money for his box-bleach, his roots were ridiculously overgrown.

He wasn’t able to see himself in the mirror, so didn’t think anything of it until he came across a demon who was definitely not a fan of Spike’s.

“What, it’s not bad enough you’re helping the slayer, you went and gave yourself a golden halo too?” One had taunted, punching him in the face before walking of. Apparently, spike wasn’t even worth dusting. Spike was confused, but not for long. A kinder woman behind the bar who served him his shot of blood told him his bleaching hadn’t gone as well as he had expected.

That’s when Cordelia found him late at night, staring at the rows of bleach in the store. Cordelia had been in to buy tampons and had audibly gasped at the state of his hair. Almost having to shield her eyes from the horror of it.

“Yeah that’s right laugh it up, why don’t you take a bloody picture it’ll last longer” He muttered, instantly on the offensive. He recognised the girl, she knew the Slayer and Angel.

“Ugh, really? Draw more attention to it why don’t you” she rolled her eyes walking away to pay for her items. She didn’t need to be stuck in a conversation, she had things to do.

“Look, pet, just- which one would patch it?” Spike asked, eyes to the floor as he asked for help. Cordelia sighed over-exaggeratedly before stalking back over to the shelves, checking his hair again with a little squint before taking a few bottles and boxes and handing them to him. Spike nodded, a silent thanks and Cordelia went and paid, leaving Spike alone in the drug store.

Cordelia was walking to her car, it was dark and she had to park a few blocks away. She hurried through the streets, not knowing if the feeling of being followed was real or just because she knew what could be lurking there. She finally turned around, finding herself face-to-face with Spike who was holding a brown bag of shopping.

“What is wrong with you, anyone tell you that the annual stalk-a-thon is next week?”

“Really? I better make my way over for that one, any idea what time?” Spike continued, rolling his eyes as if he was already over the conversation, “Listen, love, I was thinkin’ you clearly have a free evening and-”

“I’m busy, actually”

“Yeah? Doin’ what exactly?” he asked, making Cordelia sigh and scowl a little. He was right, she hadn’t had any plans since high school. Half of her friends had died during graduation and her move to LA had to be put on hold as there was a slight cash-flow problem that even her father couldn’t help with. Cordelia huffed, but nodded after Spike gestured to his bag and asked her to tell him what to do to salvage his hair, “Oh come on, I’ll do it”

Back at the crypt, Spike was sat in front of the tv with a towel around his shoulders.

“Not that I don’t respect a man that maintains his own sense of style, but your hair is seriously dead. Like way dead”

“Like the rest of me then” He shrugged.

“No, like, dead dead. It’s like straw! And believe me, I know, I was the straw-princess for three years running”

Spike opened his mouth to ask what the hell a straw-princess was but decided against it. He was strangely enjoying the girl’s company and he didn’t want to insult her and have her leave him with only half of the hair righted.

“The bleach you buy is harsh and you bleach it what every few weeks? You should try a different brand, I know a few” She offered, continuing to correct his mistake.

She continues chattering away, over his tv programme. He starts to tell her to be quiet but she gets snippy, threatening to leave him with half a crown. He sighed, flipping the tv off. He sat there, trying not to itch his head as the bleach took effect. 

He found himself enjoying Cordelia’s company. She was talking, non-stop about the recent goings-on. The demons, how everyone else had started college and she was still just living at home. How she planned to leave to LA. Spike chipped in sometimes, and he was surprisingly supportive about her aspiration to become an actress.

When she was finally done, she announced it in characteristic fashion, “There! Don’t tell me that doesn’t look better?! She smiled brightly, checking out her work and nodding at herself in appreciation.

“I can’t see it, pet, but I believe you. Couldn’t bloody disagree or my head would be spinning with your shrill insistence” he muttered, getting up to stretch after being sat for a while. He slicked his hair back and shrugged choosing to trust the girl. He looked back at Cordelia, the look asking her what she was still doing here. Cordelia rolled her eyes, but smiled before she left.

It was next month so Spike had a good month and had the cash to buy bleach on time. But, this wasn’t needed as when he returned to his crypt in the early morning, just before the sun rose.

There was a little basket, filled with haircare products. Spike frowned, looking around as if it was a trap. As if the slayer was now targeting him where it would really hurt. Taking the last thing he had managed to maintain despite everything. His aesthetic.

He was suspicious, but he hauled the basket into the crypt. He double checked behind him at the entrance to make sure nobody was going to run in and make fun of him or stake him for taking the products inside.

There was better quality bleach, conditioners that might make the quality of his hair better and an old polaroid camera for him to check his hair through taking pictures.

There was a card that read, “Death isn’t an excuse for a bad dye job – C”

Spike smiled, valuing the thought the girl had for her before shaking himself out of it. He was lonely, so any hint of friendship he appeared to cling to at the moment. He had even considered asking if Giles would let him in to watch Passions again, just for company the other week.

