#its a mix that turns the setting itself into a character but ok | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marximoff · 2 years ago

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take me, one more wave | w. maximoff

summary: you start to take your first steps towards healing, but that doesn't mean the path will be easy. luckily for you, Wanda happens to be a great listener.

warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving), fingering (r receiving), hair pulling (Wanda receiving), dirty talk, dry humping, maybe a cumfilled strap hint, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, heavily detailed panic attack, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 11k

A/N: ok, things are finally getting better in a certain way (and horny, these people are horny), but the question is… how long will it stay like this, eh? kidding, i want the happiness of these two as much as anyone - but it's just so ironic to enjoy writing angst when you have a heart as gay as mine, i know

((wanda and r totally listened to deftones together btw

well, well, well, enjoy!

|series masterlist|

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

Wanda's unwary green eyes glance toward the face of the brown-strap watch, screwed on solemnly by the length of her slender right wrist, in a necessary acknowledgment of the time marked by the small gray hands on its monotone interior—seven forty-two in the morning, still there is plenty of time to have breakfast peacefully and subtly.

And then she hears, in an avid gulp, Tommy drink the entire contents of his glass of warm milk at an astonishing speed, almost as if to quench a naughty thirst in the back of his throat that has lingered for more than days. And then Wanda takes a deep breath. It would be nice if he understood a little more of what peacefully and subtlety really mean.

Then she just blinks slowly because soon after she turns, with a spatula, the face of a homogeneous, round mass of blueberry and oatmeal, which is fried before the extension of a metal frying pan which she holds by the handle with her right hand, the pancake shivering in the air as she does.

Y/N used to be a natural breakfast pancake connoisseur, Wanda remembers well, which is why she suspects her boys have a specific taste for their morning meal too – blueberry pancakes, sugary cereal, toast with butter and orange juice, just as their mother was so fond of too.

Behind Wanda, then, on the counter stretched out to the left side of the sink, a juicy orange sliced in half floats and squeezes against a juicer made of yellow plastic, the spherical fruit with a porous rind shrouded in a thin layer of scarlet mist all around itself (the fruit which is enchanted to press itself against the object), turning and squashing, until all its fresh juice is extracted into a thick glass jar.

Nearby, in a pale plastic bowl, a wooden spoon turns clockwise as it mixes more pancake batter on its own.

At the dark dining table, which is set not that far from the stove where Wanda is standing on its edge, Billy, intently, finishes verifying a question answered the night before in his math notebook, eyes diligently digging into each of the numbers written there on the sheet of paper in airy strokes of pencil lead by his refined grammar, while Tommy, still with his cheeks cluttered with long swigs of warm milk, nibbles a green apple with a slurping hollow sound of “fronc”, even though his absorbed gaze does not fail to capture any movement made by the cartoon character that is highlighted by the television screen placed some distance away from the table, next to the dark linen sofa.

The sweet melic essence from the pancakes intoxicates the interior of the house, like an irrepressible deluge of intense domestic flavors worthy of a family environment, with its den centralized in the kitchen – a room which is being covered by a serene sheet of external solar beams, shy golden streaks, thin as small threads of gold, that enter the room through the long panes placed in their thin windows raised in front of the sink.

The mild climate that hangs over the city during the early afterglow of the morning, despite the sunny day that stretches across the celestial field, is prone to somewhat heavier clothing than the usual spring shots require, but this is something that in no way bothers the excellent brown-haired witch, who, in turn, wears, buttoned to her chest, only a simple silk shirt, and nothing superimposed on this banal piece of clothing.

As for her children, on the other hand, Wanda has that maternal need to wrap them up and keep them healthy and warm, which is why both twin boys wear long, thick fabrics on their small bodies – to shelter from the subtle chill that plagues that phlegmatic morning regurgitated through the so prosaic Westview.

“Boys” she calls over her shoulder in a motherly tone, “Have you packed your bags yet?”

“Yes, mama” is the immediate response from Billy, still sitting at the table.

"I was going to do that right now" and then Tommy gets to his feet, leaving the half-bitten apple on the table, "Be right back"

The boy turns his back and then heads towards the stairs - although his speed is not exceeding that of a normal child, there is still, on Tommy's part, a useful lightness in his actions as he steps fast, one foot right behind the other, down the wooden steps, inferring a warning from Wanda's reprimanding side.

"Tommy, please don't run up the stairs, I already told you that"

But there is no answer to be heard – just the tiny sounds of fast footsteps to be perceived stepping away, towards the upper floor. Wanda blows out a helpless sigh, shaking her head in denial as she mutters silently under her breath.

"I swear, he's just like his mother..."

There is the squawk of a bird outside the house, along with the wheels of a car on the asphalt. Wanda flips the pancake again, and then another one after that, before feeling the tiniest touch of solemnity beside her hip and a pair of expectant little eyes looking at the contour of her jawbone, right next to her ear.

“Mama?” a tiny voice calls out to her, sounding uncertain and vulnerable at her core.

Wanda allows herself to smile with the corner of her pink lips, losing the focus placed on her blueberry pancakes as she turns to the boy.

It is Billy who catches her eye, holding the hem of her silk shirt between the tips of the small fingers of his right hand. He wears a jacket of roomy red, white, and blue stripes to his juvenile torso, and looks down at the floor beneath his sneakers when Wanda tries to make eye contact with those eyes inherited from her ex-wife's family, offering him an affectionate smile, showered with kindness.

“What is it, Billy?”

But there is a hesitation in the speech on the part of the boy, Wanda doesn't take long to verify this fact because she knows him so well, she just knows so much about him. And the little boy seems cornered, somewhat irresolute, in an internal conflict with his own efforts to say whatever it is he has to say (because he presses his lips together and doesn't sustain eye contact with his mother). Wanda just knows, at her heart, that something isn't right.

And then she squats down on her knees, lowering herself to a height where she and Billy would be eye level, and Wanda scans his childish face with her gaze in half a second – his eyes looking back at her, the hesitation in the midst of the darkness, the disinclination which he is no longer able to hide as much as his mother is interested in the cunning childish caution. She takes her lower lip in her mouth and opens and closes her eyes, expelling a gust of warm air through her nostrils.

The hard plastic spatula magically continues to flip and fry the pancakes in the pan, even when Wanda no longer does it directly.

“Baby, what is it? Did something happen?” Moving her fingers closer to her son, Wanda holds him so that she can take the contour of his small face between the palms of both hands.

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you, dear?"

“Can I” Billy limps in an ambiguous vagueness, supported by his mother's gaze, which in turn propels him an encouraging smile, “Can I stay home today, mama?”

Something in Wanda tinkles – but she knows she shouldn't show such sudden estrangement at the boy's request, even though she knows well that it's not like him to be the type who openly takes advantage of any possible loophole to be able to skip class. She just tilts her head to the side of her left shoulder, stroking the skin of her son's cheeks with both thumbs in a circle.

“Why, baby? You like going to school so much... Did something happen there? Did someone say something to you?”

“Uh, no, no one said anything… it's just that” Billy falters a bit in wavering hesitation, brow furrowed, and a flash of fur creased between his dark brows, “They think too loud, mama. And I can hear what they think... what they think of me. They think I'm different. They are afraid of me"

The distraught voice lectured her, a grim veil clouding his innocuous childish gaze, his small, dull face exhaling an air of embarrassment, melancholy weighing down on his thick lepidopteran lashes, both razor-edged eyebrows twisted in a caliginous way.

There's an excruciating moment of silence, supplanted by an aching feeling of Wanda's heart squeezing inside her chest; a troubled gaze spread across her emerald-green eyes.

She knows what it's like, hearing what they think so loud it sounds like screaming inside her head, feeling what they feel to the point of wanting to throw up. The fear. The disgust. And she only came to feel it when she was already a young woman somewhat older than her boy is, better able to deal with this avalanche of judgments that feel like mosquitoes buzzing around her brain.

But Billy is just so young, and so small.

She knows what they think, what they assume—the boys' mothers are gifted with superhuman abilities, and so will they someday. And it’s scary. Perhaps with Billy there is even more stigma; after all, he is a sweet child, quiet and careful, even a little shy – the kind of child Wanda herself once was also.

With a gulf of anguish regurgitating her stomach, the enchantress touches the scrawny left shoulder of the harried boy with the palm of her hand; a faint, complacent smile directed at her son.

“Oh baby, they just don't understand…they don't understand what you are. And sometimes some people are afraid of what they don't understand. I think it's part of human nature to be surprised by the different, and believe me, I know how it is... how difficult it is, to be different. I know"

“Mom told me that everyone is a little different” the boy carries himself in a downcast way, somewhat embarrassed, prompting a frown on the part of Wanda, who promptly gives him a curious look.

“But… but no one seems to like it when I'm different...”

And then, she presses her lips together in a line. There's a pile of forgotten pancakes by the now-off stove.

“I…I understand, Billy. I used to think about myself in a certain way too, but... I know I'm something else. And so are you, honey. But that doesn't mean that you and I aren't ourselves anymore, we just... have something different that makes us a little different from other people”

She sighs.

“Me, you, your mom and Tommy, we… we're different, but that's who we are. And I know this isn't what everyone sees, but... you're still you, Billy. You’re still my sweet, precious little boy. So it's okay to be different, because you'll always have us on your side, honey. We could never leave each other even if we tried. Do you know why?”

She questions, in soft tones of a warm, loving maternal touch.

“Because a family is forever?”

Wanda smiles, caressing the skin of Billy's cheek with the pad of her thumb.

"Yes, baby. A family is forever. You, Tommy, me and your mother will always be a family. Even if it's a family of a bunch of weirdos with superpowers” she adds in a chuckling tone, inferring, on the boy's part, in a warm little smile, “You don't have to be afraid to be different, honey. Stand your ground, be yourself, and the rest of the world can never touch you”

“Even if they are afraid of me?”

“You can't control their fear, Billy” she pats him on the cheek, “Only your own. And you should never be afraid to be who you are”

“Right” Billy smiles, and, as in an infectious spread of his childish alacrity, Wanda ends up doing it too, “I can’t be afraid of who I am”

"That's right, honey"

She then stands up and wraps her forearms around the boy's scrawny shoulders, pulling his small body close to hers, enveloping him in a loving embrace that is gladly accepted when Billy tucks his face into her chest.

Wanda had long ago retained his facial features in memory (the sharp eyebrows, the small nose, the strong cheekbones like hers), but the witch, however, still devoted herself to studying him just to see that the boy was real, and he was there, and he was hers to love and care for; just as she did also with his brother.

She therefore placed a chaste kiss on a beam of skin on his forehead, before arranging for the caresses between the strands of his short, light brown hair. He still gave off a pleasant baby smell.

“I love you, Billy. I love you and Tommy very, very much” she smiles, and so does he, “But now I need to go see why your brother is taking so long to pack his bag, because I don't trust him alone for more than ten minutes and it's been a while since he went up"

And Wanda isn't the least bit surprised to find Tommy finishing his homework five minutes later – even though it's only thirty minutes before school starts this morning.

ᗢ

The tenuous hands of the circular clock on the wall emit ticks, clicks, as they move to mark the time of little more than 2:22 on a particularly gray afternoon, with infinitesimal touches of an insistent spring chill taking care of your keen senses inside one of your many, many jackets - this particular one is made of a dark material, with fleece trimming around the collar.

You took a sip of warm coffee before you arrived, interspersed with a few puffs of smoked cigarettes, and you think about having another cup of the hot drink once this meeting finally comes to a very anticipated ending.

The wall on which the clock is located is far away, painted in bands of a pale yellow and navy blue, but even so, your eyes focus on that thin piece of red plastic turning, getting lost in seconds, marking the emptiness of your gaze in an absorbed hypnosis that turns your brain into a dysfunctional, vacant mass. Concentration dispenses with intrusive thoughts, and you don't want to think about anything right now.

Still, something inside of you wants to get up, march and go to the sign that says, in big white bold letters, “HOW TO GET BACK NOW THAT THEY ARE BACK?” and rip that damn thing off like you rip a band-aid off a well healed wound.

It sounds stupid being there. You feel stupid for being there. What’s the point of being there?

Your heel propels your right knee up and down in a continuous motion of tendons, like the fluttering wings of a stirring bee. Up. Down. Up. Down.

On the thick material of your jacket, close to your right lapel, is an inviting sticker announcing your name written in the glossy lines of a thick, red highlighter, but the ripple of feeling characterized by the features of your face is nothing short of inhospitable and even a little grumpy.

You know you don't want to be there. You want to get up and go out and smoke a cigarette until you choke on the smoke and develop asthma (or something among those lines, whatever, who cares).

Then your leg wobbles. And it wobbles. As if you were trying to soothe one of your children when they were still tiny little babies, rocking them sitting on the kneecap of your knee joint.

But in the closed circumference of aluminum chairs, with broken people all gathered in a circle like a bed of dead flowers, that's not the only tic to point out (since an older man keeps poking his restless fingers, and a short-haired woman just can't seem to get her hand off her neck).

Fucking therapy group, that's what goes through your head when your teased eyes scrutinize around, finding themselves with gazes as bewildered as yours, among the other taciturn and hollow phantoms that mark their place in the thin unfolded chairs.

Everyone here is also a fucked up, one way or another.

Your leg wobbles.

The drinking fountain placed in the corner of the room bubbles a lot, but in view of the fact that you already were there for a considerable amount of lengthy long minutes, which were very painful to expire at the meager speed of a lame turtle (causing, thus, in your resigned relinquishment of counting them inside your own head), frugally seated in an uncomfortable creaky metal chair and utterly saturated, bored to the limit in your imo, this was not the first time the bubbles had sailed with snoring noises of “blob-blob” by the iced water.

You sigh in defeat, shrugging your shoulders into the faux leather of your jacket that is a bigger size than you really are – since there's nothing else you can do about it, you just hope to be able to remain in silence until the end of the meeting. It just seems… pointless, in all your honesty.

It's not as if you have any real interest in the account of that bespectacled man, with thinning hair already giving indications of a coming baldness, who so heartily narrates, with an audible lump pressed down to his throat, of the day that some friend of his (or his boyfriend, you didn't pay close attention and honestly you don't have any disposition to do so) crumbled to dust before his eyes on a casual lunch date on the 7th Avenue.

Or about how that same boyfriend knocked on his door five years later, as if nothing had happened, only to find him married for two years to another man.

Your leg wobbles.

"It's... it's hard, to think that you've moved on, that... that it's okay, that you're okay" his nasal voice echoes through the vault of the school gymnasium.

"Only for it all to come crashing down again when you least wait. When you see someone, or smell an odor, or hear a sound and... and suddenly it's all back, right there in front of you. Like it's happening again and again and again and there’s nothing that you can do about it”

You, however, aim cowardly eyes at your own feet, at your favorite pair of threadbare white Converse sneakers with the baggy laces that Wanda scolded you now and then for failing to tie them properly.

You know all about the creeping flashbacks slinking through the cracks of your damned soul. And the nighttime torments are your most frequent roommates – the shadows of your sleepless nights echoed to your bedroom wall.

You then let out a languid yawn, weary, turning to the wall clock above the Midtown High School bulletin board (the Academic Decathlon Team had won nationals once again in Washington), reality slipping away from you, giving stage to the impertinent boredom watered by the purest monotony, devastating everything that is present in its field of reach.

Click, click, stop. Click, click, stop – makes the clock. Your leg wobbles. And wobbles. But it stops just as abruptly, once someone calls out your name.

You blink just one time.

“Y/N?” it's Dr. Raynor who catches your eye when you look airy and scattered, urging you to tilt your chin toward her.

The middle-aged, upright woman sitting parallel to you with her right knee crossed over her left thigh, exuding a kind of polished erudition that makes her look out of place in the circle of chairs, looking too sophisticated to sit there in the company of wretched souls like those half-a-dozen poor sufferers (you included), aims your way with her dismayed eyes, and there's even a shadow of cynicism in those dark irises like burnt coffee beans that squint toward you.

Something about her tough stance, however, hints at a certain militaristic past, and you kind of turn up your nose at such a notion about the therapist.

It only takes a second of staring into the vacant eyes of that tart-faced woman for you to feel the bitterness of regret take over the tightness in your aching stomach, and a kind of compunction sinks in your shoulders as you wonder why you ever even resorted to Bucky Barnes to get the war veteran to refer you to a suitable therapist in the first place.

Maybe the old bastard did it on purpose. But he's the one who's coping better after all, and not you by any means.

"Why don't you share something with the group, Y/N?" the tapered toe of her shoe points towards your left knee, “It's your first day, so we'd like to know a little more about you”

You feel eyes, a bunch of them, reorienting their route all towards you (focusing, emphasizing, gauging your own figure), and to you it's kind of like a trial where Dr. Raynor is your judge and jailer, just waiting for the moment to come for her to hit with the hammer, and then, be able to sentence you to death by hanging. To pay for your sins.

The fingers of your right hand press along the outline of your left palm. The incisors in your upper jaw chew and harm the soft flesh of your lower lip. Blood, they want your blood. May you pay for your sins.

There, in that linoleum-floored sports gymnasium, there is no caressing of a sincere reception, the good old heart-to-heart typical of suffering misfortunes that find reciprocity in the experience of similar tragedies; in fact it may even be, but it is not possible for you to feel supported and sheltered in the face of the paying victims of your fateful failure.

If they are there, conglomerated by melancholy, engaged by sadness, agonizing in regrets that seem impossible to overcome, it is because your actions have led to this inevitable unfolding of successive events.

Of course, everyone there knows your face from Twitter, from the news, Youtube videos, press conferences, magazine pages and the damn action figures who never quite got the color arrangement of your old black and white suit right (which is now battered and folded, with a hole in the abdomen, stuffed inside a cardboard box gathering dust at the bottom of your wardrobe).

J. Jonah Jameson once said live that you were just an irresponsible little girl who should be stopped and sent away. So, they know. And you know they know. It's your fault, after all.

All yours, solemnly yours, it’s your fault that their loved ones went back to dust, they know, they know that you failed, that you didn't stop it from happening, that you didn't jump into the abyss, that you didn't give your soul.

They know.

You clean the inside of your throat hard, swallowing a sip of still saliva as you do.

“I don't know if there's anything interesting that I can... that I can share, no,” you mutter thinly, noticing a dirt on the heel of your sneaker, “I've never done this before, so I'm not sure where to start, doc”

“How about why you decided to join us today? It's a good way to start, and then you can say more about your personal experience with what happened” a short pause, “If you feel comfortable doing so, of course”

She adds quickly, almost emulating some fortuitous tone of cynical kindness. There is a moment of hesitation, covered by uncertainty and even anguish.

You can lie. Maybe give them, the hungry wolves, a condensed version of the facts and then call it a day.

But there urges a sense of honesty within yourself, of not straying along the easy paths as you have been doing for so many years; not when your motivation to be there, in that chair, in that group, is your deep yearning to be the person to instill a sweet smile on Wanda's kissable lips one more time in her life. Of being a mother to Billy and Tommy again, and no longer an uncertain figure throughout their lives.

You want to give it a try. You need to give it a try. For them (your family), it's always for them.

“My… my ex-wife asked me to come over, honestly” is what comes out of your mouth after a few shots of a long silence, “I think everyone here knows who she is. Who we are... who we were. What were we doing back then”

Your leg swings again, in a spasm of restless muscle.

“I think I'm here because I want to get better for her. For our... for our children. They don't deserve the way I treated them after… after all this shit, no”

You press your lips together in a thin line.