“Hey, what’s new in the land of damp and spooky?” Cordelia asked she had decided to drop in finding herself enjoying talking to the vampire. She had been dropping by every so often since she had helped him. She was looking around his home with a disdain she couldn’t quite hide well enough. Her next idea was to convince Spike to let her at least make it a little more homely. Spike didn’t reply, only rolled his eyes almost fondly at the girl who had started to drop in and bring light coloured throws for his sofa and thinking he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re using the products!” Cordelia stated, smiling slightly with satisfaction as she saw some half-used bottles. She had hoped he would.

“To coin a popular Sunnydale phrase, duh” He swatted her away as if she was being moronic for thinking he wouldn’t. He had hoped his gesture had confirmed it to her but she hadn’t understood that this was Spike’s way of saying thank you.

“Well, you don’t have to be rude – you just have to say thank you” Cordelia offered, a small smile on her lips at hearing the vampire say ‘duh’. It felt alien coming from his mouth. Maybe there was hope for him to adapt – finding him some lighter colours and perhaps an aesthetic that wasn’t so black and scary. She had detailed fantasies of convincing him to let her style him a few outfits. Spike just stared at her demand, figuring he must like the brashness of this girl. She was blunt and bossy, and a bit shallow by all accounts. But he couldn’t help become fond of her, especially when she continued when she didn’t say anything, “Fine, if you want say it, you can show it” Cordelia brandished a makeup bag filled with little bottles of nail varnish.

“What the bloody hell-”

“Nails!” She rolled her eyes and grinned as if it was obvious, sitting down and waiting for him to start painting them.

The pair had a good friendship-of-sorts after this, meeting up every so often to gossip about recent goings on. Spike found himself missing her friendship after she was finally able to move to LA, but he kept in contact with her, making trips to see her (and avoiding Angel) to catch up with each other.

[soulssung]

Imagine being an interior designer and your task is to design a room for each Skz member. What would be the theme/colour/things to include for each member's room?

ok but first i LOVED LOVED LOVED this question!! i'm a sucker for decoration/interior design so this made like genuinely happy :) now, to the ask. under the cut bc it got big oops

bangchan

i never really watched a kdrama but yk those penthouses people always say it looks like the house of a ceo? that's it, that's bangchan. overall just a nice guy with whole lots of money™ vibes if you know what i mean. i think his whole concept is modern, clean and minimalist and his main colors are black (who could imagine?), grays and white. as chan is the ultimate workaholic™ he would definitely have a whole set prepared somewhere so he could work in a somewhat comfortable way.

lee know

hear me out. lee know is a thrifter (? is this a word?? anyway) idk why but i get this vibes from him and i feel like his house would have lots lots lots of unique/colorful pieces he probably found at a second hand market or smth. yk those embroidery rugs that were quiet popular on tiktok? those with 60s and 70s inspired patterns like this and this, and also those asymmetric mirrors!! he definitely having one of those. i think lee know's place would be a good mix between fun and a more 'mature' style. ofc, he would have lots of things for cats (and probably a somewhat big kitchen, since he apparently into cooking these days)

changbin

i personally think changbin's place would be really similar to chan's, in the sense of color scheme and overall vibe. maybe something more industrial tho? like more metallic details more '''''rustic''''''' in a way, and not so clean and 'perfect' looking like chan's. he's definitely having a studio tho.

hyunjin

jinnie SCREAMS aesthetic so i can totally picture him on one of those 'paris' inspired apartments, with lots of white, big golden mirrors, black (and maybe some colorful) details here and there and also plants!! something you could see at a editorial but keeping a certain cozyness to it. for some reason i think hyunjin would have lots of little decorations like this, really trendy-like and maybe even hand made!!

han

for han, the best i can say it's that it have the aesthetic of this photo right here. something that resembles this vibe of a big and busy city and it's high buildings and neon lights. i think it would probably have a lot of black on it but with some fun to it, yk? i can see he having colorful decorations (and probably some useless stuff he found online lol) other one that definitely have a studio setup in some place.

felix

felix styles is a mix between lee know and han i think (but instead of black a more white with black details vibe). probably a lot of game related stuff and somewhat a kinda of tokyo aesthetic to it, smth like this. other one to have a somewhat big kitchen and lots of stuffed animals!!

seungmin

the ultimate light academia buddy. his place is bright and with lots of white/browns/earth tones to it. probably have a library or at least a really big bookshelf. really neat and clean, i can imagine him having plants and lots of wood around too!! his place probably smells really nice lol.

in

last but mot least, innie!! i think jeongin's place would have a lot of similarities with felix's but a lot less of the anime/game stuff going on. not bc he doesn't like it, he just doesn't show it that much. i dont think is one of those super organized guys so he would probably keep it kinda minimalist for his own good lol. i can see he having some colorful stuff here and there too, specially in like primary colours (?), not much, just some little decorations.