“I know they needed me. That they needed me to be there, but… it was hard. After that everything was just so goddamn difficult. Wanda, the boys... they've been gone for far too long. And I stayed. I just... just got left behind. And it was like that too when my parents died, I know, I should have known how to deal with it by then, but… but my parents didn't die because of me. I wasn't the one driving that fucking truck that hit us at 75 miles per hour. But that day... that day I was there, and I... I…”

You shift uncomfortably against the icy chair and clear your throat to ward off the acidic tears that accumulate in small pools inside your eyes, intercrossing your forearms in front of your chest as you lean your spine against the aluminum backrest.

“Wanda went to therapy after she got back, but I just… stayed there. Still. Stagnant. Not doing a damn thing about all of this stuck in here, in me. Drinking myself to sleep and staying up late. I think I just- I just couldn't get back to normal, you know? Not like other people did. Like there's something wrong with my damn brain programming, I don't know. I could barely hear my children cry without wanting to cry along with them, I… I didn't think I was worthy of touching my wife anymore, I... I don't know. I don't know"

And the one who gets the stage to speak is taciturnity, cold and cutting like the edge of a dagger.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know”

There's so much you want to say.

So much stuff that swells and bubbles to be regurgitated out of you. They are words that are watched over by the martyrdom of your chest, contained in your guts, in your bones, in your bloodstream. Compunction has become part of your genetics at this point, you can even feel it moving through your cells, proliferating through your system like the ramifications of a harmful disease.

You do want to talk. But you just don't speak.

What you actually do is get to your feet, stretching your knees into the comfortable material of your pale baggy jeans, and then turn on your heels toward the half-open double doors of the gym, head down towards the floor, and the shoulders retracted as the psychologist calls out your name.

The only noise that accompanies your movements is the soles of your sneakers against the linoleum floor, making rhythmic squeaking sounds as your gait takes on a running air.

And you walk, one knee after the other, in a dreadful stomping march to the chipped pavement, even as the dimness of a firm grip leaves you blind as it swathes your corneas, and deaf as it envelops your eardrums.

The unavoidable collapse that follows, like the ends of a tasteless piece, is like a bolt of lightning that discharges from the heavens at the top of your head seconds later – electricity running through your nerves, your tendons, your spastic muscles.

It takes approximately seven seconds for hyperventilation to take over.

And you squat down, with both your feet flat on the pavement, when the joints of your legs sag and falter like soft lemon jelly, because the air becomes thick and gritty and so strenuous to swallow into your bronchial tubes, and even as the tissue in your lungs inflates and deflates like shriveled bladders being squeezed by vigorous fists, there is not enough oxygen for the blood in your head to flow, and the nausea and dizziness that wash over you like waves become too much to bear alone.

Maybe that was what it felt like to swallow a bunch of razor blades. Your pharynx constricts until it takes on a shape similar to a crumpled sheet of paper, and dark flashes crisscross your field of vision as your senses derail and fail.

Your skin bristles. You try to suck in the air, to keep it to yourself within the pathways of your sweltering aching lungs, but nothing happens. Your collapsing muscles no longer respond to your will.

Stomach acid rises up your larynx and the taste are disgraceful when it slides across the face of your tongue, an acrimonious sourness that burns between your teeth and seems to want to escape amid your parched lips. You slam your eyelids together as your heart seems to throb, swell and compress in thunderous internal hammers against the bones of your rib cage.

It looks like you're going to have a heart attack and die right there. And it’s dreadful. Petrifying, even. And then you blink once. And then twice.

The smell of scorched earth hangs in the air like a fog based on terror and despair.

There is nothing in all the vast longitudinal footage comprised of tens of miles circuited to your surroundings that is not limited to ruins, or craters, or rubble.

Vibrant whirs of spaceships rip through the slate-gray skies, metal and technology gleaming every time the sun comes out in timid beams from behind the thick clouds of smoke that billow into the sky—and then screams, several of them, and explosions, and the characteristic shiver of shimmering magic comes from the vanguard of Kamar-Taj's resident sorcerers in their quilted brown robes.

There are hundreds of devoted souls going to war against Thanos' army (again).

The undaunted battalion of Wakandan soldiers wade through the ruins and force their way through the row of gruesome alien sentries, brandishing their spears and shields where their strength is most concentrated, honoring their king in a dialect you've never heard before.

From their shoulders hung cloaks and fur, embroidered with droplets of blood and sludge of freshly splatted clay. Long streaks of yellowish-orange blistering magic pour from the battlefield.

I don't want to be here, you think as your vision clears the image of a colossal Ant-Man in the distance, as the deifies esoteric figure of a goliath, delivering a stunning punch to a winged creature wearing plates of extraterrestrial mineral armor, your own suit feeling suddenly too tight around the neck contour for you to breath appropriately.

I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.

Archers, spearmen, mages, heroes, mounted swordsmen and a hundred more warriors to command them. The palms of your hands squeezing your own temples, crushing your skull thorough your hairline, quelling skin between your bent fingers.

I don't want to be here. Thanos killed my kids and my wife and my friends and he's here and it’s my fault that he’s here and I'm going to fail again and I'm going to die and everyone’s going to die and it’s my fault, it is all my fault.

You don't remember that it was Wanda who found you, crouching and deplorable like a wounded animal, tearing up wails of treacherous anxiety in the middle of the battleground; your face was smeared with dirt, dust, tears and blood. She didn't say, but she could hear the turmoil of your fretful thoughts from afar, all the way across the combat zone.

“Y/N! Baby!” the voice sounded so buoyant, covering the roars of the war raging round about you.

You don't remember seeing her again, all beautiful and sweaty, after five years apart from her. You don’t recall that when Wanda cried out your name, you could barely trust your ears as you lifted your head and saw her there, your gorgeous wife standing before you again.

And then you sobbed harder, and the first thing you uttered towards Wanda (after approximately 1825 days - 43.800 hours - without seeing her) was a chorus of wails, a compilation of cries, thick tears running down the contour of your scrunched nose as she involved your quivering, dirt-spattered body against herself.

She kissed the top of your head and a beam of perspiring skin of your forehead over and over again, cuddling you close to her necessitous tight embrace, because before she turned to dust, she also thought you were going to die in her arms. Her long disheveled red hair was like a curtain that captured you inside it, a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the war that raged there, around you.

“You’re alive Y/N, ty zhiv, moya lyubovʹ” she muttered against your murky hairlocks, more to herself than to you to hear, “You’re alive, baby, you’re alive, you’re alive”

“S-sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry Wanda, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Wanda, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m so sorry"

But this you remember, nonetheless. Of disgrace and shame. Of exhilaration and desolation.

From breaking down and wailing, crying out her name, bursting into tears, squeezing the material of the long, tattered, crimson coat that roofed your wife's warm body through your eager fingers. Of squeezing her so hard, your knuckles turning white, as if again she would go up in a cloud of dust through your firm grip if you let her go one more time.

As if you could still lose her, even when she was there, as close to you as she was. As if your grasp was the only thing holding her back to material reality.

You had so much to say to her. So much to tell, so much to ask. But after five years, your initial reaction was to grab her sturdy forearms and ask for forgiveness like a drooling, out-of-control child. Like someone with a widowed heart. Like a second chance.

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Wanda, I’m so sorry!"

And she held you close because she cried too. Because for a moment she was sure that she had lost you. That you had bled to death on the ground, your eyes empty and icy, blood seeping from your broken lips, and she wasn't there to hold you when the life had completely drained from your wounded body.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, you’re here, you’re safe, I’m here with you dorogoya”

It certainly wasn't the first time you've shed guilty tears on Wanda's behalf, though. And, of course, that wouldn't be the last time either.

ᗢ

Although, at the beginning of the week, a wave of scarce chill had hit the northeast region of the country, it was enough for when Friday arrived, right after the end of the week, for the sinuosities of the heat to return to the spring calendar, and a sweltering climate face again.

Over the pleasant little town of Westview, then, hangs the celestial vault, dazzled by dusk, from which all twinkle, like vivid space fireflies, the antecedent stars of a new tomorrow which contingently would come to lean over the serene little town, situated to the Mid-Atlantic region of US New Jersey.

The warm climate of seven o'clock at night prompts Wanda, in her residence, to dress her body only in a light burgundy silk shirt, and nothing superimposed on this simple piece of clothing.

She had just had dinner (both Y/N and their twin sons claimed there was something peculiar about her macaroni and cheese), and so she was ready to do the dishes - living in a house with just her and two others little boys, there's not even an ample amount of cutlery and plates in her possession to enjoy over a meal restricted to three people.

The bell rings in sudden chimes into the house, however, and Wanda, halfway through sliding the bristles of a foamy brush in a clockwise direction across the face of a china plate, somewhat guided by curiosity to discover whoever was knocking at her door on a full Friday night, tries to quickly dry both hands on a dish towel after closing the sink's faucet, in order to head with cautious strides towards the main entrance.

Her two twin sons, both snuggled up on the linen sofa and with their respective backpacks looking like guard dogs at their post tucked close to their heels, glare at their mother with their smart gazes overwhelmed in interest as Wanda crosses the living room toward the front door.

“Who is it, mama?” Billy asks, looking at her over his small, withered shoulder, his voice echoing over the sound of a random cartoon.

“No idea” is the return that comes from Wanda, who slides both of her damp palms down the sides of her hip dressed in a pair of dark leggings.

Opening the door causes the boisterous night breeze to kiss the high, sharp cheekbones of her pretty cheeks— however, it’s the figure of a woman clad in a shabby leather jacket and baggy jeans, Y/N herself standing in her front porch, what really takes Wanda by surprise.

The mindful pair of clever eyes look at the deep emerald-green shade of her own irises in firsthand, gleaming in a ruddiness that glows expectantly, but then they scan the entire length of her body until, finally, they reach her hip height.

And then, they've doubled in size, and Wanda realizes that it's been a considerable amount of time since her ex-wife has seen her dressed in such tight clothing.

“Y/N...?” she raises a single eyebrow at the other woman who is there in her doorway, her hands tucked into both pockets of the jacket that adorns her body.

It's certainly not a face Wanda expected to see there that night (although, in her core, she knows it's a more than welcome sight, because she can actually feel her heart skipping a lot, abruptly fueled with energy as she does so, and her mouth kind of salivates a little bit).

“Uh, h-hey, hey Wanda” Y/N breaths then, looking lost in her own words. This time she doesn't smell like smoked cigarettes.

There isn’t, for Wanda, a way to not to feel her gaze scorching her considerably toned thighs, which, despite being covered by the dark elastane fabric, suddenly feel so exposed, as if what she was wearing there were just one of the miniskirts she loved so much when she younger.

There's a brief moment showered with tentative silence, at which Wanda can well hear Y/N gulp and shrug. She, in turn, crosses both arms along her rib cage, just below her breasts buttoned by her red shirt, and leans on her side against the doorjamb.

There is a failed attempt not to bring back to her memory the fact that a couple days ago, Y/N had her face sheltered between those same thighs that she stares at so carefully.

“So,” Wanda chirps after a hushed pause, distant cricket sonatas adorning her speech, “Can I… can I ask what you're doing here? I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but... you know...”

She shrugs a little awkwardly.

“Oh yeah, sure” and Y/N emits a husky sound, as if clearing her throat, “Well, you told me to pick up the boys for the weekend on Friday, and… today is Friday"

Wanda opens her mouth to speak, but then connects her lips again in a fine line. Y/N seems to have stated the obvious, but she still stares at her ex-wife as if waiting for her reaction.

“Y/N” she begins, pronouncing the name in a slow-sounding voice, “I told you to pick up the boys next Friday, not this. Today they are going to sleepover at a friend's house. You know, Dottie, from school”

Y/N blinks once, and then one more time in realization of the facts. And then, she raises both of her eyebrows in a half-funny awe.

“I- wait, really?!”

“Well, yes” Wanda nods her head in confirmation, even as she cages a spark of laughter in the back of her throat, “Actually, I was about to leave to drop them there”

“I, I- well shit, I was actually going to order hamburgers this time…”

And that's when Wanda can't help but chuckle softly, feeling her shoulders light up against the silk of her shirt as they sway subtly.

“You can tag along with us” Wanda proposes in a friendly and courteous tone of voice that portrays a smile, despite not having expressed it to her lips as she said, “If you want to, of course”

She adds quickly, almost like a thin squeak of a hesitant little mouse, eyeing her ex-wife in an expectant air – the fingers of her right hand hook uneasily through the fingers of her left hand as she does so.

And she doesn't know exactly why she'd offered it to Y/N, but something adorned by a rash itch inside her sort of wanted her to accept the proposal, like a fish accepting the bait of a hook. Wanda wants to hook her. She wants to hook her and keep her for herself.

And something even more urgent thumped in a throbbing gasp within her guts when it was that Y/N willingly nodded, nodding and a complacent half-smile broken at the corner of her lips, her hands still clasped inside her jacket pockets, sort of emulating a jock pose.

And something builds up inside Wanda for a third time, when the family of four finds themselves snugly secured by the seat belts of her car (a Buick Verano dyed in a can-of-tomato-sauce-red color that, in a way, goes well with her), the twins in the back and Y/N in the passenger seat, all neatly arranged in a homely and domestic way, performing with mastery the role of a well-structured family.

When, from the backseat, Tommy asked Wanda for a song and she promptly took her relaxed right index finger to press the digit on the little button that turns on the radio, only for the rustling sound that would encompass the interior of the vehicle to be the melody of an old alt rock song (a bit corny one), Y/N couldn't help but utter a hearty, nostalgic laugh as both boys grunted in tandem with the song's lyrics, and just as fast as she had done so before, Wanda quickly turned off the radio, feeling a flushed warmth heat her cheekbones and the tips of her ears.

She doesn't want to look the other way, at her ex-wife sitting close to the elbow on her right side. Wanda just wants to disappear in mortification.

She and Y/N used to have that same music as a soothing background for their late-night conversations in the compound, when the two of them, a couple of young girlfriends who could never get tired of each other, were just two bodies hugging and sweating against the rumpled sheets of her bed, the whole room smelling of sex and the red color – Deftones was definitely a band to listen to on pillowtalk… or at the heights of the passionate moans that would come after such pillowtalk.

“Ew, mama, what is this?” Tommy twists a beam of skin from his freckled little nose, and in the rearview mirror, Wanda sees Billy do the same in an expression of pure disgust.

“Wait, wait, wait, did your mama ever tell you guys about her goth phase?!” Y/N turns her chin over her left shoulder, flashing a smile cut in taunt mockery at which her voice sounds like a jocular laugh.

Wanda, on the other hand, grunts in embarrassment, squeezing the steering wheel material between her fingers. Maybe the boys wouldn't mind if she threw their mother through the windshield, after all.

ᗢ

The path back to the house had been solemn and, at Wanda's sheer request, you joined her in a romantic tasting of tea in the living room, having barely given up after the scorching mid-night that spills over Westview.

You didn't expect her to actually ask you to stay after you dropped the boys off at their friend's house (the little girl's mother, Sarah, certainly put an ulterior motive between you and Wanda, and your ex-wife swore her mouth to call her a bitch when it was just the two of you back inside her car), and you suspect she didn't expect you to accept the invitation either, because a veil of genuine astonishment fell over Wanda when you nodded with your head and smiled towards her.

(The initial invitation was for a glass of wine, but you said you were trying to avoid alcohol and Wanda apologized, and then the wine turned into tea which became a lame excuse for you to stay until after ten o'clock of the night)

The television which flickers, on its monochrome screen, a French film in black and white, is the only thing that fills the room with any kind of light or sound, as the two women, both seated well on the cushions of the dark sofa, say nothing more to each other (although a sudden abundance of coziness has surfaced in Wanda's exhilarating core, she who has her head bent dangerously close to her ex-wife's vigorous shoulder – her silky hair emanating a sweetened scent of strawberry shampoo).

You, however, roll on your axis in search of a comfortable position, and your elbow brushes lightly against Wanda's under the silk shirt, causing the two of you to look at each other curiously – two dark glances in the middle of the lighted room, only lit by the artificial lighting of a meaningless old romcom.

Wanda craves the comforting body heat radiating from you when as close to her as you are.

As much as you wanted to touch her, however, and felt your fingers tingling to do so; you, however, held the notion of the fact that between the two of you lay an invisible dividing veil, which neither of you would dare to cross a second time in such a short period of time.

And with that thought also tucked into her mind, Wanda chose to scoop more of her tea, enjoying the boiled hibiscus acrimony flavor that slides down the face of her tongue, between her teeth and the flesh of her cheeks. But she feels a gaze scrutinizing her from her jawline and cheekbones.

And you stare at her in ethereal devotion, simulating her gesture as she sips from the tea poured into her pretty china cup.

“So,” she calls, albeit from behind her teacup, “How's therapy going?”

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue.

"Well, I've only been in one meeting so far... and I couldn't make it to the end" shrugging, you just know there's no need to withhold the facts, "I know I need to, and I swear that I will, but... it's hard to bring it all back. It's exhausting, exhausting as fuck. Honestly, I just want to lie down and not get up”

“I know,” she says, in a tiny, meaningful voice, “Yeah, I know how it feels”

And the air is kind of bitter, but you know toughness is needed. You know about the fact that you made mistakes with the woman sitting next to your right elbow, after all (grotesque and disproportionate mistakes), and from that you always understood very well.

But withholding awareness of your errands to those you've hurt and trying to repair what's been broken, that's kind of a fresh start that Wanda wants to see in you.

“But I'm trying, you see. For the boys, for... for you... I'm trying, Wanda. I'm trying to be better for you. Trying to take responsibility for my mistakes”

Something sparks inside Wanda, in hibiscus-tasting greed. And she looks at your face – and you just want to feel her close, all to yourself, comfortable in your needy grip. It scorched in will and greed sharpened through your veins. But all she does is just look for another sip of tea.

“I'm happy for you, Y/N. I really am. I know that it's easier to live in denial, that it feels more comfortable to stay in a melancholy state of mind, that... that acknowledging that you need help is difficult. I know it's hard, trust me" she half laughs, "I think I know better than most what self-deception looks like. And I know that someone can't live like that"

And then she looks at you, and you look at her.

“But you deserve to allow yourself to heal, Y/N. Not for me or the boys, but mostly for you. You deserve more, much more than that. You deserve to heal” and then, a vague hesitation, “Because it's when you heal that I'll forgive you”

And the silence is tiny, but it lasts for a considerable amount of needy seconds. Someone laughs greedily in the movie on television, a plastered, off-air laugh, but you didn't pay any attention to the joke – not when Wanda is next to you, when you want that woman so much that your veins throb inside your skin just for you to take her for yourself.

And when she stands up, the linen on the sofa moving next to her body to do so, your gaze follows her closely, attentive, watching her make her way to the kitchen, whereupon Wanda heads towards a new round of hibiscus tea.

Her dark hair looks silkier than usual, and you want to run your fingers through the locks just to feel, between your avid digits, the softness that oozes from Wanda's head. To make sure that touching them one more time would be like reeling in a dark puddle from the source of your greatest victory, your greatest pleasure in life.

Then you get to your feet, stretching your knees out into your baggy old light blue jeans.

And as if a red leash is constricted around the outline of your neck and Wanda is the one holding the rein, pulling and squeezing until the blood rushes to your head, towing you around like her pet, you are magnetized towards the throbbing figure of your ex-wife – as if you might choke and suffocate if you didn't breathe from the scarlet oxygen molecules that evaporate so subtly through the pores of her skin.