[gotatext]

                   hllo ! i’m nora ( she / her, 24, gmt ) crawling back to this rp once more like the dirty sewer slug i am !! i just can’t get enough, baybeyyy ! u may remember me frm such roles as alma putnam, rory bergstrom, bridget matusiak or greta o’driscoll 2 name jst a few.... sure there were more over these long years, bt the show must go on.... this is mimi, she’s dogmatic, tenacious n single-minded 2 the point of recklessness, she doesn’t like handouts n she’s funding her degree through her onlyfans account n moaning abt shit on tiktok. we love 2 see it !!  slam that like button n i’ll creep into ur DMs like the slippery worm i am   OR u can discord me at that bitch carole baskin#8664.   a humble pinterest.

『ALEXA DEMIE ❙ CIS-FEMALE 』 ⟿ looks like MIMI MARTÍNEZ is here for HER SOPHOMORE year as an ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY student. SHE is 22 years old & known to be STRONG-WILLED, GOAL-ORIENTED, ARROGANT & EASILY BORED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ nora. 24. gmt. she/her.

this is p embarassing but i actually originally wrote mimi for a discord rp based around love island asgjag dont laugh at me but it was so chaotic n someone deleted it w-out telling any of us so i lost her bio.... all her threads....e verythin.... it was mad. but anyway we startin from scratch w this intro so bare with

mimi is a really extra character so when trying to flesh her out i thot of the most extra thing i could do n made a colour coded mindmap with watercolour paints detailing her values, aesthetics and early life. shoot me

background: she grew up in a trailer home in boulder city, abt half an hour from vegas. her mom had worked in a vegas casino for most of her 20s but relocated to boulder city for a slower pace of life / lower crime rate when she started having kids. mimi has 2 older brothers n she’s the youngest. has that invulnerable younger sibling complex n basically thinks nothing can touch her. very confident in her own intelligence and her ability to get shit done 

has mexican ancestry on her mom’s side. doesn’t know her dad. was raised with spanish catholic principals n found it all very stained glass windows and extra n that’s why she was kinda drawn to the decadence of vegas and all these massively high key aesthetics, like dia de les muertos was her fave thing growin up just bcos the pure feel of the festival and painting a sugar skull on her face n being able to party on the streets in a flower crown where everyone was kinda anonymous but together in this celebration

in boulder city her mom worked as a carer as there’s a lot of retirees there. mimi really resented the slow pace of life, longed for some fucking energy n life. she was a cheerleader in school but outside of school there wsn’t much to do except practise stunts and go on bike rides.  occasionally they’d get dressed up and catch a bus to henderson, the next biggest city for them to get tht sweet night life

her teenage years consisted mostly of hanging around the renovated motel blocks used as housing projects n tanning by the pool. very florida project if you’ve seen that. she reminds me a lot of the mum in that. also she started working as an avon rep going door-to-door when she was 16 bcos she wanted to have her own income. like as young as 14 she’d decided she was smart enough to go to college but she didn’t have the money n her family didn’t really see it as a worthwhile thing, her mom was very like the mom from matilda “you chose books.... i chose looks!” which i think is where a lot of mimi’s more shallow / appearance-driven traits come from

wasn’t really ‘cool’ until high school. before that she was a bit of a lisa simpson type. won a spelling bee when she was 9. was in the mathletes squad in middle school. when she went from middle school to high school she started cheer and tried to reinvent herself basically. always been very concerned with social mobility and keen to socially climb, like when she enters a new situation she’ll find out who the alphas are and quickly try n befriend them

when she turned 18 she moved out and went to vegas despite her mom hating the idea bcos it was everything she’d tried to get her kids away from. she worked in the clubs there for several years as a shot girl, a table dancer, n eventually she started workin behind the bar in a strip club. in the club it ws really hard to resist becoming a dancer bcos of the sheer amount they made in tips. no one really pressured her into it she just eventually decided tht it was way more logical to do it while she was young n fit and had the stamina and ppl were willing to pay to see her body so she started taking pole fitness lessons. she also started working as a cam girl around this time

working in vegas strip clubs is basically whats paid for uni. like she didn’t go at 18 like most of her friends did bcos she didn’t have the money and she didn’t want to feel indebted to a college like she had to compete for her place and not put a toe out of line bcos she was on a scholarship. she was determined to pay her own way and it took 4 years of working really hard and saving n even tho she was working in vegas she basically never went out bcos every penny she had needed to go on uni n thts how we get to radcliffe baybeeyy

part 2  - interior / values / personality

values: the aesthetic !! literally loves the aesthetic so much. everything she owns is super embellished, she’s a pop socket gal, her dell laptop is covered in glitzy stickers, she always has acrylics n probs makes nail art videos on tiktok. really tuned into tiny details like painting a little hello kitty above her eye which translates into her degree when she’s doing small-scale mockups of town plans n stuff... she jst puts so much detail into them. ppl often get surprised when she tells them she does architecture but it makes so much sense bcos she grew up in a trailer park n was always thinking about ways the space could be more efficiently used, like she loves re-conceptualising neighbourhoods, definitely spent hours on sims as a kid. she also grew up near hoover dam n so loads of school trips they just took them there n she was like.... this is tight but it could be cooler.... where’s the passion....