You need her to fill your lungs, to quench your thirst, to teach you to breathe again.

And your fingers throb in anticipation as she turns and looks at you, standing there, in the middle of her kitchen, in the middle of the night; both of her irises drenched in a sharp shade of moss-green, her pupils dilated like two abyssal puddles you want to sink into, as if you're on the edge and need just one last incentive to give yourself away once and for all; her chest heaving weighty like an animal in confrontation mode.

And it doesn't surprise you, in fact, when the proficient witch stomps toward you and takes your face between her warm palms, grabbing the bones of your jaw to pull you into a needy kiss.

When your lips clash your obsession explodes inside your chest, as if your mind bends to Wanda's will; she who invades your senses with a deluge of scarlet liquid and usurps your essence, your soul, your heart.

You know you are as devoted to this woman as a believer is devoted to their god. That she is purely your religion and your belief, that her body is the reason for your idolatry.

Gradually, you obtained urgency to overcome the slowness, and rudeness took precedence over the elegance imbued in the act. The kiss is transmuted into something visceral and animalistic, primordial, just bodies lacking the warmth of flesh or the robustness of touch; a throbbing knot at the mouth of both of you bellies just waiting to be undone.

As if in a rehearsed ceremony, you run your hands over Wanda's thighs and evenly spaced knees, and she, in return, links the folds of her elbows to the outline of your neck, placing herself on your lap, belly to belly. Soon, a sly pink tongue slips back into her mouth in search of what is hers, expert and needy.

And then, a strong, powerful touch, palms wide open and pressed to the curve of Wanda's round ass over dark leggings, which elicits an ambrosial groan from her as you sit her on the kitchen table, rising from her heels, standing through her open legs.

And you dive towards her mouth again, being welcomed like a welcome hug.

You feel a warm forehead press to your pale skin band above your eyebrows. And you and Wanda open your eyelids at the same time – pupils dilated and not at all confused. You feel like two animals mating, studying, seeing who will devour the other first.

Dark strands like charcoal strumming against the material of your jacket that feels just so hot against your smoldering body.

Shedding with the tips of her cut nails along the line of your neck, Wanda, then morosely, slides her spandex-covered thighs across the accentuated bones of your hips, placing herself tucked beneath your navel—your legs bent, her heels rubbing against the jeans you wear.

Her gaze sharp and shadowed with impetuosity as you feel the familiar flicker of a crimson nebula caressing her mound of Venus, and Wanda's half-open mouth (parted lips gasping) projects a sly little grin at which she zippers your pants drop slowly, circled by a thread of intangible red.

In the green of her irises a haze of scarlet mist is traced and, like fire in a straw, it only takes a second for there to be no more trace of emerald in her eyes; red drowns green within its wall of vivid fire, red intoxicates you, red touches you where you urge to be touched.

“Wanda”

You mumble breathlessly, your breath hot against the pulp of her lips, her hand tucked inside your pants, fingers caressing you, your hips rocking in a friction against the tense lap below you.

“Wanda, Wanda please..."

“It’s okay, baby” the speech overflows in ecstasy, pure and high.

Expectantly, Wanda threads the sides of your hips with the insides of her thighs, searching for something only you can give her, her forehead pressed to yours.

“It’s okay, baby, you deserve this”

There's a hot touch on your clit and then you whimper in labored need, a whoosh of hot breath hitting your ex-wife's lower lip, a friction of your restrained hip rubbing against her nervous pelvis, looking out for each other.

Wanda's greedy nose drifts toward the curve of your neck, below your ear, and there she sucks between her lips a shaft of skin she could bite and nibble on.

The massage is continuous against your pleasure core, and the return comes in the form of suction, and then the flick of the cheek of Wanda's tongue against your stinging skin. On your part, a hollow groan implodes.

"F-fuck, fuck me, Wanda..."

“Shit, baby, you're so wet” she chokes against your mouth, “So tight Y/N…”

Wanda's cunning fingertips settle to your needy clit and then decline at your entrance in an idolatry-soaked endeavor, a continual action that brings out the nastiest, baser, animalistic side of you, who doesn't give a damn about the trouble of suppressing the yelps in your throat.

It's so raw, hot and visceral, so human, that you even seem to be able to cry while Wanda fucks you fervently on that table. There's something in you that needs her – you need her to untie the knot, to touch you in that place only she can touch.

Your clever hands run along the contours of Wanda's body through the fine silk of her thin shirt, which you don't take long to break the fastenings, buttons exploding like projectiles in all directions, so you can clear a path and then cover the pale skin of her neck with your own lips, brushing a lot of lethargic kisses and licks over her sensitive epidermis.

And then another finger appears. And followed by this, another one. Slipping, exploring and filling your embers inside. Stretching it, enlarging it and softening it.

You want to explode in red (so little is missing). Before you can squeal (the frayed lungs sparking to do so), another hand wraps itself around your neck, a stinging palm choking the yelp back into your throat. Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow as your inner walls press Wanda's fingers inside your cunt.

“You're close, aren't you? Huh?” The fingers curled inside you, coercing a ragged response from you. You nod fervently in affirmation.

“Y-yes, God, Wanda, please-!”

Her eyes flicker a maniacal crimson as she looks into your eyes, into your soul. And then she kisses you hard.

“Come, love” is ordered, in a mixture of moans and saliva on the pulp of her lips, “Come on my fingers, Y/N”

Like a spell, you do as she says.

As if your lover's oratory alone was enough to untie the knot of your lonely ecstasy, plaited all below your navel. Dark irises in smoldering glee dipped to the waterlines of your eyes, and a red haze, in delight, swamped your insides, pouring from your pulsing center the sweetest honey through Wanda's fist, imprisoned inside your lowered jeans.

So she kisses you where she can, as she can – in a thread at the tip of your brow, in the crimson cheekbone of your Apollonian cheek, in the corner of your sweet lips, in the curve of your tasteless chin. Your head drops to Wanda's shoulder, still drunk from the high of your climax. You can barely tell when the enchantress withdrew from your, only to bring her fingers to her lips, and taste your ether, your cum, with a shocked whisper in acknowledgment.

It took seconds for you to recover from the jolt of the powerful orgasm that washed over your pulsing core.

“You still taste the same” Wanda kisses a swath of sweaty skin above your brow, “So hot”

And then you stick your greedy nose into the curve of her pale, inviting neck, between a few strands of dark hair artificially smelling of strawberries, inhaling there the hallucinatory scent of Wanda's vegetable soap.

“Fuck, I love your smell. I fucking love your smell, Wanda”

And then, a new pressure blooms between your legs.

And it doesn't surprise you to see that there, by magic, a red phallus of considerable thickness and just the right length for Wanda to take was deposited around your pulsating clit. You know what she wants, and you feel ready to give it to her. You look at her as, without a word, you move your hips toward her, touching the tip of the silicone cock to Wanda the way you know she likes it, and you sip from the soft moan that bursts out of her.

“I want to feel you” she breathes, looking profoundly into your eyes as she does, “I want to feel your cock deep inside my pussy. I want you to tear me apart, Y/N”

Something inside you snaps. You then share a throbbing mouth moan, closed eyelids that keep dark and empty pupils, brows crumpled between the foreheads.

And then your hips begin its avid, pleasurable work, up and down, stimulating the nerve point deep within your ex-wife's thighs. Wanda is just a sweaty mess flanked by moans and rambling words; and pleasure, in its sweetest, purest, most genuine form, gnaws at your insides and demands more of you than you could ever imagine - a constriction in her womb that only you can touch.

Your ex-wife kisses you on the corner of your mouth, a flash of skin on your chin, the bone at the tip of your jaw - a lacked ecstasy compels you to collide with the pulps of her lips out of necessity, even if it is without the presence of tongues and an act much more carnal and rudimentary than it needs to be, so that the friction against her nervous lap never stops.

Her bundle of nerves is massaged, and as a result, Wanda squirms in between your legs.

“If you don't take those fucking pants off right now” you gasp against her ear, “I'm going to rip them off you”

“Y-yes” she pleads hoarsely. A haze of red is all it takes for the material of the pants to come undone, giving you access to Wanda's throbbing center.

"If you only knew... If you only knew how much I want to fuck you..."

You snake the smoldering tips of your fingers over the ruffled skin of the cool body below you, feeling the other woman's heavy breathing, drifting through the gap between her lovely breasts to her eager belly, leaving a hot trail of anticipation in its wake.

“How much I miss fucking you, and having to stifle your moans with my hand so you don't wake the boys... turn around, Wanda. Ass up”

And she does so without hesitation, her legs trembling in anticipation as her fingers pinch the edges of the table, and on the part of the experienced witch cringes a yelp as you squeeze between your palms both the pulps of her ass, massaging the soft skin, and carefully guides the toy to the entrance of the rosy, sensitive pussy, drawing from both parties a deep satisfying grunt as your fake cock comes into contact with the dark-haired woman's melancholic wetness in a burning, necessary and deliciously satisfying heat.

Still without penetrating her, however, prolonging your lover's preliminary pleasure as much as possible, you guide the length of the phallus to Wanda's swollen clit, masturbating her with the tip of your cock - and as you do, you take your skittish teeth to the curve of her pale neck with a faint scent of red, strawberry and sweat, where you began to pamper her bare skin with kisses and meticulous licks.

“Y/N please” she whimpers, quivering her ass in search of needy contact, “Please fuck me, please, ah-!”

Grinning hungrily against the bristly skin of her ivory neck, your teeth scraping the battered, reddened skin, you shove yourself against Wanda's wet, burning insides, which immediately spread a comforting sensation in her belly, complaining a small, barely audible “Fuck” out of her nose as you sink deeper and deeper into this delicious grip of delirious pleasure.

Wanda moans during penetration, throwing her head back dramatically, giving access to her throat for you, who cover it with kisses that leave her pale skin feeling feverishly warm. When you go all the way in, there's a needy squeal, and the television goes off-air—smell of sex and the color red oozing from her cunt.

“You're still so tight, damn it, Wanda,” your fingers tug at her scalp as, unceremoniously, you start a frantic rhythm against her ass, “I really missed your pussy squeezing me”

“Ah-ah-Y/N!” it was a squeaky grunt, her forehead against the wood of the table, “Glubže, malyshka, bystreye- faster- ah! Ah!”

The table rocks as you hit her cervix. The sound is of furniture creaking, and something in you roars. You love it. You love turning Wanda into a sweaty mess, filling her inside inch by inch, claiming her as your own, making her feel full of life.

As she leans on her elbows across the table and lifts her chest with heavy breaths, her hair being pulled toward you as she moans into her wet, nibbled lips, the brown locks covering her face like a dark veil, her breasts swaying at the same rate as the table legs scrape the floor and you sink deeper and deeper into it, she moans in pleasure like a needy beast.

“I bet you missed that too, huh?” you gasp, still keeping the steady rhythm of your strong hips against Wanda's, all the way inside her walls, “Someone to fuck you the way I know you like”

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes...!"

She takes her right hand back and grabs your forearm that holds her waist.

When she looks at you over her shoulder, you groan; at the sight of her drawn cheek rubbing against the wood of the table, the hollow of skin against skin echoing off the kitchen walls for a good few minutes now, you swaying your hips against Wanda's, taking distance as you move in and out of the warm embrace around her wet cunt, thrusting with the true intention of destroying her from within, taking her to heaven and hell if need to be done.

You bite your bottom lip, feeling your skein of orgasm begin to be woven in the pit of your belly.

“Wanda, fuck,” you curse into her name, sticking your nose into the crook of her pale neck with a faint scent of sweat, your hips fast, sloppy, in an unstoppable beat against her skin, “Wanda, Wanda, fuck, Wanda!”

“Faster, baby! Don't- don't stop- don’t stop- ah!” you do as she says, again.

You alternate between slow and fast, deep, precise movements, causing your ex-wife's eyes contorted beneath you to roll in their sockets, her chest being unconsciously thrust forward, brushing her nipples against the silk of her open shirt on the wood under her moving torso.

Her body suddenly stiffens, and her neatly trimmed nails dig into the edges of the table; around the crimson material of your cock, a hot, viscous membrane leach up the erect length. And you feel the same trickle down between your thighs, as a yelp erupts from your ex-wife and a scarlet fever haze slams every window in the house in a harmony of hollow beats that build on Wanda's scream.

With the enchantress panting and limp as a jelly, that was the confirmation that, in a cloud of pleasure, the woman reached her apex, melting into the erotic red haze that clouded her dark eyes. You, panting, get the toy out of her insides; the shiny liquid glistens around your cock, and Wanda squeals even feeling the sudden lack of you inside her.

The living room window is cracked. The table can disassemble at any second. Wanda's neck looks like a galaxy of bruises, and her waist and buttocks are groped with red handprints that aren't going away anytime soon. The crotch of your jeans is stained with your pleasure and hers. And then she looks over her shoulder at you, the two of you still panting like two ecstatic animals.

She looks deliciously worn and messy, and you feel a new sting dulling below your belly button as you realize just how much natural juices trickle out of Wanda's abused pussy.

“So,” you gasp, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face, “This…this is starting to become a thing, huh…?”

"Y-yeah..."

Your cum leaks out of her and drips onto the floor between your feet.

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

taglist: @diaryoflife, @iliketozoneout, @raqelacevedo, @wizardofstories, @wlwfanfictionss, @wandsmxmff, @whhyyynotttttt, @sayah13, @when-wolves-howl

i wrote porn lol

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thaylepo · 2 years ago

Note

omg omg, ok, a few things will need to be switched around vis a vis who has what personal relationships and who fills what role in the star wars narrative versus the animorphs narrative, BUT

Ok so the dual sides of the main conflict are easy. You have a powerful ruling body (the Senate) overthrown from within by a new faction (the Empire). The two powerful forces backing each side are directly mirrored as light and dark: the Jedi and the Sith. The same elements are all present in the initial setting of Animorphs: you have the good-guy Andalite forces and the bad-guy Yeerk Empire. It gets more complex later on, but this is how the series presented the setting for its main conflict.

Slide this into the SW universe: a Galactic Senate, backed by the considerable political power of the Andalites, is overthrown from within by a rogue faction backed by the newly emerged Yeerk Empire. The Sith and the Yeerks combine as a dual power -- not all controllers are Sith, but all Sith are controllers. Something something infestation combining a force-capable yeerk and a force capable host equals one super powerful entity. The Andalites are not a perfect stand-in for the Jedi, they fit more into the Ep. IV role of Alderaan and the Rebel forces, but it's not a huge jump to say this race of psychic deertaurs was possibly super over-represented among the ranks of a multi-race force of mystic space warriors. For a nearly wiped out semi-legendary race of incredibly force-sensitive beings who may have begun the Jedi order? We have the Pemalites. Crayak and the Ellimist could also fit into this theme of diametrically opposed forces of good/evil, light/dark, creation/destruction, etc. Perhaps as literal personifications of the Force itself? It's nearly impossible in this mashup to keep everything consistent from one universe versus the other, so we're throwing all the spaghetti at all the walls and seeing what sticks XD

How does the morphing power fit? Well, it easily can remain as: technology developed by the Rebellion (Andalites) to turn the tide of war, but how does turning into animals help in a setting where most of the major conflicts are fought in space, or with weapons and armies of ground troops? How does morphing translate into the SW setting as an allegory for the Force? I do not know. It could be that the Force, in this mixed universe, is more technologically based than spiritual: you need to be given it like the morphing power, but perhaps only "force sensitive" people can actually receive it.

Ep. IV: A New Hope follows the structure of the hero's journey, and roughly so does the first book of Animorphs, so that's a good place to start. As for the characters, that's the easy part..........

Tobias grows up in the boonies on Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. He's never known his father, but after finding an injured Andalite and a dog-shaped robot carrying a message from a beautiful golden haired princess, his friend the strange old blind woman who lives in the desert reveals that Tobias' father had been a Jedi who was murdered by the terrifying Yeerk warlord, Visser Three. Before he died though, Elfangor left a gift for his son that will change the course of his entire life........

Rachel was raised by the ruling family of Alderaan from a baby as a favour to her mother, a former Senator turned legal arbitrator. Her incredible intelligence, fighting prowess, political education, and ferocity in debate has made her a force to be reckoned with in the scene of galactic politics. She takes a leading role in the Rebellion at an astonishingly young age and she shows no sign of faltering. She certainly has no idea that a couple of her biological cousins are involved in the shady galactic underworld smuggling rings, and nor would she care; she needs to smuggle crucial information herself to the Rebel Forces herself, ironically. When her diplomatic ship is intercepted by Visser Three himself, Rachel doesn't miss a beat. There's only one person who can help her now.....

Jake may be a serious guy, unlike his best friend and huge hairy behemoth Marco, but he trying to do his best with what he's got. And what he's got is a fast ship, a quick mind, and an eye for getting out of trouble. He'll never be a leader like his older brother Tom, who governs his own city now, but he's content with his two-man operation and the life of a simple smuggler. This latest job they've taken, though, is a little out of the ordinary: ferry the entourage of an old blind lady and a wide-eyed country bumkin into the heart of Empire space. It wasn't even a very good offer, even with that pretty mechanic they hired, but for some reason he just hadn't been able to say no.......

Marco is not in the crime business for the money: he's in it for Jake. They've been best friends for almost their whole lives, ever since the human child stumbled upon a captive young Wookie and broke him out. He knows he'll outlive his friend by a couple centuries, but after he was captured and his mother killed, Jake has practically been his only family. They make a great team: Marco's wit and devastating good looks, along with Jake's stellar piloting skill. Marco wishes Jake were better at the people side of the business, though. He doesn't take to their new passengers, and while it's funny watching Jake try flirt with the first cute girl he's ever seemed tongue-tied by, Marco suspects the old woman and the sharp-faced, squinting desert boy are going to be way more trouble than they're worth......

Cassie is a natural with droids. Actually, if it runs, swims, crawls, flies, drives, hovers, or burrows underground, she has an uncanny knack for it. Creature or machine, she'll tend to whatever you bring her and give it back to you better than it's ever been. She's known Tobias for years but rarely sees him more than once every few months, so it's a surprise when he and the reclusive desert hermit known as Old Lo show up out of the blue with an injured Andalite and a dog-shaped robot she's never before seen the like of. Even more troubling, once the corrupted message is extracted from the robot ER-1K, Tobias and Lo intend to leave Tattooine and Cassie has a terrible bone-deep feeling they won't be coming back. It's the sight of the ship they hire that's the final straw: someone is going to have to come along and keep that smuggler's death trap in the sky.......

Aximili has lived his whole life in the shadow of a brother whom people rarely speak more than whispers about anymore. Elfangor had been one of the most powerful Jedi ever to exist, a hero of the Clone Wars, a larger-than-life figure impossible to live up to. But now the Jedi are eradicated, the Empire is in control of the galaxy, and Elfangor's name spoken only in hushed, reverent tones. Though Aximili had hardly known his brother, still young when he'd been killed, he doggedly tried to live up to his memory. His hard work and dedication had earned him a highly honoured place: the right hand assistant to the formidable Princess of Alderaan herself. But now, Princess Rachel is in the clutches of Visser Three himself, the Rebellion was losing ground, and Aximili can only think on his own monumental failures while he's crammed aboard a rusted spacecraft with a blind former Jedi, a backwater doctor-mechanic, two highly dubious criminal lowlifes, and Elfangor's own long lost son. This rescue mission already feels doomed, but it's the only hope they've got......