massively into photography, has such a neat instagram feed like everything just compliments the tones in the next post like mMMM. idk if any of u know any architecture students but this is literally the one constant i can find…. like they all have super good instagrams feeds. is that bitch that will take 40 fake candids of u in a row at different angles to get u the perfect profile picture cos she understands the importance of marketing urself and having an online #brand

has wire rimmed glasses that she doesn’t need to see BUT they r like a magnifying glass for when she’s working with really small materials to do a mock up of an urban plan, and also just sometimes wears them for the aesthetic bc she’s such a pinterest bitch

assassination nation is such a big mood. literally the aesthetics of that and lily colson’s whole brand of feminism and nudity not being inherently sexual but at the same time wanting to profit off that bcos why the fuck shouldnt she use a corrupt system to her advantage is incredibly mimi

literally a human personification of a bratz doll both in attitude and fashion sense

somehow simultaneously gansey in the raven cycle AND elle woods in legally blonde? the two genders 

values cont bc i started rambling: her independence and freedom. being the best at any given task she sets her mind to accomplish because she is unable to accept failure. social mobility. sexual liberation. interested in the psychology of sub-cultures and how ppl form groups and interact w each other and cult identities which is why she minors in anthropology. pro-choice. pro-weed legalisation. pro-sex worker rights. very activist.

aesthetics tht remind me of her: von dutch. a strappy cami top that says ‘please do not do coke in the bathroom’. low-waisted jeans that show off her belly button piercing. acrylic nails tapping against a heavily embellished second-hand dell laptop. heart shaped sunglasses in every colour. translucent stripper heels with barbie doll heads and plastic spiders in the heel. spraying champagne you cant afford all over the walls. narcotics in a heart shaped locket. an amazon wishlist full of lingerie linked on your tinder profile. sex tapes recorded on VCR. a religious devotion to waxing clinics. necking shots like you were born to do it.

she’s an enfj type which makes her pretty charismatic and confidence, like she has a fierce kind of energy to her, but she’s also super unwilling to accept criticism, dogmatic and can only really see her own way of thinking, quite ruthless when it comes 2 other ppls emotions despite having a poor control of her own and being prone to turbulence / throwin a bitch fit in the craft lab. easily bored. competitive. self-assured to the point of arrogance. forceful. adaptable. usually more rational than emotional but occasionally loses the ability to make rational decisions when blinded by a need for perfectionism.

very goal-oriented. money motivates her. money and clothes. she wants to look bomb while earning big bucks. when she gets her mind set on a project it literally consumes her she will forget to eat and sleep? i don’t know her.  like when a final design project is due for architecture she’ll be up all night doing adderall and speed to keep her awake working on the placement of a single tree for ages cos its gotta be perfect

loves chaos. will spill your secrets and pretend it was an accident. will always be that gif of kim kardashian sipping her tea while drama unfolds around her. lives for the drama like that gifset of bratz when she comes running and gets her phone out to record a fight.

im makin her sound like a really bad person but hopefully she’ll be somewhat likeable she can be very charismatic and endearing and she’s naturally quite funny. also now she’s finally in college and doesn’t have to worry so much about money she actually allows herself to party n bcos she denied herself of it for so long she kinda makes up for it by going p wild like will be the girl climbing on to stage to crowd surf at gigs or doing a summersault off the bar and being escorted out by bouncers, thats the energy were looking at, pure dionysian hedonistic impulse

really gd at talking her way out of shit like parking fines. so good at being an ‘im baby’ girl and often dumbs herself down to figures of authority to appear less like a threatening ball-breaker and more like a confused fiat 500 girl who didn’t know red meant stop she thought it meant slow down

listens almost exclusively to female artists. has fergalicious on repeat when she does squats infront of the mirror n just the biggest fergie stan. also lana del rey’s whole vibe is massive mimi energy

ok ya thats all i have for now..... hopefully this is somewhat coherent and not just garbage.

[solliium]

eight people i’d like to know better

one / ( alias / name ) : dismay or angie

two / ( birthday ) : august 2

three / ( zodiac sign ) : leo

four / ( height ) : 5′04 / 166cm

five / ( hobbies ) : drawing, sleeping, writing, cooking, baking, stressing over my cat, staring wistfully at things i cannot afford, watching let’s plays or dumb youtube people

six / ( favourite colour ) : pink

seven / ( favourite books ) :  the book thief will forever be #1 but im also big on the raven cycle and good omens

eight / ( last song listened to ) :  heavy shoulders by trace.

nine / ( last film or show watched ) : sweats profusely. i dont even know. i think maybe onward??

ten / ( inspiration for muse ) : im not sure whether this means like -- my character muse or inspiration for writing a character in general but. playing league for extended periods of time always gets me in the mood to write. as for inspiration for my characters, i usually start with “what’s a character i want to see in league” and “what’s something i haven’t seen in league or its lore”.

sarin is based off the spellblade class from final fantasy tactics, though.

eleven / ( story behind url ) : i find pretty words and smash together to make neat aesthetic url yes yes

tagged by: @choicelesshope ( thank u!!! )

tagging: @quartlet @foxcharmed @fraying @the-face-breaker @oceanbrings @4senna @rcvenkissed @boneshivered ( im just going off people i enjoy talking to or are currently on my dash )

[1-800-seo]

— 1-800-SEO'𝗌 𖧷 '𝖲𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾' — \ 1 | 2 | /

— 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

— 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿/𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍

— 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 2655

— 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋: 2

— 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 90'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐.

Your joints crack as you sit up in bed, you stare at the poster covered wall as your eyes adjust to the morning light. Taehyung shifts on his mattress on the floor a few metres away. The sun streams into the room through the slats of the blinds, honey glow lighting up the room. Your back aches as you stretch out your worn muscles. Last night’s activities tired out both your brain and your body.

You pad over to the chunky computer over by the window and switch it on before searching the room for your leather jacket. It’s on the floor underneath Tae’s feet, likely because it was discarded in a hurry to get some sleep. You rummage through the pockets until you find a small folded piece of paper, an old receipt, with a phone number and email address written in neat handwriting.

Once the slow computer has booted up, you load up the internet. The familiar ear piercing dial up tone You scramble to turn the volume down but it’s too late. Taehyung had already stirred and you’d jumped out of your skin. It scared you so much you have goose bumps and almost fall off your chair in the process of finding the volume button on the monitor.

Taehyung slowly sits up on the mattress, cradling his pillow like his life depends on it. His hair is ruffled and eyes heavy.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles out, voice croaky and low with sleep. “Sorry TaeTae, I was trying to ring up the internet but forgot that we played games on it on Wednesday night and didn’t turn down the sound.”

Apologetically you squeeze his knee, hoping he’ll be able to go back to sleep. You don’t like an overtired best friend, especially when yours gets extra cranky like a toddler. Luckily he lies back down and pulls his blanket over his head, most likely blocking out the light. You turn back to the computer and boot up the email program.

You input the email written on the paper, hands shaking as you type. You weren’t used to this, the email read ‘jjkook@yahoo.com’, it made you hyper aware that this doesn’t happen every day.

You begin writing your email to him, as you did so thoughts of gratitude and sentiment welled up inside. You u had to thank him for his kindness, after all, he spared you from a concussion.

The email read: Dear Jeon Jungkook/JJK,

Thanks for everything last night, it’s greatly appreciated. Your show was radical, and I’m sorry I bummed so much of your time. Hope we can meet again soon.

Sincerely, a loyal fan of yours, ~ ________~

You finished typing up your message and read it and re-read it for any mistakes. You wanted it to be chatty and casual but not overly casual so as to look like you don’t care. You left it at that and hit send. The paper airplane emoticon bounced in the digital wind as your email was sent though code to Jungkook himself. You got back in bed and hoped for your heart to stop fluttering.

By the time you received an email in your inbox that wasn’t from a school friend or an advertisement, it was the following Wednesday. You were having your usual hang out with Taehyung when the computer pinged in the background of your chatter. You just ignored it since a ping on your computer is usually just your school friends gossiping about how they want you to set them up with Tae, and went back to your sewing session.

By sewing, you and Tae weren’t exactly doing cross stitch, you were sewing on patches to his back pack and your denim jacket. After you had finished that, that was when you checked your ivory coloured, cube shaped computer monitor and spotted the sender’s name: Jeon Jungkook/JJK.

Tae almost had a heart attack when he saw it with his own eyes. To double check he brushed his fringe out of them. He grabbed you by the shoulder, and shook you back and forth. “Don’t tell me that’s the JJK! Are you serious?!” He exclaimed as he rocked your brain in your skull.

“I mean I think so, I emailed him on Saturday morning.” You scanned your brain for any reason why it wouldn’t be the real him, maybe a scam?

“Open it quick!” Taehyung jumped on the computer, spamming the enter button repeatedly. The email took its time opening, the loading bar going up bit by bit. Too slow for Taehyung’s liking. A few “come on, come on!”’s later and it popped on the screen in all its anticipated glory.

It read: dear ______, im glad to hear that youre ok. dont worry about ‘wasting my time’, you made a normal day exciting, and i cant thank you enough for that, doll. hopefully we can meet up some time? id like to invite you and your friend to my next scheduled show, don’t stress about travel, ill sort it, it’d just be nice to see you again and catch a bite to eat before the show. i want to see your pretty face again, angel. let me know asap.

yours truly - jjk.

As soon as you read the email, you shook with excitement and screamed. Taehyung had wide eyes and his mouth agape. “No. Freaking. Way.” He gasped, completely in shock.

“How did this happen to me? This is a dream, right?” You shake your head as to clear a non existent sleepy fog that could be making you hallucinate.

You look back at the monitor; the email is still there. “This can’t be real?!” You exclaim, turning to Taehyung on your swizzle chair, wide eyed.