Long ago, in a galaxy far far away, six kids are the only thing standing in the way of an empire.......

Au idea: animorphs but star wars

I know other folks will have better ideas than I do. Any Animorphs and Star Wars fans out there willing to weigh in with thoughts?

#Yes i made Ax C3PO #Gorilla Marco = Wookie Marco #Which means visser one is also a wookie?#Look Marco and Jake are deffo Han and Chewy and it's just funnier to me if the suave devastatingly handsome rogue in this duo is the Wookie #Jake and Rachel are the long lost family reunited instead of Luke(Tobias) and Leia(Rachel)#Elfangor is Visser Three's host body instead of Alloran for obvious reasons #Loren gets to not have amnesia and being blind only makes her a more badass Jedi #Unfortunately in this plot Tobias may have to watch his ''father'' kill his mother without knowing either of them are his parents #......that's rough buddy at least they'll always be force ghosts #Cassie is a weird fit cuz she doesn't have a clear counterpart in SW IV but i think this role might suit her #Obvs she is also force sensitive like tobias that's just an obvious call #If you need your TaunTaun checked for worms before you have to use its corpse as a sleeping bag she's your gal #She also does robot work cuz it's Star Wars #...... Yoda is a Leeran #Erek is just vibing man he's juuuuuust vibing #Jabba the Hutt is perfection tho unchanged untouched except Rachel strangles his ass long before anyone gets her into the gold bikini #If anyone is going to wear the gold bikini it's gonna be Marco #Who at 6'2" is short for a Wookie btw #But his fur is glossy glossy black and the ladies love it XDD #Animorphs #Ok i'm done

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05aaphrodite · 4 years ago

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I can't let you escape, not even to your own world

Pairings:Yandere! Venti x reader

Warnings:4th wall breaking,Slight crack fic,Reader death

(Plz don't let my friends see this lmao)

______________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_______________

I chug all of my soda then slam it on the table "Aight, let's go farm for Venti's talent mats" I grabbed my controller then push the left joystick forward, after all of these grinding... I finally manage to get him on his rerun, I was skeptical that he would come home but surprisingly, I did a single pull then I got him, I'm grateful that I got my dream team, Xiao,Diluc,Venti,Bennett I will be saving for a Klee rerun.

My phone beeped a notification, I peek at it and it's my friend gc, I put down my controller then grab my phone

(A/n: Btw, the gc is based of my friend gc lol)

❀Genshin Gang❀

Diluc's hairtie

Y'ALL GUESS WHAT??

Albedo simp

OMGGGGGG CONGRATS BHIEEE

E_supremacy

CONGRATSSSSS

Xiao come home plz

I TOLD YA, YOU WILL GET HIM

Ventea

Hope all😭😭

VENTI CAME HOME

BROOOO CONGRATS OMG

ZHONGLI COME HOME

JK JK CONGRATS TOO

Diluc's hairtie

I was losing hope until I wished one more time😭

ZHONGLI COME HOME

CONGRATSSSS AGAIN, AND TO Y/N, BOTH OF YOU GOT VENTI

VENTI CAME HOME

THANKS PALL

E_supremacy

Now my Zhongli is happy :D

Diluc's hairtie

YESSES

A smile plastered on my face, I'm so happy for them! My attention was stolen when Venti decides to say his idle line "Come on Traveler, let's go! The world is full of lost ballads just waiting to be rediscovered." I put my phone down then grab my controller again "Ok ok, I will pay attention to you now" I chuckled humorously "Good! Just don't make me murder your friends."

The moment he said that line, my thumb suddenly stopped pushing the joystick, did he just..... did I just heard that right? Murder... your friends? What does he mean by that? Someone never mentioned this voiceline of his, I should check the character icon. I clicked on the character icon then proceed to his voicelines, I checked every details but I can't seem to find it, maybe it's a bug? The fact that I was talking to my friends.... maybe Mihoyo intended it?

I shrugged my shoulders then continue to the domain to farm for talent materials. After countless of grinding, I started to have fun with his wind current while harassing random hilichurls for fun, I made him sat at the Barbatos statue "You finally came home..." I smiled as I touch the screen, Venti looked at the camera then smiled "That's so cute! He smiles when he looks at at camera!" I awed, I continue to fawn over him.

⌣ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ⌣⌣ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ⌣

I woke up by the sound of my ps4 opening, the bright light illuminated my body, and to my surprise, my ps4 opened by itself "What the fuck?" I stood up from the bed then went to investigate it. The creepiest thing is that Venti is the only one in my party, and he is sitting at barbatos' hands, and then I remembered the hacked accounts in genshin, this could be a sign..

I hurriedly grab my controller then check my characters, all of them were Venti! I can't find a single character other than him! What's going on!? I check my weapons but they are okay, I checked my profile and nothing changed but my icon was set to Venti, i checked my primogems and fate but nothing changed, in fear of getting hacked, I contacted Mihoyo for customer support, I can't lose Xiao, I whaled for him! I restarted my ps4 then go back to sleep, in hopes that it will be resolved next morning.

I rubbed my eyes then stretch my arms wide, I look at my ps4 then my phone, I grab my phone then text on the gc

❀Genshin Gang❀

VENTI CAME HOME

Guyssss, something weird happened yesterday

ZHONGLI COME HOME

Why?

VENTI CAME HOME

My ps4 opened by itself and Venti was the only one in my party, I tried to change my party set back to normal but all of them were Venti

Albedo simp

Welp, sounds like a bug

But hey, freemogems :D

VENTI CAME HOME

My weapons and primogems were untouched but the weird thing is that my character icon is set to Venti, but I didn't change it

This is like a Ddlc reference lmaooo

Xiao come home plz

Aight, time to report to Mihoyo for free 600 primogems

E_supremacy

Be careful, maybe you're getting hacked? You should change your password incase

VENTI CAME HOME

Yep bro, I will change it

I put my phone down then open my ps4, I prayed to myself that everything is back to normal. Happiness washed over me when I saw that my original party is deployed "must've been a crazy bug.." I chuckled, I change my icon back to Xiao then continue with the grinding "Ooohhh timmie's birds" I smirked, I switched to Xiao then climb the nearest cliff, I glide then plunge on the birds "Free fowls!!" I exclaimed then claim the fowls, my character suddenly switched back to Venti, I didn't even press anything other than claim fowls "You know I'm getting impatient.." Venti said, again this was not even in his voice lines, then I notice that something is odd with my venti, he kept saying weird lines everytime my attention is drifted to somewhere else, could it be Mihoyo's doings? I hope so, I don't want a ddlc fiasco again.

After farming for his ascension materials, I quit genshin then read some fanfictions in Tumblr, I came across a Kaeya fanfic then proceed to read the contents. All of a sudden, my ps4's screen started to distort, my eyes widened at the sight of it, then a bright light surrounded me, making my head dizzy

"Traveler, you're awake" I woke up to a familiar voice reaching my ears, I blinked my eyes slowly to realize that I'm not in my room, where am I? My jaw dropped when the person I saw in my eyes is none other Venti, this is impossible! He's not real! "Venti...?" I tilt my head in confusion, there's no way this is real.... this must be a dream! The bard showed a genuine smile before putting down his lyre "I'm happy that you pulled for me, I will go crazy if you pulled for him instead, hehe." Venti had a patronizing smile after that, my eyes widened as I sat up "Venti? There's no way that you're real!" I said, feeling my empty pockets, Venti sighed as he stood up, he had his lyre in his hand "Come on Traveler, let's go celebrate the windblume festival." the God reached out his hand, I was reluctant to respond to his offer, he seems a bit suspicious to me, considering my ps4 sucked me in Teyvat. Not to mention, he said these weird lines when I was communicating with my friends, and my controller would move on its own when I'm playing another character "What are you waiting for?" A smile was om his lips, I took his hand then stood up "Ok, let's go." Venti giggled as he led me in Mondstadt, I gaze behind to see the Vennessa tree.

No way.... all of this seemed real... the designs.... the npcs.... all of them are accurate! The only difference is that I don't see control menu "Isn't it beautiful? Traveler?" Venti turned to me, I nodded with hesitant. As my eyes scanned the whole city, Fischl and Bennett were talking to each other, Kaeya,Rosaria, and Diluc at the same table, although Diluc seems poker faced, Barbara was performing for the crowd, Jean and Lisa are eating together, Albedo,Sucrose, and Timaeus are experimenting,Amber is seen gliding, everything seemed lively more than the actual game.... "Come on Traveler!" The bard took my hand without giving me time to consent.

The rustling sounds of the leaves snap me back to reality, it still feels like a dream, did Mihoyo said something about this? The atmosphere is so lively and different "Uh oh woahhh!! Watch out!" Amber then crashed into Noelle, I giggled slightly then turn to the bard who was playing the lyre for a small crowd, as the sweet melodious tone halt to stop, the crowd clapped their hands, I smiled a little bit as I made my way towards him "Did you like it?" Venti inquired, I nodded then smiled, the bard chuckled as he took my hand then led me somewhere.

I realized we were getting far away from the festival, perturbation washed over me "Venti.... where are we going?" sweat dropped on my temples, Venti looked at me with a menacing smile "Somewhere..."

He led me to starsnatch cliff, the breeze of the wind soothes my nostrils, I can't believe all of these are real.... Venti picked a Cecilia flower then hand it to me, I narrowed my eyes "Are you really.... real?" I gaze at his eyes

"I'm aware that all of us are just video game characters, that's why I'm a God"

My eyes widened as he said that, he tucked the cecilia behind my ear "Y/n, will you stay here forever..?" The bard took both of my hands, his puppy eyes gleaming, I do want to visit Genshin.... but that does not mean I will abandon my world

"Venti.... I have my friends and family there..." I said, I averted my gaze to the floor, his grip on me got tighter "Y/n, your world does not need you" his tone was a mix of devastate and anger "All you need is me, you belong here"

My eyebrows furrowed, what does he mean by that!? "No! I can't just leave everyone! My friends care about me!" I screamed in frustration. He then uses his anemo powers on me that sent me flying through the air "Arghh! Let me go!!" I desperately try to break free

"Don't you see that I love you? I don't like it when you control me everyday" Venti was feigning sadness on his tone

"Because you're never real!" I retorted back, a grin was marked on his face "I ever regret pulling for you!" I yelled. The bard went closer then cup my cheeks "So? You already got me, you did this to yourself" then his hands swayed, causing me to fall of the cliff, my life flashed before me, this is it....

"May your soul rest in this game"

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ltamoviesblog · 2 years ago

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Halloween Ends (2022) Movie Review

Since this is my first review on this account, I feel like I should clarify that I am not only a passionate horror fan, but I am also a longtime fan of the Halloween series. I credit it, along with Scream, for getting me into horror at a young age. That being said, I haven't loved the recent entries in the series. Halloween (2018) is a mixed bag for me, and Halloween Kills had its moments, but was anchored by a terrible, misguided script. So, I didn't know what to think about Halloween Ends going in.

Before I get into spoilers, I'll give my quick spoiler free thoughts on the movie. Ultimately, it's a movie with interesting, big ideas that the execution can't live up to. I thought the first act was enjoyable. Laurie is at her best since H20. The idea behind the new character, Corey Cunningham, and where they go with him is interesting, but the script is very weak. Not only are most plot points contrived, but the dialogue does the movie no favors. There are also too many things left unexplained. Then, the final battle was ultimately underwhelming, especially compared to previous versions in the series. It's a movie I wanted to love, but it's just not written well enough to carry the big ideas.

Grade: C+

Now... on to the spoilers

SPOILER WARNING

What a weird little movie this turned out to be. A lot of the buzz that I heard going in was that Ends takes a lot of big swings, and the story was something very different than expected. That's absolutely correct, and I really respect the boldness that David Gordon Green and company showed. I actually really enjoyed the first act of this movie. The opening scene was a shocking, effective subversion of expectations. It highlighted DGG's strengths as a director with wonderful use of shadows and the layout of the house with that high, winding staircase. It was capped off with one of the more shocking scenes of the year with the kid falling to his death in brutal fashion. I appreciated them not shying away from showing it while also not showing too much to the point of gratuity. This opening ended up being one of my favorite scenes in this new series, and it set up the story and Corey's character very well.

The opening leads us into setting up Corey as well as catching us up with Laurie and Allyson after the 4 year time jump from Kills, which is the strongest part of the film. I haven't been a fan of the portrayal of Laurie in the new films, but this is Jamie Lee Curtis's strongest outing as the character since H20. She gets to forego a lot of the trauma that has plagued Laurie in the sequels and allows her to be happy, which is nice to see. One of the standout scenes is Laurie flirting with Deputy Hawkins in a grocery store. It's a sweet, innocent scene that we don't get to see much from Laurie in this series. This romance angle is mirrored with Corey and Allyson, and again, I was really enjoying it. Andi Matichek and Rohan Campbell had great chemistry, and the initial setup was sweet as the two relate over the trauma they've both encountered. However, this is indeed a horror movie, which means things go wrong, and this is where the movie itself goes wrong.

The turning point of the movie happens after the scene at a halloween party in a bar, which leads to one of the more contrived, ridiculous scenes of the year. Corey just happened to be at a bar where the mom of the kid he killed was. This caused him to leave after fighting with Allyson and walk across a bridge where his bullies just happen to drive by and see him. Then, they just happen to throw him over the bridge where Michael's new sewer pipe home is and Michael can drag him in it. This is, of course, when Michael supposedly transfers his evil into Corey? Or awakens the evil in Corey? What exactly happens?

Ok, let's break this scene down a bit more. First off, the bullies are the worst part of the movie. I'm generally not a fan of movie bullies. They're usually over the top and unrealistic, which is the issue here. Also, the fact that they are high school kids beating up on a 24 year old man is hilarious and unbelievable. It's also one of those issues that could've been easily avoided. Some people may not have an issue with it, but it's laughable to me. Next, you're telling me that Michael Myers has just been living in a pipe for four years? What has he been doing? How is he alive? The movie seems to insinuate that Michael is weak after the ending of Kills and can regain strength from killing, but he ended Kills with killing a bunch of people? Also, if he needs to kill for strength, what's he doing living in the pipe? Why doesn't he kill the homeless people that are around there enough to know Michael is there? Then, what exactly happens to Corey? Michael grabs him, stares into his eyes, and then Corey is ready to kill. I understand the point the movie is trying to make about evil transcending and the hold it has blah blah blah. Just because something has a reason doesn't mean it makes sense, and none of this makes sense.

Then, there are two key scenes that take us to our finale. First, Corey brings Allyson's ex to Michael in the pipe so that Michael can kill him. Then, Michael and Corey kill Allyson's boss and co-worker together. On their own, these are pretty effective scenes. DGG knows how to direct Michael and James Jude Courtney is great in the role, but again, they make no sense. Why does Michael team up with Corey? If Michael gets strength from killing, why doesn't he just kill Corey? Why does Corey turn on Michael to become him?

While all of this is happening, Allyson's relationship with Corey is blooming while Laurie is growing suspicious of Corey. Allyson's relationship with Corey started out very sweet, but they ultimately rush through it. They go from first date to being in love and ready to run away together in a matter of days. This is a pet peeve of mine in general with films, and this is no exception. It just doesn't feel real or believable. It could've worked if more time passed. The Laurie scenes with her investigating Corey are fine. I would rather have seen her with Will Patton, but I get why she's investigating Corey. This all leads to the third act where Corey takes the mask from Michael (I won't even comment on it) and goes on his killing spree. Much like the previous scenes, this whole bit works together on its own. The kills are solid, especially the DJ and blowtorch kills. DGG's direction shines when Michael (or Corey) is doing his thing.

Then this leads to the ultimate finale in Laurie's house. Corey's end felt anticlimactic to me. Stabbing himself in the neck so... nobody can have Allyson? Ok. To me, a more effective ending would have been the evil truly taking him over with him killing or attempting to kill Allyson, but whatever. The real finale comes with the epic showdown between Michael and Laurie... *sigh*. Don't get me wrong. It's not bad. It's just we've seen it done better in at least two previous movies with H20 and 2018. I do appreciate the ballsiness of definitively killing Michael, which leads me to another big issue. Michael shouldn't have been in this movie. I love some Mikey Myers, especially portrayed by JJC, but he's weighing this movie down. I like the Corey story and idea of portraying evil as more than Michael, but it's hard to fully realize that when you still have to cater to Michael. Michael should've died in Kills and this movie could've been focused on Corey.

Oh well, this is what we got. I don't hate Halloween Ends by any means. I actually like a good bit of it, especially the first act. I like a lot of the ideas and attempts at doing something different in the 13th film in the series. I just can't help but come away disappointed in the execution. I feel like they could've done so much with just a few more passes at the script to help settle and make more sense of things. Halloween Ends is a movie I want to love because I love what it's trying to do, but ultimately, it's an uneven but admirable attempt at ending this iconic franchise.

#halloween #horror #film #michael myers #laurie strode #halloween ends

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betawooper · 4 years ago

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rating every demon fight in kny bc i can

non-biased, completely objective rating (more or less) of every significant demon fight in kny based on a number of factors, including:

cleverness of fighting tactics

placement in the story’s timeline

integration of character backstories

cohesive themes between characters

etc

by non-biased and objective i mean i’m not skewing the rating if a death felt fair or whatever

everything past where the anime ended will be under a read more so anime onlys who havent watched mugen train, youre safe lol

oh and i reread the manga like 20+ times (reread the latter arcs at least 40 times, haha hyperfixations am i right?) so be rest assured im not pulling these ratings out of my ass

also ill randomly be bolding certain phrases just to improve readability

anyways let’s gooooo

VS NEZUKO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and Nezuko. Tanjirou is fending her off by putting the axe handle in her mouth, keeping her from eating him. End Image Description.]

10/10

i like how realistic it is, because yeah tanjirou would react the way to he did with zero fighting skills against a demon

very clear why tanjirou is fighting nezuko and shows a bit of worldbuilding on how normal people react to their family becoming demons

always nice to see worldbuilding

giyuu is the perfect example of a seasoned demon slayer who’s good at his job, and he juxtaposes tanjirou very well in that aspect

my only complaint is not directly in this fight itself but how nezuko is handled throughout the story as a whole

like bro, it is literally never explained why nezuko is different from demons

could have been easily explained if maybe her family’s ghosts like slapped her hand every time she wanted to eat a person but nope

she’s just built different lol

so yeah youll see future ratings get points docked off bc nezuko unlocks some secret power with no prior explanation other than she angy >:3

VS TEMPLE DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a demon. The demon has a sharp-nailed hand over his neck and there are four text bubbles around him saying “But a wound like this... will heal in no time! See? The bleeding already stopped!” End Image Description.]

10/10

may be more forgettable compared to like rui but still good

tanjirou did exceptionally well in this fight and his ability to think on his feet is once again beautifully illustrated here (trapping this dude’s head against the tree trunk with the axe)

very clever

again, establishes more demon worldbuilding regarding regeneration and still being able to move without their head

and the demons burning in the sunlight thing since nezuko wasn’t able to show that

the ending where tanjirou hesitates to kill the demon also serves to show his sympathetic nature towards demons that will last throughout the entirety of the first 60-ish chapters

we’ll talk about what the hell happens to tanjirou after that

or not, it could honestly be its own post

VS HAND DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a many-handed demon. He has six hands around him, three of them covering his mouth while he chuckles, two of them grabbing his cheeks, and one holding on to the top of his head. There are two text bubbles saying “That’s how many of Urokodaki’s students I have eaten! I’ve decided to kill all of his students!” End Image Description.]