“It has to be? This is a real email, it has his email address right there!” He pokes the screen at the point of mention. “It all seems legitimate?” You ponder, searching the screen any tell tale signs of a scam.

“I hope it’s not too good to be true... I want to be your future children’s godfather.” Taehyung said with a giggle, covering his bashful smile.

“You have to be kidding me, as much as I’d like to have his children, we’ve only met once!” You blush, cheeks going warm.

After all the fangirling, you decide to sort out the arrangements of your next meet-up, and exchange more heart fluttering emails as you smooth out the plans. A few emails later and the plans end up being that you’ll start the evening with catching something to eat on the boardwalk and then you’ll go to the venue for his next concert, meet Taehyung there, chill out in the green room, and then watch the show from front row seats.

The whole plan was unreal to you, unrealistic at its simplest, but you were excited nonetheless. The day came around sooner than expected and soon enough you were picking out the perfect date outfit with your best friend, as well as wondering whether to do pre-game shots to steady your nerves.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this plan, TaeTae?” You ask hesitantly, staring into the mirror and meeting eyes with him across the room.

“Of course I am, I’m just happy I get to see my favourite artist again in concert; never mind be wingman for my favourite girl. It’s extra special when those two events align though.”

Boxy grin on his face, he looks at the ground. “You’re the best, honey bear.” You say and pull him into a befitting bear hug.

“I’ve not heard that name in a while.” He chuckles under his breath and places a firm kiss on the top of your head.

“I know your mum used to call you that when we were little so I thought it fit you; my big honey bear, intimidating to others but so sweet to me.”

You release him from the hug and share a look that holds the bond of a years long friendship. “Right, what’re you going to wear then?” “Shall we coordinate outfits?” Tae asked picking out a camouflage bandana. “You could wear your camo print pants, and I’ll wear this?” He wraps the bandana round his head and fluffs his long dark wavy hair. His change of conversation kickstarts you back into the present reality. After that, you pick out a black sleeveless crop top to go with his advised pants, layered necklaces/chokers, and boots and put them on after you’ve adorned your pants with metallic dangling chains. Once you’re in your grunge get up, you shove your across the shoulder bum bag with any essential item you might need, such as lipstick, tampons, money, etc. and sling it over your back like a quiver. If you need it you’ll have to turn it round but it’s for the aesthetic so you ignore the inconvenience it creates.

A few hours later and you’re driving down the Cali roads in Taehyung’s 60’s Triumph TR6 with the wind in your hair and nirvana blasting on tape. Miles and miles of beach zoom by until you reach the board walk and you don’t stop until you reach the high end sea restaurants built to feed tourists.

Taehyung pulls up by the entrance and lets you out. He looks stunning in the golden sunlight, dark hair glowing amber in the rays. “Don’t have too much fun.” He lifts up his sun glasses before sending you a wink, saluting you goodbye, and driving away.

“See you at 8pm!” You shout over the roaring exhaust. He never turns around but raises a hand in a wave of acknowledgement as he drives away.

You step in to the restaurant to be met with the smell of sea salt and braised steaks. You scan the tables for a familiar face until you see a hand waving over the sides of a booth in the corner.

“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here.” You say coyly, sliding into the booth opposite him.

“Well, you know, I was just waiting for a beautiful girl, but I think I’ve found one who’s more to die for than the desserts here.” He pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes, it has a slight curl to it, even more prominent now that it isn’t as sweaty as when it’s most commonly seen.

“Oh, and who might that be?” You fold your legs and place your hands underneath your chin, looking into his eyes with a smile.

“I believe it’s you, babycakes.” A flush forms on your cheeks and he winks at you.

“So what do you fancy eating tonight? I think I have my eye on something...” He fully takes in your outfit, but you’re not sure his eyes are only on your outfit, maybe this croptop was a good idea after all.

“I don’t know, can you recommend anything? I like things that are creamy.” You reply, batting your eyelashes, feigning innocence.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to whip up something delicious for you, darling.” A waiter comes and starts their opening spiel, this sends fits of giggles through you both.

A date full of getting to know each other, flirty comments, and general adoration for each other later, your cheeks were hurting because of how much smiling you had been doing. JK was so charismatic it hurt.

Soon dinner was over and it was time to make your way over to the venue. Hand in hand you stroll across the board walk to get there. The way the sunlight hits the waves is enchanting and you find yourself stopping to gaze into the bay.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks whilst resting his hand on the boardwalk railings.

“Everything, nothing... I just keep thinking about how surreal this is, I feel like I’m in a dream. Partially because I’m in the presence of a super gorgeous singer and partially because said singer asked to spend time with me and now I’m on a date with them. If that doesn’t sound like a dream, I don’t know what does.”

You laugh and cover your face. Suddenly you feel two warm hands on yours, peeling them back from your face. When you open your eyes you are met with Jungkook’s emoting doe eyes looking back at you.