10/10

ooooh probably the first big fight against a demon in the series

oh yeah not doing the two random demons tanjirou one shot in a single blow bc eh

anyways hand demon’s pretty goddamn scary, considering the fact that this is the 5th demon or whatever tanjirou has had to face so far

very nice way to show us how much tanjirou’s innate intuition and all his other random abilities (sense of smell, hard forehead) can come together and help him decapitate this guy

i liked the mini history with urokodaki this dude had and why he had beef with our favorite mentor figure, it establishes that urokodaki was in fact a super good demon slayer and its cool to see that actually shown

i also liked that small moment of compassion tanjirou gave this demon, staying consistent with tanjirou’s established kindness

the demon’s sad tale with killing his own brother very much humanizes him when all the reader has seen up to this point is that this guy is a monster who eats people

sets up the theme of demons just being humans but being victims of circumstance that unfortunately doesn’t hold up as well in arcs past mugen train

VS SWAMP DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou fighting off three horned demons as they appear from below. There is a spiky text bubble saying “Three of them!!!” End Image Description.]

10/10

not my most favorite fight but it still portrays everything alright and im not allowed to let my personal opinions mess with the rating so

i like how tanjirou mentioned the fact that he trained in conditions similar to the bog and explains how he pulled off the whirlpool form

using past experiences to aid him in the present, nice nice

tanjirou and nezuko dont quite work together very well but its yknow the first mission so ill chalk it up to simple inexperience

also the way the muzan curse thingie was hinted at here? fantastic way of showing that little bit of demon worldbuilding

...

oh god, it mentions nezuko being stronger than normal demons

ok its not a problem here per say since i can still suspend my disbelief, but later on it just becomes a glaring problem that gets worse over time

VS SUSAMARU AND YAHABA

[Image Description: Manga panels of Susamaru and Yahaba. The first one is a joyful Susamaru about to throw a temari ball. There is floating text saying “Is she one of Kibutsuji’s minions?!” The second image is an annoyed Yahaba, holding one of his eye-hands to cover himself. There are two text bubbles around him saying “My kimono got all dusty. Tch!” End Image Description.]

9/10

why dont these bitches have a good looking panel together dammit

anyways amazing entrance, the way yahaba used his hand eyes to track down tanjirou is really neat

the synergy yahaba and susamaru have is incredible, its awesome dude, they work extremely well together and it shows

tanjirou actually mixing his water breathing forms together is a god tier move and i absolutely love how he can show off his ability to think on his feet once again

establishing how yushiro’s bda works early on is really well done

establishing tamayo as a fugitive this early on is also super well done

not to get into spoiler territory but both these things pay off

how tamayo ended up defeating susamaru is literally awesome in so many ways

shows off both how smart she is by exploiting the muzan curse

and speaking of the muzan curse, we actually get to see what happens to demons who even say his name, back when it was hinted with the swamp demon

tamayo is amazing dude, and we get some real evidence of the horrible suffering demons go through if they even accidentally attempt to betray muzan :D

...

now heres what keeps this fight from being perfect

nezuko somehow grew stronger against susamaru’s temari

with no explanation

which could have been easily explained if tamayo was like “oh yeah the drug also boosts a demon’s strength temporarily”

but nope

god, i just dont like how gotouge handles nezuko’s power boosts throughout the series bc like i said before

no explanation is given anywhere

this is a huge issue, this isnt a pokemon game, you cant just kill demons and get exp at the end of every battle, level up, get some sweet stat bonuses and move on

(actually if gotouge established that this is how nezuko grew in power, than all my complaints about this would be gone, im not even joking)

anyways i get that nezuko is supposed to be “special” but thats too vague of a descriptor

how the hell is she special? ya gotta be more specific and stick with that explanation or that suspension of disbelief is going to disappear

VS TONGUE DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a four-eyed demon with horns and a long tongue. He is crawling in an awkward position, one foot in front of his tilted head. There are two text bubbles around him saying “Heh, heh! I’ll slurpy slurp your brains out through you ear!” End Image Description.]

10/10

not much to say, showcases zenitsu’s true abilities really well

nicely done

VS HORNED DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of a big, single-horned demon. There are three text bubbles saying “You dodged! You’re awfully lively for a human! It’ll be a treat to carve away your flesh!” End Image Description.]

10/10

would have ignored this fight if not for the fact we havent seen inosuke fight before

it definitely shows how very fast-paced and wild inosuke is

no complaints here lol

VS KYOGAI

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kyogai, a demon with tsuzumi drums attached to his shoulders. There are four text bubbles around him saying “Why?! Why does everyone keep sneaking through my house? It’s so aggravating. It’s my prey! It’s my prey! Found in my territory!” End Image Description.]

10/10

establishes marechi blood pretty early on, once again expanding the worldbuilding of kny which is always cool

interesting terrain where it’s always shifting, tanjirou once again proves his ability to adapt really quickly by altering one of his forms to work with the turning room

(man, i wish the form mixing/form modification thing carried on throughout the rest of the story, but it really didnt which is just a shame)

the injuries tanjirou had prior to this mission actually affecting him was a nice touch

oh yeah, kyogai gives us more worldbuilding (which is always nice) regarding the 12 kizuki, and the aspect of him being cast out due to being weak shows a lot about muzan’s indifference towards his own demons if they arent strong

his backstory being a failed writer once again humanizes kyogai as a former human being and not just a monster

tanjirou shows his sympathy and compassion again by not stepping on his written work and complimenting his bda

well, tbh tanjirou’s actions kinda came out of nowhere but its a very minor thing and not enough to dock a point off, like it didnt affect the outcome of the fight that much if at all

(so if you see future battles where points are docked off for things not logically making sense, its bc whatever nonsensical concepts were integrated into the fight actually turned the tide of the battle and thats a big no-no)

very good fight and if you remember how kinda bad tanjirou was at accurately slicing the swamp demon, you can see that he’s already improved leaps and bounds

im so proud of him

VS MOTHER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and the Mother Spider Demon. There is a light shining down from the top right on to the demon as Tanjirou slices her head off, rain following in his wake. There is floating text saying “Water Breathing: Fifth Form - Blessed Rain After the Drought!” around them. End Image Description.]

10/10

i mean does anyone disagree?

all the demon slayers getting their necks snapped by her threads was pretty horrific, probably more horrifying than anything else we have seen in the entire series if im gonna be honest

the death scene is probably the most beautiful one in the series

it reveals a water breathing form that we havent seen before thats the 5th form

as far as i know, no other breathing style has this merciful sword stroke so it shows a lot about the original water breather and what they might have been like

but enough about them, really the focus is on tanjirou bc this is like the best example by far of how kind and sympathetic he is to demons

dunno what else to say, its perfect

VS SON SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Agatsuma Zenitsu performing Thunder Breathing 1st Form: Sixfold on a spider-like demon. Zenitsu is crashing through the roof of a shed, and a zig-zag path is left behind. There are sound effects all over the panel, saying “Bam!” in large font. End Image Description.]

10/10

chose a picture without a huge spider on it bc i would like to not scare myself half to death

anyways extremely amazing fight, showcases zenitsu’s immense talent and skill, adapting the 1st form of thunder breathing to be a more versatile move

theres a moment where his backstory with kuwajima and kaigaku were revealed and his hidden insecurities are out in the open which is super nice and further develops a character weve only considered as comedic relief until now

the anime made the backstory scenes and the killing scene so much cooler

while there is no thematic connection between zenitsu and the demon, it really isnt necessary to keep this fight interesting

anyways another pretty much perfect fight

VS FATHER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kamado Tanjirou and Inosuke slashing at the Father Spider Demon. The demon has blocked Tanjirou’s sword with his arm, and Inosuke is slamming both his blades down on the demon’s other hand. End Image Description.]

10/10

again, not my most favorite fight but it does everything right

i do have to say it was excellent how gotouge hyped up the father spider demon to be the big bad, only just so the plot twist later takes the readers by surprise

nicely done

VS DAUGHTER SPIDER DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kochou Shinobu and the Daughter Spider Demon. Shinobu’s back is seen and her haori looks like a butterfly’s wings keeping her afloat as she holds her stinger blade out to the side. The demon looks surprised as blood gushes from her side, arm, shoulder, chest, neck, and forehead. There is floating text on the panel, saying “Insect Breathing - Butterfly Dance - Caprice!” End Image Description.]

10/10

first time weve seen shinobu and her fighting style

what i love most about this is how much it shows her true character, appearing as a carefree and naive individual so she seems underwhelming

then bam, reveals exactly how dangerous and uncaring she is of demons, listing out the specific ways she would torture the daughter spider demon in grotesque detail

her using poison to take demons by surprise is also super clever and brings back the worldbuilding established way earlier about wisteria being poisonous to demons

amazing integration of that concept

anyways this fight really encapsulates who shinobu is as a character and thats why it gets a perfect score

VS RUI

[Image Description: Manga panel of Rui holding his hand out directly towards the viewer. There are two text bubbles around him, saying “Give me your sister. If you hand her over quietly, I’ll spare your life.” End Image Description.]

8/10

not only is it a super scary fight but there is a deeper conflict between rui and tanjirou, what it means to be family

they are opposites in the sense that while tanjirou believes love is what makes a family, rui’s subconscious desperation for an unbreakable bond drives him to use fear to keep his “family” together

excellent juxtaposition of their values, and this is only further emphasized when rui expresses out loud what he was going to do to nezuko

i also like the symbolism regarding rui’s bda, how he uses threads or the “familial” bonds to cut up his fake family with it if they act out of turn or annoy him

super neat detail

alright what i dont like about this fight is nezuko (again)

mostly her unlocking her bda to turn the tide of the battle bc her mom was like “yo, wake up, your brother is going to be killed”

feels... forced ig

her bda in general is confusing and not consistent

man, i wish i could make a stronger argument for this but i do believe the problem stems from the fact that we dont ever know what nezuko is thinking, and what she thinks of tanjirou specifically

if she even cares for him as a sibling or if shes only going along with what her family is saying to her, things like that which would have been fixed if gotouge actually gave her thoughts some screen time

so the action feels pretty shallow

im also conflicted over tanjirou somehow remembering how dance of the fire god works

on one hand, hes using past information and applying it in the current setting so he doesnt die, which is understandable

but on the other hand, this was a teeny bit random?

i think what could have fixed this is if there was a scene in the beginning of the series where tanjirou was performing it himself, like practicing before he actually had to do it for new years

so that when the rui fight rolls around, it would have felt less like throwing dry spaghetti at a wall

but yeah

overall super good fight, giyuu ending up having to kill rui instead of tanjirou was super good in that tanjirou didnt become a pillar this early in the series and to show how strong giyuu is

there are some odd bits regarding the ultimate “beheading” of rui using nezuko and tanjirous supposed bonds but it doesnt kill the fight entirely so it deserves its pretty high score

***under read more is manga-only fights so beware***

VS ENMU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Enmu holding his hand out directly at the viewer, with a mouth on the back of it. There is floating text to the top right of Enmu that says “Whispers of Forced Unconscious Hypnosis!” End Image Description.]

9/10

id say this fight is definitely overshadowed by the dream stuff prior to this but its pretty good in its own right

enmu fusing with the train was kinda confusing, like when was it established that demons could fuse with objects?

this worldbuilding element doesnt even appear again so yeah thats why it loses a point

how the kmbk gang end up defeating enmu is pretty sweet though, tanjirou using dance of the fire god to sever the neck bone was really nice and shows that him using the breathing style in the rui fight wasnt a one time thing

while kyojuro’s role was smaller in this part, the next part makes up for it so i cant complain

anyways ye, almost perfect score but its pretty good

VS AKAZA (MUGEN TRAIN)

[Image Description: Manga panel of Akaza holding his hand out to the viewer’s left. There is a text bubble saying “Why don’t you become a demon?” End Image Description.]

10/10

this encounter is literally amazing okay?

after the crew kills the big bad, it seems like everything is fine

but plot twist, upper moon 3 appears out of nowhere

this is the first time the reader has seen an upper moon, let alone the 3rd/4th strongest demon in existence and the way gotouge handled this twist is fucking amazing

kyojuro’s death scene really shows just how human even the strongest pillars are against demons with incredible power

its just

amazing

VS OBI DEMON

[Image Description: Manga panels of the obi-like demon. The first image shows the obi hung in the air and strung over each other like decorations, with women-shaped patterns in its folds. The second image is Hashibira Inosuke fighting the Obi demon which now has lips and eyes. There is floating text in that panel saying “Breath of the Beast: Sixth Fang - Jagged Gnaw!!” End Image Description.]

10/10

on to red light district

this fight is admittedly super forgettable and not very interesting at least compared to the main fight with daki and gyutaro

but it wraps up the sub plot of the women and uzui’s wives going missing so it gets a perfect score for not messing that up

oh and it establishes the stretchy neck thing daki has going on which is very good

VS DAKI AND GYUTARO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Daki and Gyutaro. Daki is sitting on Gyutaro’s shoulders. There is a text bubble on the top right that says “The two of us are one, after all.” as well as floating text that reads “The power of the irregular siblings...!? Next issue lead color and the fight reaches its climax!!” End Image Description.]

8/10

love how this battle challenges tanjirou’s sympathy and kindness towards demons, just simply bc daki and gyutaro are horrible people

(too bad nothing came of this, which ill explain in the hantengu portion)

daki and gyutaro are very good villains and kept this fight super interesting from start to finish

uzui acting as a foil to gyutaro is nicely integrated and properly shown with how jealous gyutaro gets over seeing uzui’s perfect form and stature

tanjirou not only mixes forms but mixes breathing styles as well, which is so fucking awesome

(too bad it was only used like once throughout the entire series, its quite unfortunate)

the super high tension right after inosuke gets stabbed and tanjirou wakes up was expertly portrayed and handled, it felt like the kmbk gang and uzui were actually going to lose

super awesome

the tanjirou and gyutaro parallels are expertly portrayed, with how gyutaro taunts tanjirou over failing to protect his little sister, and the more visual thing where tanjirou imagined his own neck underneath his blade, that was super duper nice

the ending is extremely tense and emotionally gripping, gotouge did a really good job with that artistically too

the demon mark acquisition scene was surprisingly not frustrating, considering that it wasnt really explained prior to the battle

i do think it has to do with how it was explained later just exactly how they worked so its not just some random thing gotouge pulled out of their ass

so pretty good

what i dont like is nezuko and her full power demon form

first of all where the fuck did that come from? she just got angry and suddenly shes as powerful as an upper moon

how?

that doesnt make sense???

her extremely quick regeneration makes no sense

her ability to manipulate her blood’s properties makes no sense

and it doesnt even appear again so what was the point of that existing

none of this is even explained later which annoys me

that one part where tanjirou sings a lullaby to her to calm her down was alright ig but nezuko in this fight makes me extremely irritated and frustrated

just ugh

VS HANTENGU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Hantengu opening a shoji door. He is crawling inside, his hand in a gnarled, unnatural position. There is a text bubble saying “Eeeeeeek.” End Image Description.]

1/10

swordsmith village

this fight can go fuck itself /j

no but seriously it has so many problems that it would be shorter to name its redeeming qualities (which ill do later)

first off, the nezuko full power form thing again

i hate it so much with a passion

again, where did her ability to regenerate instantly even come from???? this is never explained, ever

and why did she cut herself on tanjirou’s sword anyway

did she somehow know that it was going to turn red if she burned it?

gotouge what the fuck, there is literally no reason why nezuko would do that and we cant even read her mind to see her thought process

gotouge hates nezuko, i swear

remember when i said uzui is meant to be a foil to gyutaro in the rld fight? its pretty obvious that those two are opposites, it was nicely done

... what the hell does mitsuri’s insecurities about strength have to do with whatever the fuck hantengu has going on (which is basically nothing)?

so no meaningful connection between mitsuri and hantengu

theres no meaningful connection between tanjirou and hantengu other than tanjirou getting pissed off for like the second time

also tanjirou’s thing with being kind and sympathetic to demons was entirely dropped at this point

but instead of it leading up to a corruption arc of some sorts, it just doesnt

like honestly if something actually came of that anger he exhibited in this arc and from red light district from this point forward story-wise, i would have counted this as an amazing writing decision

but it literally doesnt so who cares

(god, i really start to hate what happened to his character after this )

and genya’s revealed motivation also doesnt fit at all with hantengu’s thing, he’s not a foil, not a parallel, nothing, there is nothing

tanjirou being the catharsis for development for mitsuri and muichirou, who he has only talked to like twice

theres definitely a better way to handle those two’s developments without his help

like gotouge, you have a big cast of characters, use them lol

i want to kick hantengu in the face for being boring as fuck (at least his clones have cool looking weapons)

doesnt even have a proper backstory, just a single spread of him being blamed for shit as a human

like... thats it? this is upper moon 4 what the hell

theres no clever form mixing here at all (regarding tanjirou) which probably would have helped with foreshadowing the 13th form for dance of the fire god/sun breathing better

also gotouge established that as tanjirou’s thing and now he doesnt do that stuff anymore which sucks

oh hey remember when tanjirou actually learned how to do zenitsu’s speed boost thing?

if you didnt, i dont blame you bc it literally doesnt appear again, ever

you could argue that he adapted it into his “waltz flash” technique or whatever the fuck that is but the way it was integrated into this fight was like throwing dry spaghetti at a wall

which is just a shame bc its meant to be representative of how tanjirou and zenitsu are good pals but the way it was utilized is forgettable as hell

i absolutely loathe the crimson blade concept as a whole and im mentioning this now bc its going to come into play why future instances where this goddamn thing comes up again causes points to be lost

its inconsistent as fuck ill tell you that

at least some yoriichi stuff appeared here and not shoved into the final battle with everything else

so the yoriichi stuff later didnt come out of absolute nowhere

genya and mitsuri’s unique fighting styles expand the kny worldbuilding just a little more which is always nice

tanjirou got a cool sword out of this which would have been cooler if him and yoriichi had a deeper connection that was actually explored

but we didnt get shit so whatever

other people getting demon marks being revealed here is also okay so that again, the final battle isnt filled with absolutely everyone getting their marks at once

demon marks have their own slew of problems but its not as bad as the fucking crimson sword shit

god i hate the crimson sword shit

...

dude this section needs a tldr, even i cant sit and read through my shit

TL;DR - this fight sucks and crimson swords are bullshit (more on this later)

VS GYOKKO

[Image Description: Manga panel of Tokitou Muichirou and Gyokko. Muichirou is looking to the left while Gyokko is looking to the right, both with their backs to each other. There are mist clouds billowing in the foreground and background, as well as a slash mark going across Gyokko’s neck. End Image Description.]

7/10

this fight suffers from the same lack of cohesive themes through characters like the hantengu battle bc the antagonist is given nothing

but its better

we havent actually seen mui fight before so theres no consistencies that the reader has to keep track of for now

and there arent like 10 characters in the fight so this fight gets a lot of points just for being a lot more coherent

i do like that this fight shows just how good mui is that he can defeat an upper moon by himself

mui’s backstory is neat

gyokko’s bda is very interesting too

... thats pretty much it lol

ye, anyways not the best fight but not the worst fight either

VS KAIGAKU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kaigaku holding the hilt of his blade with one hand. There is two text bubbles around him, saying “...As usual, you’re still shabby. It’s been a while, Zenitsu.” End Image Description.]