“I completely understand, I have felt the same before, like reality isn’t the same, or like I’m dreaming; but we’re here now, we’re present, you’re here with me and it’s real.”

He pulls you into a hug, his arms enveloping your body. Most people would feel uncomfortable, especially since you just met Jungkook, however here with him on the boardwalk, in the setting sun, you feel safe. You feel like you are where you’re supposed to be. You stand there hugging him on the boardwalk for what feels like a long time, and then you pull away and grab his hand, continuing the journey once more.

“Thank you Jungkook, that was so comforting, I can’t imagine you’ve been in a similar situation but I really am grateful for being here in your company. Can I ask, when have you felt like this?” You feel his thumb rub small circles into your skin, such a soothing notion.

“I don’t know, from time to time... I guess it’s just the perils of the job. Don’t get me wrong, I love this, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but their is just some days where I really do feel disconnected. Show after show, blurring face after face, I’m on a high when I’m on stage but when I come down, I come down, if you know what I mean?” You notice his gaze is on the cracked sun bleached wood of the boardwalk.

“I get that. It must be hard every night to go from having the time of your life, to go back to normalcy once your feet touch backstage. I get that you’re just a normal guy who feels like a normal guy, but when people treat you like a god, it can’t sit right, can it?”

“Yeah, it’s like when I’m up there I’m deified but when I’m at home I’m the farthest thing from likeable.” He’s looking up, eyes turned towards the sky now, you wonder whether he’s doing this to stave off the tears.

“Jungkook, I know I haven’t known you long, but I can guarantee that when the lights are off and you’re home in your pyjamas, you’re just as likeable as the guy with the heavenly voice on the stage. I’m not saying this as a fan, I’m saying this as someone who wants to get to know you better, to see you when you’re not on stage, when you think you’re unlikeable, and to be able to tell you all the reasons why you’re so so likeable and worth so much more than you realise. No one is worthy of being deified, but you are certainly worthy of feeling loved.” You squeeze his hand tight in your palm to reassure him.

“Would you be the one to love me?” He turns to you and looks you in your shocked eyes. His are softened and tear filled. “I am not adverse to that... however could I maybe get to know you a little better first?” you say back, as lovely as this boy is, and no matter how much you wanted to love him, you couldn’t really say that yet.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so stupid, sorry for that, why would I ask that on the first date? What the hell? But also yes yes that’d be amazing. I’m so sorry though.” His cheeks flush and you can tell a mile off that he’s flustered, he’s still cute though. You giggle in return, “You’re too cute.”

And so you continue along the board walk, hands clasped together, you both make your way to his next show.

𖣔 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𖣔

𝖫𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽

𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀, 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽!

[kaedeichinose]

Opinions on Epithet Erased

i did end up watching it just because it kept showing up in my recommends and i figured i fucking might as well and i needed something to do for 20 minutes while i steamed my pores and needed some background noise while i did other shit and i think. theres some general potential.  

character designs are pretty solid all around, nothing bad but some better than others. they dont really all mesh with each other per say but i dont really have a grasp of what aesthetic the show is trying to go for in the first place so? like its modern but also theres cowboys and robot girls i guess. theres some alright jokes but i feel like its mostly in the delivery rather than the jokes themselves. i know it was based off a dnd campaign but slapping dnd mechanics into the show itself was really stupid and completely detracts from the entire vibe. 

i think they did an alright job of making a diverse power system but i feel like some powers are a little too abstract so its hard to actually get a read on what anyone's powers should reasonably be capable of. like molly’s 10 but her skill set already seems pretty diverse and fairly good even compared to “trained” users who are way older than her. 

i do think it gets a little too insincere for its own good. like i think having characters narrate their own sections is neat and an interesting way to characterize everybody on a budgeted production but i think they sometimes get into the habit of firing off as many jokes as possible without letting anything breathe. like i feel like i know lots about molly but basically nothing about most anyone else, and mollys only in half the show, and i think its mostly because a lot of the dialogue and narration is just quips and disingenuous catchphrases so the other characters didnt literally get invited to exposition their backstory on a bench. the overly comedic tone of the show does also make it hard to take the more “serious” stuff like molly’s backstory, well, seriously.

i think ramsey and percy had the stronger dynamic because they were a more even balance of personality traits vs molly whos at 0 the entire time and giovanni who is at 150 at All Times which can be fine but idk i felt like it was missing something. 

also rating all your characters with a stat system is kino but making it like triple tiered but also barely anyone makes it out of the first tier is like. cool. what was the point of these. 

[astronomifier]

Magnus Relisten Eps 13 & 14

Happy friday, though for most people it’s Saturday already. I may try to make up for lost episodes by doing a Sunday episode, but we’ll see. untill then, we have Alone and Piecemeal.

Episode 13: Alone Case #0161301 Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding the events following the funeral of their fiancé, Evan Lukas. Statement taken directly from subject.

So this is a very good episode. The issue I’m kind of having is that its so solid that it’s hard to really describe why. It works like a well oiled machine, where its hard to see how its actually constructed, but it never quite strays into “amazing” territory for long enough that a specific moment stands out. But I’ll try. The narrators reaction to Evans death hits the sad note its going for, the Lukas family is delightfully creepy in a way thats not even really supernatural, and the final, supernatural encounter is also delightfully scary. Herne describes herself as feeling “Forsaken” in this episode, and the episode definitely gets that feeling across. Also, the final scene goes on for a really long time without ever overstaying its welcome, really just drawing you in to the world its building in a way that im not quite sure tma has done yet, other than perhaps in vampire killer. With that said, there are a few small flaws. I think the lead up to Evan’s death goes a bit long on the exposition. It fulfills its purpose well enough, but its a bit clunky. The rest relates to the fact that this is our first guest star episode.

So, lets segue to narrator-watch. We get a nice moment with Jon and Naomi at the start, which really makes the guest star bit seem worth it just in and of itself, honestly. Just the way Naomi says that she doesn’t want to be alone... its good. I do have a few issues with our actress, though. Katie Davidson does a good enough job overall, it totally works. But I do have two issues: the first is that a couple of lines feel a bit overacted, specifically moments where Naomi recalls having realizations... its a nitpick, but it was noticable. The second is that for the first episode where someone is recalling a personal story, Naomi seems less emotional about her supernatural encounter than Jonathan has sounded about some of the ones he’s been reading in statements! Like, listen, i dont think this is the worst voice actress or anything, and i think most of the voice talent on this show is generally “good”, but it wasn’t as strong as it could be.

8/10 a really good episode, with only a few small flaws, but it never quite gets me to go “holy shit i need to tell my friends about this” the way Vampire Killer did.

SPOILER PARAGRAPH: so! our first encounter with the Lukas family, and i believe with the Lonely as well. Funnily enough, though, or flagship Lukas, Peter, never explicitly appears in the episode. I mean sure, he could easily be one of the nameless family members at the funeral, but its an interesting choice. Makes things a little less neat than it would otherwise be. Personally, my headcanon is that Peter was so deep in the Lonely that he decided to just stay on his boat instead of showing up. As far as the Lonely, not much to say here except for that i love how melancholy Lonely episodes can get. Its less about scaring your pants of, and more about making you feel uneasy and unfulfilled in a way that Jonny is really, really good at pulling off. We’ll see lots more of this going forward, especially in season 4.

Episode 14: Piecemeal Case #0112905 Statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding their murder of their associate, Paul Noriega.

Another good one. Short and sweet, with quite a creepy central event. To start us out, the scene where we meet Angela is... weird, in a way that i think is characteristically Magnus. The body part stealing “witch” doesn’t have a witchy aesthetic, she’s just a strange old lady who really, really loves puzzles in a way that may or may not be linked to her ability to steal little bits of people. Its clever, its creepy, and its odd. I like it. Then we get our murder scene with Norega, where i think the fact that it is perfectly mundane is kinda makes it worse. Theres no lore or mystery to it, just human on human brutality. And yet you get the feeling that Norega is more afraid of Rentoul than he is of the supernatural things happening to him. Finally, we have Rentoul’s discovery of the curse that has befallen him. In sharp contrast to Dreamer this isn’t drawn out at all, Lee Retoul makes it very clear how it works and how inevitable it is in record time. I think this was a great descision. the inevitability, the clear, unbreakable rules surrounding the curse, that’s what really makes it scary. best to lay it out and let the listener connect the implications themselves.

Our narrator today, Lee Rentoul, is another one with a big personality. Fun Fact: This episode was the first where Jonny was told to tone back his use of swear words while writing. Rentoul is a hardened criminal, and he makes it very clear. In fact, its kinda his only character trait. I don’t think he’s as interesting a person as some of our previous narrators, but he is an interesting vessel for the story.

7/10. Kinda wondering if i should have spaced out my ratings a bit more on earlier episodes. This is definitely better than some of our 6′s but i cant bring myself to put this above Across the Street. Maybe just barely. Eh, its not as good as Page Turner, so this is fine.

SPOILER PARAGRAPH: so remember how in Thrown Away we talked about how Jonny hadn’’t really figured out what the Flesh was going to be like at the start of the show? well... that’s still true here, i think, but we’re closer. This episode is more directly about body horror and physical injury, but both this episode and thrown away fail to actually get into the whole “eating” part of the Flesh. I mean sure, Angela mentions some vague line about “hunger”, but its not really the focus. Which is odd, as our canonical explanation of the flesh is that its animal’s fear of being slaughtered and eaten. But hey, the Flesh is also canonically weird, and this definitely gets into the slaughtering part. And before you say anything, no, i don’t think this episode could be a manifestation of the Slaughter. There’s not nearly enough glee or gore involved in our narrator’s fate, and the violence isn’t really the point. also one more note. Salesa’s box. is there any chance that this is the same box that Selesa has in “Held in Customs”? the episodes are about a decade apart, so i doubt it. But hey, first appearance of Selesa on the show!