9/10

alright on to final battle arc

theres some good fights and then some really sucky ones, but this one was pretty incredible and very emotionally charged

theres a clear reason why zenitsu and kaigaku are battling each other (kai betrayed the corps and inadvertantly caused the only parental figure in zenitsu’s life to die, and zenitsu is rightfully pissed off about that)

the visual yin-yang symbolism is awesome too

zenitsu winning due to using the 7th form he created himself (which i have reason to believe was inspired by tanjirou) was the perfect ending to the fight, really couldnt ask for anything better and is a perfect example of how much of an effect tanjirou has had on zenitsu

the 7th form is what tanjirou’s waltz flash should have been lol

what keeps this fight from being absolutely perfect is lack of development prior to this conflict

(since the final battle arc is basically a culmination of all the hinted developments through the series, im going to actually factor in how much and how well these conflicts were foreshadowed)

anyways if we had actually seen zenitsu, kaigaku, and kuwajima actually interacting with each other and showing how they were essentially a family (not just through flashbacks), it would have made zenitsu placing the responsibility of killing kai onto himself a lot more tragic

but like, apart from brief flashbacks where zenitsu actually met kaigaku off screen and that one thing all the way back in natagumo where both kuwajima and kai were introduced, thats pretty much it in terms of thunder family development

so yeah its underdeveloped for sure

also one random thought, i personally think zenitsu should have gotten his demon mark in this fight, it would have been cool to see

VS AKAZA (INFINITY FORTRESS)

[Image Description: Manga panel of Akaza’s face. There are two text bubbles around him, saying “Okay, let’s get started. It’s time for the feast.” There is also floating text saying “The inspection of the strong has begun...” as well as a simple box on the lower left, denoting its the end of chapter 147. End Image Description.]

6/10

oh god please dont hate me for this

ill list the good things first how about that

this conflict was foreshadowed perfectly in mugen train, you bet the readers were expecting a tanjirou vs akaza battle after the death of kyojuro and gotouge delivered

akaza’s power is shown extremely well with how many close calls tanjirou and giyuu had while fighting him

akaza eventually giving up on his own volition was really nice and fit into the context of the battle very very well, like sure tanjirou and giyuu wouldnt understand why he gave up but us readers do know

akaza is a really good character and a good villain

now notice how im only mentioning akaza and not giyuu or tanjirou in the good aspects

bc those two are eh

no form mixing at all from either tanjirou and giyuu

i know i said form mixing was kind of tanjirou’s thing but you’d think giyuu would have gotten more creative with his moves once akaza said that he was getting predictable

(well he said he “ran out of water breathing forms” but same thing)

so its kinda bland lol

speaking of giyuu, his whole thing with his insecurities of being weak wasnt handled well (it was sort of immediately brushed off in pillar training, and its unclear what part of his character arc he was in)

like sure him announcing that he’s going to protect tanjirou is cool but it feels like he was haphazardly dropped into the tanjirou and akaza conflict

isnt he supposed to be both their foils? that wasnt really explored that well in this fight and theres no deep meaning behind him even being here just analyzing what he did in it

he could have been handled better or even given more focus is what im saying

the anatta state came out of nowhere, im sorry okay? just bc inosuke like barely hinted at not being able to sense grandma hisa bc she had no fighting spirit and tanjurou magically taught his son how to achieve this state doesnt mean it was properly integrated into the fight

if the anatta state was actually explored prior to this battle, i would have given it a pass but it just feels like a cheap and poorly developed trick to get around akaza’s technique development (which is overpowered as fuck might i add)

gotouge should have just given akaza a plausible weakness to his technique development instead, especially since they dont use or even mention the anatta state after this

the transparent world shit makes no sense but ill elaborate on that in the koku battle analysis

oh and this thing doesnt affect the score but why wasnt there a “yoriichi visage overlapping” moment when tanjirou was fighting akaza? hes an upper moon, he should have gotten those visions but he didnt

for some reason

anyways this battle was alright and has good set up but the middle and end parts didnt hold up as well bc random concepts were thrown at us without prior explanation or development

VS DOUMA

[Image Description: Manga panel of Douma licking Shinobu’s butterfly pin. There are two text bubbles around him saying “Anyway, tonight is a good night. Such fine feasts keep showing up one after another.” End Image Description.]

9/10

damn, such an amazing fight

the build up to this was properly foreshadowed

shinobu finally showing her true anger after hiding it for so long is amazing

douma is a super interesting character and fantastic villain

shinobu showing off her true power and determination against douma was sooooo nice

shinobu’s poisonous body plan is so clever and so interesting

if i was to rate the shinobu part of the fight alone, it would have gotten a 10/10 no question

the reason why its knocked down a point is because of the kanao and inosuke part

dont get me wrong, the way kanao is able to hold her own against douma by herself is pretty cool, how shes meant to parallel douma with their similar struggles surrounding human emotions and demonstrate how she has grown as a person, how she regains the ability to cry

that shit is cool, inosuke also getting in touch with his emotions after learning what happened to his mom was super neat as well

however

bc this battle takes place in the final arc with everything else, there wasnt proper build up regarding many things, the kotoha reveal especially

so inosuke feels kinda forced into the kanao shinobu and douma conflict, similar to how giyuu felt forced into the tanjirou and akaza conflict

its quite unfortunate bc if the kotoha stuff was actually explored prior to the confrontation, this “forced” feeling would have disappeared

i know some people have suggested that the douma fight should have just been its own arc, and i very much agree, it would have certainly helped fix this problem regarding inosuke and kotoha

last random thought, i wish shinobu, kanao, and inosuke got their demon marks

VS KOKUSHIBOU

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kokushibou looking directly at the viewer, holding the hilt of his blade as if he’s going to pull it out. There are text boxes around him saying “This... is Upper Moon One... He’s so different compared to the other Upper Moons. He looks so dignified and majestic.” The text boxes are narrated by Tokitou Muichirou. End Image Description.]

5/10

this fight is... mediocre

at least theres a more tangible connection between muichirou and kokushibou

even though that was handled kinda poorly

tbh there really was no point to revealing that mui is koku’s descendant like at all, it just had no significant bearing to the plot of the fight

sanemi’s backstory being here is... okay ig?

idk the whole shinazugawa conflict has fundamental problems that i just cant think of any other place to put it without changing the entirety of canon

the marechi blood concept coming back was nice though

genya is there

him getting his bda was cool and helped turn the tide of the battle in a satisfying way (before kicking the bucket but thats not the focus here)

gyomei is a hollow husk of a character who barely got anything at all

but his fighting style is extremely cool and conveys his immense power very well

oh and him and sanemi are amazing at working together, like better than giyuu and tanjirou, and better than kanao and inosuke

theyre that good yet pretty much nobody acknowledges it which is sad

koku himself is pretty interesting and pretty tragic, very nice villain

but everyone together?

gonna be honest but this is such a random collection of characters, there was basically no foreshadowing that these four were going to go up again kokushibou, they are not that connected very well

i know there was this one post that focused on the theme of family that was common in all 5 characters in the fight but its just not enough

it would have been more cohesive if gotouge emphasized gyomei, mui, sanemi, and genya being like different aspects of yoriichi coming together to kill kokushibou hundreds of years after yoriichi failed to kill him

lmao its not like the 4 of them defeated koku with the power of family or friendship, they just smacked him over and over with a flail, shot him with magical bullets, and stabbed a crimson sword into his abdomen

wouldnt have been too hard to switch over to koku’s pov and go “damn these bitches are like my stupid brother”

...

speaking of crimson swords

i fucking hate the crimson sword concept oh my god can i complain about it now? im gonna complain about it now

unlike demon marks, the crimson blades werent even given any proper conditions, you just hold the stupid thing hard enough and it somehow imbues it with magical properties with no logic behind those properties

what part of crimson swords completely destroys a demon’s body in an instant? even muzan didnt go through that process when he was almost killed by yoriichi so where in the goddamn fuck did it come from

it could be explained bc the sword was left in the same spot for a long time but this tactic doesnt even appear again in a meaningful way (didnt kill muzan when tanjirou and giyuu held the sword together) so what the fuck was the point of having this even exist

its so underdeveloped and confusing and i hate it

the transparent world stuff is also confusing as shit and its pretty much never explained how they work aside from the vague “close your mind” advice, like why did it exist, it did nothing to help the present day demon slayers

its just so... poorly integrated

yeah anyways this is around the same rating as the akaza fight but a little worse bc there wasnt that strong set up beforehand

VS KOKUSHIBOU (SENGOKU ERA)

[Image Description: Manga panel of a bag getting ripped open, pieces of a wooden flute tumbling out. End Image Description.]

10/10

easily 10/10

this fight shows the tragedy of kokushibou giving in to his envy and hatred, when yoriichi cries over seeing his own family commit terrible attrocities against the people he wanted to protect

and yoriichi dies, now carrying the fact that he couldnt even save his own brother from the influence of muzan on his conscious forever

what a sad ending for yoriichi

and after koku angrily slashes apart yoriichi’s corpse, having him find and keep the flute he gave to him when they were kids to the present day gives him a small shred of humanity in the midst of his monstrous anger

VS NAKIME

[Image Description: Manga panels of Nakime. The first one shows a low quality version of her playing her biwa. The second one is a close up of her eye. There are spiky text bubbles saying “It’s Upper Rank... 4!” End Image Description.]

0/10

no nakime backstory

not even a goddamn fight

forgettable

useless

VS MUZAN

[Image Description: Manga panel of Kibutsuji Muzan in his white-haired, mouth-covered form. There are text bubbles around him saying “Not a single one was of use to me. I will crush the demon hunters tonight. I’ll massacre them all right now.” End Image Description.]

1/10

._.

i have many complaints but ill try my best to not make this another hantengu rant section lol

first off, obanai deserved better

im serious, this poor dude was forgotten until pretty much the end when we finally get a backstory out of him

and then he died

what a waste of a potentially amazing character

mitsuri getting taken out early was ehhh

pretty sure someone else made a post about her supposedly being extremely strong but she was nerfed in this battle which i agree with

literally none of the pillars work together very well, like remember how i praised sanemi and gyomei for being super coordinated? lmao that doesnt exist anymore

you could say this is caused by desperation though and you wouldnt be wrong, its just boring to sit through

that causes issues bc this now basically requires the crimson sword and transparent world concepts to be there to spice things up

but in this fight, they do nothing in the long run (except for tanjirou using the crimson sword at the very very end)

youve already heard me talk about why those two things are super shittily integrated and i cant be bothered repeating myself so moving on

kanao, inosuke, and zenitsu

they... exist? they didnt do much tbh, which i guess is the point but like, now its boring again

nezuko could have been used as a potential way to raise the stakes and make things interesting again (like “ah shit, muzan might actually be unkillable if he gets nezuko but its okay bc shes not here- oh fuck shes here this is not good”)

but nothing came of her running off except confirmation that she became human again so whatever

uzui and shinjuro are useless, why werent they at the fight?

like they could have followed nezuko and contributed to the battle even a little but they just didnt and now theres literally no point to them appearing in this arc at all

wasted potential

tanjirou

i wish him going absolutely apeshit had actual substance behind it, like it being a part of his character arc or something

i remember having this one theory that he had a corruption arc (due to dropping his kindness thing towards demons) and i wanted this to be true so badly

but it doesnt exist

not with how the series ended

god

the only thing that saves this fight from being complete trash is tamayo’s poison thing being amazingly executed

and the part where everyone got blasted away, losing limbs and shit, that made things a little more interesting again

but thats it

VS MUZAN (SENGOKU ERA)

[Image Description: Manga panels of Kibutsuji Muzan, Tamayo, and Tsugikuni Yoriichi. The first one has Muzan and Tamayo, while the second one has Yoriichi pulling out his sword. There are text boxes saying “And the moment I met him, I understood that I was born into this world to defeat this man.” End Image Description.]

9/10

finally something good again

while short, that’s just the nature of all of yoriichi’s battles with demons

anyways pretty nice, theres a clear reason why this battle exists (shows the scenario that made the original breather get super close to defeating muzan in detail)

adding tamayo here was a nice touch

my only complaint is that it seemed extremely coincidental that yoriichi somehow developed a breathing style specifically countering muzan’s multiple organs without even knowing prior that he had all those brains and hearts floating around freely in his body

like thats kind of ridiculous, even for yoriichi whos supposed to be “blessed by the gods”

could just be me though

VS TANJIROU

[Image Description: Manga panels of Kamado Tanjirou in his demon form. The first image has his eyes closed. The second image has his eyes opened and the tumor on his face almost completely faded. There are text boxes around him saying “You will destroy the demon hunters in my stead.” End Image Description.]

1/10

hoo boy

ok first off, demon tanjirou lasted for 2 chapters

thats it

2 chapters

so thats already a problem

i am aware its meant to parallel the beginning of the series but also its ridiculous how completely vague and rushed this entire thing was

nezuko doesnt do shit through not just this battle but this entire arc which i already explained so not gonna go into it further

kanao magically having a demon cure on her made very little sense

the scene where tanjirou leaves muzan in purgatory is pretty but if you look at it in the context of everything else, its ambiguous and confusing

(if someone could explain it and see how it connects to the original theme of “demons just being victims of circumstance,” i would love to hear it)

actually you know what makes me so mad about this “fight” as a whole? there was so much potential to do more with this concept

and im not talking about him escaping and nezuko becoming a demon slayer roleswap au (even though its a pretty cool concept)

him becoming a demon could have been a metaphor for his lost kindness and sympathy towards demons halfway through the series

it could have been a punishment for letting his anger towards muzan cloud his judgement

it could have symbolized literally anything about him losing his humanity as he got stronger

but those three things are just scenarios from my head, they dont exist in this series just based off of what weve seen from these two chapters

its disappointing

the only thing keeping this from getting a 0 is the one part where inosuke couldnt chop off tanjirou’s head bc he cared about him too much

that at least shows inosuke had grown as a character

everything else is just meaningless and convoluted garbage and “convoluted” is not what you should be aiming for if this is supposed to be the ending of your series

IN SUMMARY

early kny is very good, later kny is questionable and the ending is just a mess of wasted potential and disappointment

i get why gotouge had to have the transparent world ability, crimson blade ability, and the demon marks appear before they all appeared on yoriichi but theyre all just so underdeveloped and terribly handled in the battles they are used, it makes me want to kick a wall

like lmao, i could literally think of so many ways they could have been properly integrated, hell, im even writing a whole goddamn rewrite using my ideas for these three things (link to that is in my pinned)

just, god

if you want to debate over these ratings, my ask box is open ig? idk

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny meta #demon slayer #my writing #long post

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alby-rei · 4 years ago

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Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side.

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement.

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love.

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed.

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made.

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did.

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode.

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation.

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY VINCENT #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #vincent x mc #ikemen vampire vincent #Birthday fic #best boy #also FIGHT ME THEO #side note: I don't hate Theo #I just think we'd butt heads all the time xD #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #alby one-shots

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deltaengineering · 3 years ago

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Spring Anime 2021: Embarrassment of Riches

So this current anime season absolutely stinks, which just makes the last one look even more impressive. Well, maybe not all of it...

Zombieland Saga Revenge

First off, you don't need to tell me that the following is a severe outlier opinion. We good? Ok. ZLSR is, in a word, subpar. I liked S1 back in the day, but it was already in the process of getting lazy towards the end. S2 continues this trend and is basically just another idol show. And as someone who actually does watch other idol shows I have to say that it's not a particularly good one of those either. The zombie gimmick has mostly stopped mattering and we're just doing what every idol show does, only with the odd occasional sight gag. The alleged subversive qualities mostly amount to a flashback for Yuugiri, which is admittedly the best part of the show but feels like it barely has anything to do with anything. Apart from that, it's a bunch of generic idol plots, rehashed character beats, shoddy attempts at twists (while not connecting to any setups from S1), and the obligatory "idols give us hope" ending, which is terribly hackneyed and flat out bad. Tae gets further memed into the ground, because of course she does. And there's stuff that was simply never good to begin with, like Kotarou and his comedy schtick, which gets truly insufferable now that there's no qualities to distract from it. It really makes me think that S1 wasn't even all that good to begin with and seems like an attempt to turn this surprise success into an easy money longrunner with no edge and no ambitions. "The idol show for people who don't watch idol shows" indeed, but not the way you mean it. 4/10

Bakuten

But not to dwell on the failures, with the second show we're already above the cut — barely. This one got my attention with its really impressive performance scenes early on and it totally sticks to that, which is even more impressive. But besides that? Well, this is by far the most predictable show in a season where I watched an unambitious Kiraralike and put ZLS on blast for having no ideas. The characters are a mixed bag, some are cool (Shida, Asawo), some are very annoying (Mashiro), but those are the supports. The main cast is extremely one-dimensional, which is fine until they try to heap a ton of pathos on their lead, which doesn't go well. But I guess execution matters, and Bakuten is slick enough to get by. Writing this down in stark daylight I feel like I overrated this show somewhat (I actually put it over the next one originally, which definitely doesn't hold up when thinking about it), but I was indeed mostly entertained. 6/10

Yakunara Mug Cup mo

Yeah. Of course Mug Cup definitely doesn't invent or subvert anything either, but it's a pretty good Kiraralike that's always entertaining to watch. Explaining the qualities of such a nothing genre is as difficult as ever, but it mostly comes down to me liking the characters and it having nothing to annoy me. It's shorter than normal, which is a plus for slim shows like this. And yeah, you can make an excessive amount of dick jokes with the clay fondling. That helps too. Looks are just fine, pleasant but nothing out of the ordinary. Comfy low-effort anime. 6/10

Vivy: Fluorite Eye's Song

This one is decent, but sadly still a major letdown. Because the first few episodes of Vivy were excellent and kicked ass, but then it became increasingly clear that the writing can't cash the checks the ideas wrote while the action starts running into severely diminishing returns. Vivy just keeps slowly getting worse and worse as it goes on, not by a huge amount each episode but by the end there's a pretty sizeable gulf between potential and result. Going into detail would probably be a little much for this venue because there's a lot, but from the top level view the issue is that while Vivy has good fundamental ideas and steals at the right places, it just isn't a smart show — it's schlock, and by the end, poorly thought out schlock that tries to smooth out every problem with liberal application of the big feels hammer and le epic twist at that. Yeah, couldn't tell that the Re:Zero dude was aboard here, for sure. That said, it still works pretty well as entertaining schlock that is not to be taken too seriously, and the characters are generally just very fun to watch even when they're doing stupid things. Still, I can't in good conscience rate this higher than Beatless, a show that looks like butt but properly executes on its ideas. 6/10

Super Cub

So this is 100% a Honda commercial, and I got really mad a Yuru Camp last season for being a blatant shill. Yet I'm feeling this, what gives? I think the main difference is that Super Cub is specifically a commercial for one product (and a very iconic product at that), while Yuru Camp is so all over the place that it ends up mostly a commercial for consumerism in general. And when Super Cub goes too hard on the product (which it does), it's at least pretty entertaining. That's something about Super Cub in general: It goes hard. Your regular Kiraralike this is not, because it's uncommonly slow, focused and moody - yes, it almost measures up to Yuru Camp at its best and demolishes it at its worst. Also, it's just extremely amusing to see sadblob Koguma grow a huge grizzly biker beard and become a badass outlaw dad to her goofy wife and cute daughter, all thanks to the power of afforable personal transportation. Needless to say, that can get unintentionally silly, but Super Cub has so much charm that it doesn't matter — it's great when it's good and still funny when it's not. 7/10

Shadows House

Shadows House turned up with a lot of potential, and I have to say it at least delivered on most of it. It has some problems; notably I'm not a fan of how the entire middle turned out to be a tournament arc of sorts that seems curiously inspired by Resident Evil memes, crest-shaped intentations and boulder punching included. I also think that this is a show that would be perfectly fine without explaining much, but I guess it is a shounen manga after all so we got dumped on eventually anyway. At least that came late - close relative Promised Neverland didn't show that much restraint. Shadows House is generally well written though, with great characters, interesting interactions and a great hook. But what really makes it memorable is that it's exceptionally good at the cute/creepy contrast, something that is often tried but rarely works as well as here, with great character designs and very appropriate production. I hope this gets a sequel, because it seems like it's just getting started. 7/10

SSSS.Dynazenon

Coming in with a fondness for Gridman, Dynazenon didn't have to do much to convince me. The surprise though is that it's not a rehash even if it's basically the same show, a character drama where occasionally huge and goofy fights break out. Dynazenon is Gridman done better, and the interesting part is how it accomplishes this - mainly by being far more conventional. I do appreciate that Gridman went for something weird and almost experimental, but that only really paid off towards the end while most of the show was a distraction/holding pattern. It just didn't feel like there was enough material for a full series there, more like a movie maybe, if even that. Dynazenon fixes this by just being a TV show, with an actual cast of characters that each have their own arc. And by spreading the material this way, Dynazenon ends up having a lot more nuance than its intensely focused predecessor, while having the same themes and not actually being any deeper. In a way, Gridman ends up looking like the spinoff in retrospect, while Dynazenon is the full package. 8/10

Thunderbolt Fantasy S3

So how good was this season? So good that Thunderbolt Fantasy doesn't end up at the top, that's how. And all the elements that made Tbolt such a sure thing are still there, big hammy puppets doing stunts and scheming never gets old. However, I do have to note that at this point, the writing appears to have gotten too comfortable. I don't expect it to ever top the amazing S1 ending, but at this point it's like Tbolt has stopped trying to deliver on endings at all and seems in the process of retooling itself into a longrunner instead. Barely anything gets resolved in S3 (the climax is that the climax of S2 is resolved again, for good this time... maybe), and everything else is just setting up plotpoints for the next season. Tbolt is truly lucky that it doesn't actually need to resolve anything to be a great time, but at this point I have to say that I'd appreciate it if they wrapped it up with S4. 8/10

Nomad: Megalobox 2

Speaking of sequels to shows I liked, Nomad doesn't so much improve upon its predecessor but steamrolls right over it. This is a tall order, since Megalobox was surprisingly good for a sports shounen and had a real nice, heartwarming ending that Nomad instantly negates for purposes of drama and everyone being extremely miserable. That sounds like a pretty terrible idea - and it would be, if Nomad wasn't as excellent as it is. To call it not the same show would be an understatement, because it's a true sequel, not just the same characters doing their thing some more, or new characters doing the same thing as the old ones did. Indeed my biggest problem with Megalobox was that it still closely adhered to its genre template and was very predictable; Nomad fixes this issue thoroughly. Nomad is about questioning what being a hotblooded shounen protagonist eventually leads you to, and how to fix everything you screwed up by being one. You could call it a deconstruction, but that term has been so abused for cynical, edgy "thing you like actually sucks" takes that I feel like it doesn't really fit here. Nomad isn't cynical at all, it's just a character drama about some boxers past their prime, and it being a sequel to a show that is indeed rather formulaic just enhances the experience. My biggest issue with it was that I really like what they did with Joe in this story, so the big focus on Mac's backstory felt like a distraction for a long time. But in the end that turned out to be absolutely necessary to make the ending work. The ending's just great, by the way, and I shall say not more about it. 9/10

Odd Taxi

Yeah boy, here's the show that has apparently become somewhat of a "greatest show you didn't watch" meme, which I can feel smug about because I don't need YouTubers to tell me what's good and followed this from day one. Anyway, Odd Taxi is indeed great, the greatest show in a few years even. What starts out as seemingly a relaxed hangout show in the vein of Midnight Diners quickly turns into a psychological murder mystery while never losing its quirky humor. The character writing is outstanding, with even small bit players being on a level that the average anime wishes it could have for leads. And the rollout of the mystery is exemplary, with answers given and new questions raised every episode with a satisfying and logical payoff in the end. This is also the rare anime that has rock solid production from the first to the last second; it's never really flashy but excellently done and highly consistent nonetheless. And the music just owns. I have a few complaints, mainly that there's a few logical weaknesses in the story (which wouldn't even register in a lesser show, but sticks out here since the rest is so immaculately constructed) and that the ending overextends on the emotions when the rest of the show is so reserved and dry in comparison. But those are only the reasons why I didn't give it perfect marks, and I almost did that anyway. 9/10

#Zombieland Saga #bakuten #yakunara mug cup mo #vivy: fluorite eye's song #super cub #shadows house #ssss.dynazenon #thunderbolt fantasy #nomad megalo box #odd taxi #anime #review #spring2021

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sorcerersofnyc · 4 years ago

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The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 7/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Seven: Zemo keeps his promise

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics. I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

You looked beautiful that night, beautiful in a way he never quite noticed before.

As Helmut held your hand to guide you from the seat of the car, feelings of guilt, and fear, and hope, and longing all swirled around his abdomen. And when you smiled at him, your eyes deep and pooling with emotions he wasn’t really ready to confront yet, electricity sizzled in the air.

You stepped inside with a word.

“That was really fun,” you said, breaking the silence as you toed off your shoes. “We’ll have to go again next time.”

“I’d rather not return there,” He replied, pulling his dark coat from his shoulders. "I much prefer the classics.”

Helmut knew those were fighting words, words that would keep you in his company for just a moment longer.

“You need to be more open-minded,” You scolded him, a playful challenge in your voice. He accepted it with ease.

“I’m open to plenty of new possibilities, I assure you.”

“Are you?”

“Indeed.”

There was something more to your banter that evening, something that spoke of many new possibilities.

He received a message from Oeznik one day, a reminder to check on one of the other estates.

He didn't really want to go — he finally narrowed down the identity of the Winter Soldier's handler and it would only be a matter of time before he found his hiding place — but he needed to investigate some financial discrepancies and make an effort to preserve his family's legacy.

So he invited you to accompany him and together you traveled to Italy, to a massive building miles away from any city. The building itself was ugly, a horrific mix of Romanesque and Rococo architecture, but the surrounding land was a lovely stretch of woodland and soft plains.

“How many estates do you own, exactly?” You asked, gazing out the window of the car as it entered through the gates.

“Only a few,” he shrugged. “You know about the 1908 Revolution, don’t you? When Sokovia’s nobility was forced to give up their land claims? My family lost claim to our Barony but my third Great Grandfather invested assets outside of Sokovia as a safeguard to his wealth." It’s a story he was told many times. It was meant to be a point of pride for the Zemo family, but all he came to realize was how paranoia drove a wedge between his family and the nation they claimed to serve.

For generations, his family held influential government positions and made the rules for others to follow while placing their money, and their trust, elsewhere. "Though this particular estate was passed down through my Mother's side of the family. As you can see they had a...interesting sense of design, much like you."

When the car stopped in front of the estate, a lovely older woman with a long nose and round face escorted you to the Sun Room.

The large windows offered an impressive view of the gardens and expanse of the woods beyond them.

“Hey,” you turned, calling for his attention as he dipped his fingers in a basin of soapy water. “What’s that over there?” Beyond the trees were tall lights, LED panels stuck to the side.

“A racetrack,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh. Doesn’t it get loud?”

“No, why would it?”

“Because of all the people? And the cars?"

“No, no, you misunderstand, my friend. The track is mine.”

"Huh?" You snapped your head back at him.

“I like cars,” Helmut shrugged, “remind me again to show you the collection in Berlin.”

“The collection in Berlin?” You raised both your brows. It wasn’t your first time hearing about it, but you must have forgotten. “Is there anything you don’t have?”

“Beach-side property?” He suggested, a sly smile on his face.

“Oh, no! Whatever will you do without one, Baron?” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly.

“I suppose I’ll have to buy one quickly. Where would you like to visit next?”

A maid wheeled in a cart before you had the chance to reply. She nodded toward him politely but looked at you as though she were confused. She had the skittish look of someone who had something to say, but remained silent as she began to set the table.

"Leave it," Helmut told her with a raised hand. She paused again.

“Baron?”

“Leave it,” He repeated, much lower this time. The maid lowered her head before retreating, leaving the room with a puzzled look on her face.

You shot him a concerned glance.

“You ok?”

“Of course,” he told you, “have a seat.” He

set the table instead.

Helmut wasn’t particularly angry. Rather, he felt annoyed. He didn’t appreciate the look the maid gave you, as if you didn’t belong there.

He could certainly understand the confusion.

News of Heike and Carl’s demise spread throughout his network of employees, even the ones he himself never checked in on (he counted on Oeznik to do that for him.) So when he arrived with you as his company, they must have assumed he already moved on.

You took a seat at his request and allowed him to pile food upon your plate.

“If you’d like to go for a ride,” He began, returning to your prior conversation, “I can have someone prepare the track for us. I have a collection here as well, though it isn't large.”

"I thought you said you had to work." You met his gaze.

"I can spare time." He said, because at that moment, as the sun poured into the windows and framed your face like a halo, he’d do anything for you.

The delectable smell of sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, olives, and warm buttered bread wafted through the air as Helmut told of the time he spent here as a child. He had many stories of running through the gilded halls, playing with decorative swords, and badgering Oeznik with questions about his supposed history as a soldier and spy.

You spent a long time talking. He eyed the bottles that lined the shelf on the wall but ignored them for the sake of keeping sharp senses.

And when your lunch settled, he escorted you outside.

A car needed to be called to reach the garage through the thick patch of trees that surrounded it.

The garage was another monstrosity, a wide cement structure that resembled a bunker, but it served its purpose well. It was warm, and the fluorescent lights gleamed off the paint of his sports cars, vintage and modern alike.

Someone, his mother, he believes, had a viewing lounge built behind a thick glass wall. Sheets covered the couches and chairs, but he knew it to be a comfortable place.

“Take your pick,” he offered you, gesturing to the cars all parked in a line.

After a few moments of wide-eyed gaping, you settled on a Bugatti in electric blue. Helmut approved of your good taste.

Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you. He grabbed a pair of gloves from the glove compartment as you marveled at the soft leather and strapped yourself inside.

He smiled and, unlike a gentleman, lied when he told you, ‘I won't go too fast.’

He sped up quickly.

"Slow down!" You demanded, bracing yourself as he neared the car's top speed.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, arrogance heavy in his voice, “I’m an excellent driver.”

The track wasn't perfectly symmetrical, in fact, it was quite abstract with its curved roads and the long lanes flanked by trees.

You eased up little by little and by the time of your third go around the racetrack, your eyes were wide with unfettered joy.

“See? What did I say?” He offered you a smug smile when he turned into the garage once again. You might have laughed at the look of disappointment on your face when he didn’t go around a fourth time. "Would you like to go around again?" He adjusted the fit of his gloves nonchalantly.

"Yeah, let’s do it again!" You nodded.

"The same car or a different one?"

"Do you have one that's faster?"

"Do you truly have to ask, Драга? Of course I have one faster."

Your excitement was infectious. He nearly forgot what it was like to truly let go and lose himself in the fun of the day. Instead of working or plotting or even thinking of those things, he showed off each of his favorite cars—the red Porsche, the orange McLaren, the silver Lamborghini—and took you for a ride in each of them.

And then, you asked about his darling—perhaps not his; it was produced and acquired nearly a decade before his birth, but he adored it all the same— the silvery-blue Jaguar E-Type Roadster.

There was no particular reason why he adored it, (‘aside from the fact that it was beautiful, he thought. Like any man of his means and interest, Helmut admired beautiful things.

He watched you admire the sleek, rounded design.

“What about this one?” He imagined, for a moment, sitting with you inside the convertible, your legs stretched before you, your hair pushed back by the wind, your form, and your laughter the only thing in focus as the world blurred by.

“This one isn’t for driving.” He decided quickly, because the road might not have held his focus and driving wouldn’t have been what he wanted to do. “And the clouds are coming through.”

It was meant to rain that evening and, true to his words, clouds gathered and grayed the sky.

When it got dark, he turned on the bright lights that framed the road and took you out one last time.

"I'd let you drive one if you wanted," he told you, before adding, "on the straight road," rather quickly.

"We can do it again tomorrow? You won't be too busy?"

Your smile was free of worry, free of doubt or hesitation; it was beautiful. He's glad he didn't take you out in the Jaguar.

"We can do whatever you want, Драга."

"I just want to spend more time with you, it doesn't matter what we're doing."

After dinner, Helmut escorted you to your bedroom.

You bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the ornate door.

Helmut retired to the library, not quite ready for bed. It was a large room with tall shelves stuffed with books of many shapes and sizes. He spent nearly an hour perusing the shelves until stumbling across a worn copy of Il Principe, The Prince. He was well familiar with the text. He was tempted to pick it up, to slide into a chair near the window, and read to the soothing sound of rain outside the window. He flipped through the pages with idle interest and wondered what you thought of Machiavelli. ‘You certainly wouldn’t agree with his philosophies,’ he thought. He considered bringing you the book, anyway.

But then he sighed. He spent the entire day ignoring his responsibilities in favor of spending time with you.

But just as he moved to slide the book into place, he heard soft footsteps moving toward him. The person approaching was used to going unnoticed.

“Oeznik,” Helmut greeted when the man reached the edge of his periphery

“Good evening, Sir.” Oeznik greeted, bowing his head respectfully. “Did you enjoy your day out on the tracks?”

“I did,” Helmut answered truthfully, the book still in hand. “Were you able to speak with the staff today?”

“Yes, I believe I’ve found the source of the discrepancy.”

“Thank you, Old Friend. I’ll take care of the rest.” He slid the book back in place and planned to leave, but Oeznik watched him carefully as if he was considering something.

“Was there anything else?”

“Forgive me Sir; I was just thinking. The rain will clear soon, so you should enjoy the new day.”

Helmut raised a brow. Helmut’s known Oeznik for far too long to think that his seemingly innocuous comment had anything to do with the weather.

“You think I should spend another day without working?” Spend another day with you.

“Time off is good for your health, Sir. I’ll handle what needs to be done.” Oeznik stood with his back straight, his eyes focused and clear. He trusted Oeznik with many things, but he wouldn’t leave his mission to anyone else.

“Regarding the staff?” Helmut asked, leading him toward the conversation he wanted to have. But Oeznik was old and stubborn. He’s known Helmut since he was a child and knew each of his games.

“Whatever else needs to be done.” Was his stern reply.

“I appreciate your offer but I’m fine.” Oeznik didn’t answer, he simply hummed. And that hum, that simple sound of dismissal, annoyed him. “You think I’m not?”

“You are. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this way, sir.” It was Helmut’s turn to hum now, to demise what he knew Oeznik wanted to say.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen him happy.

“Perhaps you should take a stroll out in the garden,” He says suddenly, turning to leave as he does. “It’s still nice for this time of year. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Goodnight.” Oeznik exits the library and disappears from view. Helmut presses his lips into a thin line and returns to his room and go to sleep—but not before taking Machiavelli down from the shelf and calling for a glass of whiskey.

“Would you like a tour of the estate?” Helmut offered after breakfast—he needed to inspect everything anyway. You agreed.

So he offered you his arm and took you through the gilded halls, recounting the building's long but turbulent history.

"I'm surprised you don't have a horse or something," you joked, looking over the southern balcony and into the grounds below.

"Would you like a horse?"

"Find me a unicorn and I’ll buy it myself.”

After the tour, you put on your jackets, and Helmut took you through the garden path. The warm weather plants weren't thriving, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"This is nice," you sighed as you sat together on a bench. "I'm glad you invited me here, it's like a vacation."

"As am I," he answered, and the truth in his words surprised him.

Helmut was happy you were there, sitting beside him on a bench on a wild winter day in Italy. It was simple, but Helmut something inside him stirred and his heart swelled with affection for you.

You stayed like that for a while, relaxing beneath the shelter of winter flowers.

But then a chilly wind blew., you pressed a little closer, and he turned your way.

Your eyes met briefly.

“Are you cold?” He covered your hand with his own, warming them between the soft leather of his gloves. You met his gaze again and then your eyes fell lower, over his nose, his mouth, his neck, down his chest, and to the place where his hand held yours.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You released a shuddering sigh and then, with newfound confidence, gazed into his eyes again.

"Helmut," you said, voice just above a whisper.

"Hm?"

“Is this ok?” It was an open-ended question, one that could have meant anything and everything all at once. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

“Maybe,” was his honest reply.

And then, as if pulled by some magnetic force, you both leaned forward as if the answer could be found in the space between your lips.

Neither of you made it very far before and he pulled away, turning his gaze toward the garden path.

You both looked away, the silence that settled between you louder than any words either of you could say.

"I just wanted to thank you…” You said softly. “I know you were supposed to be working today. It must be hard to have so much to manage. With...Dominik,” You said his name with some measure of difficulty, “There’s just money in the bank he left, a few stocks that manage themselves but you...it must be hard to be a Baron." You rambled nervously.

"... I'm glad to spend this time with you." He confessed.

There was little else he'd rather do.

Neither of you acknowledged what happened—or rather what failed to happen—and how it left you wanting, aching for something that couldn’t be said.

So instead you smiled politely, exchanged the usual pleasantries, and went about the rest of the day.

You were right; he had work to take care of. There were contracts to renew, work orders to approve, and papers to file.

So while you got cozy with a lovely charcuterie, he acquired an entire bottle of whiskey and set to work.

That night he thought about what happened in the garden, what might have happened had he not pulled away.

He let himself imagine the sweet press of your lips against his own, the hesitant glance you might have shared before taking the plunge and moving into deeper kisses and maybe something more.

The very thought made him yearn for you—and he certainly wouldn’t find an answer to that in a decanter.

Helmut sat up in his bed and glanced at the wall. You were there, just on the other side, and he wondered if you felt the same, if you felt the same need for him as he felt for you. But before he had the chance to rise, to knock upon your door and take you in his arms, he received a message on his phone.

Oeznik, true to his word, had done some work. He uncovered a piece of important information, something about the UN meeting setting a date for late March.

There was to be a vote on legislation meant to limit the power of the Avengers.

He was out of time, he realized, dread bubbling up to the pit of his stomach.

He had to leave.

You ate breakfast together the next morning and once again went your separate ways.

“Come find me when you’re done working, ok?” You said, looking as though you had something important to say. He ignored your expression and nodded, taking the last bite of food on his plate.

Helmut took his time to survey each of the rooms, talk to the staff, and confirm that everything was in its proper place.

Next came the troublesome part, the part where he needed to plan for you. He needed to make arrangements to ensure your wellbeing and prepare you for a future he couldn’t be a part of, no matter how much he longed to be.

The work was tedious, and though he cursed himself for failing to have done so months prior, Helmut persisted. He spent the entire day tucked away in his office, talking to various lawyers and financial advisors.

Unfortunately, their ‘advice’ was all but useless.

He poured a drink.

Within a few hours, Helmut learned it wouldn't be wise to give you his entire estate under the contingency of his death, imprisonment, or other incapacitation. There was very little that obligated you to uphold the ‘Zemo Legacy.’ Though Helmut knew they only cared about lining their own pockets.

At first, he didn’t care. But then he realized how the act of giving you his fortune would place you under public scrutiny.

The last thing he wanted was to cause you trouble, for rumors about mistresses or infidelity to fly. Marriage was completely out of the question, but a partnership... a partnership would work.

He had the paperwork faxed to him right away and had someone draw up an addition, something stating that you, by right, would inherit his assets and estate. Later he'd assemble a team of trustworthy people to assist you and ask Oeznik to guide you through everything.

He paid a fortune in expedition fees, but it was worth it in the end.

The only thing you had to do was sign.

By the time he found you, it was dusk. You were in one of the sitting rooms, a mug in hand as you caught up on some American show he never quite saw the appeal of. The main character was charming and savvy but the romantic subplots were repetitive and tiring.

“I’ve concluded all my business here,” Helmut told you, lingering near the door. “We can return home as soon as you like... unless you’d prefer to stay.” Helmut didn’t mind the idea of leaving you in there, in that estate.

It was large, remote, and fully staffed. You'd want for nothing living there.

“It’s been fun, but I should get back to my work soon.” You gave him a noncommittal shrug, placing down your mug down on a coster.

“I can have your supplies sent here,” He offered.

“Vacations have to end sometimes, Helmut,” you teased. “At least they do for us normal people, maybe not so much for Barons.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted.

“Do you want to move?” You paused the show you were watching and sent him a wary gaze.

“Would you?”

“Well... I never thought about it. I mean...it’s been fun but I don’t think I’d want to live here. We’re miles away from... everything.” You gestured toward the window, out to vast stretches of land that seemed to go on forever. “It’s been nice to have people wait on me hand and foot but if we moved, I’d miss my friends��And I’d rather live somewhere less... remote.” You decided.

We.

Your choice of words wasn’t lost on him—your plan for the future included him. You expected him to be in your life. ‘As a friend?’ He wondered, ‘Or something different?’ Helmut opened his mouth to speak but shut it again just as quickly. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I see then. I'll return you home whenever you’re ready.”

“Return me home? Is there something going on?” You ask, shifting out of the blanket you were wrapped in. You looked confused, afraid of what he might say and what it would mean for the future you hoped to have together.

“Something came up, Драга, I’ll be leaving again.” He confessed, falling back to half-truths.

“Oh.” Though your voice was a soft whisper, your disappointment hardened that simple phrase, turned it into something piercing.

“I hoped you’d consider staying here while I was away,” He continued, “but if not I’ll hire a housekeeper, someone to keep you company—”

“Where are you going?” You pressed.

“To take care of business.” Had he met your gaze then, Helmut might have broken completely.

“When will you be back?” You pressed again, a deep scowl coming across your face.

“I don’t know.” He replied softly, and silence enveloped the room.“I thought we moved past this, Helmut. Why are you keeping secrets from me?” He didn’t have an answer.

“I have no intention of receding my promise to you. You’ll be taken care of-”

“Are you coming back?” You cut him off.

Helmut could feel your gaze burning through him. And when enough time passed, he turned to face you with a heavy heart.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. He hated himself at that moment, more than he had in a long time. Because you didn’t look angry, you didn’t even look sad, you looked as though you’d just been betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, but you weren’t interested in apologies.

The breath you released was ragged as you struggled to hold back your confusion and outrage.

“Is...is this about what happened in the garden?”

“No,” He said quickly, closing the distance between you. Helmut stood an arm's length from the couch, hoping you would understand. But you turned your gaze away.

Kneeling, Helmut cupped your face between your hands, forcing you to turn his way once again. “This isn’t about you. This is about my work. I have enemies-”

“Helmut,” you cut him off, placing your hand upon his chest, your tone softer now, pleading. “Please don’t run off again. Please don’t leave me. I'm sorry about what happened, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you-”

"Don't apologize." You offered him far more than he deserved: happiness, stability, love—a good life. But as he stared at you, gazed up into your beautiful eyes, he knew that a happy future would never come to be.

Because if he kissed you, he would never want to stop. He would stay, and he would be happy by your side. But happiness in a world without Carl, without Heike, without his Father or his friend...it was far too much to bear. He wasn’t strong enough to bear it. He would always be a broken man. And you deserved something better, something more than the shattered heart he could provide.

“I hope one day you can forgive me.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I must fulfill my promise.”

And he left.

He didn’t answer your calls or your texts—he didn’t even open them. There was no need. When he used his phone, it was to listen to his voicemail, to hear Heike's voice.

Because what he needed was conviction, an anchor to his grief. He needed to remember what he lost, not what he chose to leave behind.

***

Helmut rises from bed and prepares for the day ahead; He cleans, shaves, and dresses before heading to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

There’s a subtle connection between love and cooking, one that Helmut feels as he sets about quartering one cup of strawberries and combining them with sugar and water over heat. After all, he wouldn’t make syrup for just anybody (Sam and James will have to accept whatever bottled variety of syrup you kept in the pantry.)

He then rolls up the sleeves and sets to work, mixing flour, eggs, milk, and sugar into the base of a waffle batter and pours it into the heated cask of your beloved waffle iron.

He pours a cup of coffee into a mug and takes a drink.

As the delicate aromas fill the air, he hears a quiet conversation between Sam and James grow louder as the two approach the kitchen.

“Gentleman,” Helmut greets, not bothering to turn around and meet their collective gaze. He opens the waffle iron and shuts it once more because they weren’t finished yet. He decided to give the test batch to James.

“Zemo,” Sam says first, “They found Madani—dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea. We have to get moving.”

Helmut quieted for just a moment. He underestimated the severity of Madani's condition, overestimated the time he had to share with you.

“I see,” he speaks, finally turning toward the two.

Sam appears to be well-rested, but James... James looks about the same as always, tired and tense. “Riga, you say? I have a place we can go.”

“Any more surprises we should know about?” Sam asks, nodding his head toward the stairs, to the room where you still slept.

“Nothing of the sort. I’ll have the plane prepared and we can be off by noon.”

Helmut wanted to spend more time with you, but it seems he was out of time once again.

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #mcu zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #throughout the story I have little references to other characters Daniel played #this particular one has two

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felassan · 4 years ago

Photo

Over the last few weeks, I’ve spoken to a variety of developers who worked on the Mass Effect trilogy, including several who specifically worked on Mass Effect 3. On a few occasions, I thought it was worth asking what people thought of the ending, as well as the polarizing response from players that followed. The results were almost perfectly mixed.

“I mean, it would be easy for me to say ‘I knew it sucked the whole time,’ but... I did have misgivings,” Mass Effect 2 and 3 writer Jay Turner tells me. “By the time that was all set in stone, I was at another EA studio and hearing second-hand from a friend who was still on the project, but what I heard just didn't feel right.

“When I played the game, I was pretty OK with the ending, since I considered the whole of Mass Effect 3 to be the ending for the trilogy, but after I replayed it and realized that my decisions only really changed the color of the explosions in the ending cutscene, I was pretty upset.”

Other devs share this sentiment. Mass Effect 3 senior gameplay designer Patrick Moran was also disappointed when he found out how the trilogy was going to end, and even mentions that himself and several others actively asked about changing it.

“A good number of the Mass Effect team pushed back against the ending,” Moran explains. “I remember reading the story beats, [and] getting upset because it felt like all the decisions I made no longer mattered. I sent an email off challenging the ending and received no reply. The Mass Effect team was run like a Navy ship, with strict reporting lines, scopes of responsibility, and team leaders who had been there awaiting their turn for promotion for years and years. You followed orders and tried to not be too squeaky or uppity. The Dragon Age team was definitely more of a pirate ship at the time.”

Others are much more optimistic about how the ending was ultimately handled - especially after the Extended Cut. Mass Effect 2 and 3 development director Dorian Kieken agrees with Hepler about the Extended Cut, but also thinks that Mass Effect 3 as a whole was designed to be the ending, as opposed to just the final choice you make when you encounter the Catalyst.

“I think overall, people did not appreciate how much Mass Effect 3 was the end journey in itself,” Kieken says. “And how many stories that started in [the first] Mass Effect and evolved in Mass Effect 2 were being tied [up] during the game. Add to that the integration of [the first] Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2 saves, and I think Mass Effect 3 was a great ending in itself.

“But there are lessons to be learned as well. We often say that the first and last minutes of a game are critical, and this was a great reminder of that. Releasing a [free] DLC that focused on the ending was the right thing to do. When a franchise reaches a certain level of success, it starts to have a life of its own thanks to fans. Star Wars and its expanded universe is a great example of that. When that happens, you need to balance creating original and surprising content with integrating feedback from people who sometimes live and breathe the universe more than you do.”

Ultimately, the mixed responses listed above are fairly indicative of the general reception to Mass Effect 3 across the board. Some devs were disappointed, while others actively wanted the ending to be changed. On the other hand, some people thought the Extended Cut righted some of the perceived wrongs BioWare had made. In the end, though, definitively concluding a trilogy this beloved, and this inherently founded upon cause and effect, was never going to be an easy endeavor.

“I'll say this, when you've given the player three massive games where they've been able to make complex decisions that help to shape their version of the story/galaxy/character, the prospect of definitively ending such an epic and wide-ranging experience is never going to be able to ring true,” Mass Effect 3 senior writer Neil Pollner tells me. “There's no way to tightly ‘wrap up’ something that has been accumulating and branching and growing for so long like that. When you give people deep choice throughout the experience, I think any ending that doesn't allow for an incomprehensible amount of variation is going to disappoint.

“To my knowledge, most of the team didn't know how Mass Effect 3 was going to end. And as far as I know, the vision for it was not set early on.”

[source]

#bioware #mass effect #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age

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fanfictiondreamscape · 5 years ago

Text

First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 1)

Title: First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 1)

Genre: fluff, tons of it

Pairing: Sugawara/Tsukishima/Yaku/Akaashi/Kunimi x reader (all separate)

Notes: Nothing too unusual, but I thought that I’d start the posting to get something on the page. Whether it gets read, we’ll find out, but I couldn’t help myself. Onto the cliche headcanons. (I may do more of these, but for the time being, this will only consist of my top five characters in the anime). Quick note: some of these may be longer than others.

Only a forewarning, but inspiration hit harder in certain areas, y’know.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Masterlist

Sugawara Koushi

ok so

hear me out here, but I think that - for this to happen - it’d be with someone very shy.

someone that’s very shy and reserved while also remaining very aloof and observant

(maybe even a little sarcastic?)

like...he’d be attracted to their air, y’know?

as for the kiss...

the kiss itself would be done somewhere fairly private. and a little covered in shadow

someplace like the back row of a movie theater or the hidden corner of a cafe or restaurant. maybe even out in public when nobody’s outside (read: late night walk in the park)

like seriously, just imagine that, i swear-

ANYWAYS

the two of you would be holding hands, he’d be admiring you while you’re doing whatever you do

he thinks everything you do is adorable, and he can’t help but admire you

it’s only when you notice his googly eyes that you let him know that you know he was staring

he’d blush a little, but remain generally composed.

the quiet would be broken very suddenly by suga

“your so cute when you’re focused.”

little did you know, you were pouting.

he found that the most adorable.

he continued to watch you as you turned your eyes to the floor

oH BOY DID HIS HEART FLUTTER-

he couldn’t help himself.

time seemed to slow down as you looked up and he leaned in closer.

eventually, the two of you were staring into each others eyes

and once he peeked down for a millisecond, he kissed you

the kiss itself was very sweet, very gentle, but also had a slight bite to it?

(how am I supposed to explain this? does this even make any sense?)

as it got more passionate, he cupped your cheek with his hand as you gripped his shoulder lightly

as the two of you pulled away from each other, everything around you was a little blurry

even through the shadows, he could see that you were blushing a firetruck red

(little did he know, he was blushing the same color)

overall, the first kiss between you two would be very romantic and very sweet.

considering it’s suga, though, prepare for a little teasing and a tight hug afterwards.

Tsukishima Kei

THIS BOI I SWEAR-

it’s a well known fact that this beanpole is very obnoxious and snarky

so his s/o would be very much the same

maybe not as introverted, but very much sarcastic and witty

in order to last with this smartass, you’d have to be intelligent and have thick skin

good luck

otherwise, the kiss would most likely happen somewhere very private.

like his s/o’s room or his room, or when they’re home alone.

just somewhere very private and comfy

now here’s the thing-

i think the kiss itself would happen in the midst of a debate

something to throw the other off, y’know?

sooo...

the TV is playing in the background, probably some movie with a huge plot hole

it annoys both of you, but the two of you have two different opinions of how the plot hole could be fixed.

like...

you’re claiming that the timeline could be fixed had they found a certain item before a different one

and he’s claiming that the timeline could be fixed without the inclusion of either item

a whole back-and-forth ensues

the kiss itself though

that happens when you are starting to hesitate with comebacks and reasoning

like-

you know you’re right, but he’s pressing your buttons so much

the timeline is heavily dependent on the items that you stand by, so

(though he won’t admit it, he knows that the items are beneficial to the plot, and he’s only doing this to see you get flustered and red)

since tsukki’s not backing down, you decide that you have to do something drastic

something that’ll make the smart mouth speechless

so you decide that the time is now

when he’s looking at you with that smug look on his face, his mouth just slightly opened and about to make some baseless remark

you lean in and kiss him

it’s very short, very light

but now that he is shocked, you’re happy.

except...

he regains his composure and tilts your head to meet him

he kisses you this time

this time, its very passionate, a little rough, and a little messy

but the both of you enjoy it very much

the two of you act like nothing happened, but it’s the little moments like that that make the two of you happy

and you two tend to kiss and get a little more clingy in private-

overall, very short and kind of sneaky.

there’s still love behind it, of course

but there’s no real ‘pause’ or slowing of time until the second kiss

Yaku Morisuke

now-

i believe that this guy would be drawn to someone that’s very bubbly and energetic

not like yamamoto or lev, but very high-energy and outgoing

which also leads to the setting

A VOLLEYBALL GAME!

who tf would’ve guessed, oh my-

so like, the team is going up against a really powerful and notoriously defensive team

and while Nekoma is going HARD

they’re still behind

the sets were even and the odds did not seem to be in their favor

you’re in the stands, next to the mini yamamoto and lev’s sister

cheering loudly, helping lev’s sister understand the game a little better

anyway...

things are getting tough, and they call a time out

when Nekoma goes to their spot to discuss

you make eye contact with yaku

and you send him a thumbs up while mouthing ‘you got this!’

he sends you a big smile

and his upbeat mood almost completely lifts the slowly dengenerating one of the team

so when they are done elaborating a game plan following the slight loss of a flow

the members in play go onto the court rejuvenated.

with the new energy, they’re able to snag the lead

and, with a three-point difference, they win 25-22

a close call, but they’re excited nonetheless.

so are you and the girls that you were cheering with

as soon as they are finished lining up and people start to leave

you immediately run out of the gym and wait by the doors for your boyfriend and the team to come out

when they do, yaku comes out a little after the other team members

it’s your squeal that shocks him

the kiss happens when you jump onto him

(think something like the falling kiss between victor and yuuri from YOI)

kind of rough, slight teeth, but very romantic and passionate.

nothing bordering on lustful, but most definitely NOT shy

it would eventually mellow out to be more gentle and tame

the scene would lead to mixed reactions from the team, but

you can be sure that kuroo would have some smart remark, lev would have a dumb remark, and yamamoto would be fussing that he doesn’t have a girl

overall, while the kiss would be surprising and rough at first, it would calm down a lot

very romantic, very shocking, but also very memorable

ok but on another note, can something like this happen to me please-

Akaashi Keiji

ok now

this guy would probably be drawn to someone very laidback

kind of chaotic (think quiet chaos)

and very outgoing

like, someone like beck from victorious?

oh god, it’s all coming back to me now-

not so flirty and borderline flighty, but they’d carry the same air that beck does

otherwise, the kiss would probably happen when the two of you are in a private area of something

like a friendly outing or something, and bokuto would be acting like a fool with kuroo or another team member

so like-

the two of you would be cuddled up next to each other silently

maybe like in a less-obvious area

someplace hidden

and you’d just be doing your own thing

playing on your phone, reading, maybe even studying with the pretty setter

either way, you’re absorbed in your work

just as much as he is

though he has been taking slight peeks at you while you were doing whatever

it was distracting him

and he was trying to read

just imagine him thinking

‘they’re so pretty when they’re focused’

you don’t realize that he’s staring at you, but you do eventually are made aware of someone looking at you

with this guy being how he is, he’d probably just keep looking if you made eye contact with him

you’d laugh, he’d turn a little red

ultimately, though, he’d lean forward despite the flustered reaction.

he’d pause in front of you, just watching your lips twitch up into a small smile

a little nod would be the unspoken allowance that he was asking for.

now.

THE KISS

HOO BOY

i imagine that this would be magical

like-

the sparks never leave even after a couple hours.

even then, the remaining sparks are like little fairies that won’t leave your side.

it’s slow, it’s soft, it’s romantic

it’s also not the most gentle, not the most experienced, not the most clean (for lack of a better word)

but it’s everything that either of you could’ve asked for

when the two of you pull away, you giggle a little

akaashi smiles a little

(you know the one!)

anyway, after the kiss

you two would be made aware of the people around you

like bokuto

who is screaming “YEAH! FINALLY!”

you full on bust out laughing and akaashi rolls his eyes

(he may appear bothered, but he finds it endearing)

he does keep a slightly tighter grip on you after that though

overall, his kiss, in my opinion would be the best

if not THE best, then ONE of the best (next to yaku’s oop-)

very smooth, but very inexperienced

while also remaining so unabashedly him, y’know?

Kunimi Akira

now, i haven’t seen as much love for this guy

while i may be missing it or not looking in the right place, i thought i’d contribute to the kunimi train

ANYWAYY

i think he’d go for a bookworm

not necessarily quiet or loud, but very much to themselves.

someone whose shell would have to break

kunimi would probably be best friends with his s/o before he even thought of wanting to date them

and much like suga, i think that the first kiss would happen somewhere slightly private

by slightly private, i mean an area that couples would be plentiful

amusement parks, regular parks, you get it

either way, the area wouldn’t change the kind of kiss

since he is so quiet, i feel like he’d find a way to just relax with you

in a place that is ironically romantic (considering he doesn’t care too much)

that being said, i imagine that this would happen on the ferris wheel

cliche, i know, but just let me elaborate

it’d be getting dark, the two of you would have been at the amusement park with your friends

or maybe even upperclassmen

either way, you two have finally gotten a break from the personalities

and you just want time with each other

no talking, just calm and quiet

anyway, on your search to find something quiet to do

kunimi sees the ferris wheel and notices that the line isn’t very long

(perfect for him, seeing as his laziness is a factor written in the wiki-)

he directs your attention to it in a way that involves little words, and you agree to his suggestion

after a few minutes of waiting, you two get seated and just sit in silence

throughout the whole ride (up to this point), kunimi was looking at you

observing how the sunset makes you glow in the light

how the carnival lights reflect in your eyes

and he melts

you wouldn’t notice it since you are so absorbed in the view of the event

and he is absorbed in the view of you

now, here’s where things get odd

he wouldn’t know how to approach the thought of your first kiss when it crosses his mind

all he knew is that he refused to plan it, the idea struck him, and the timing was perfect.

so.

he just reaches for you hand, and when you turn to look at him

he quickly leans in and pecks your lips

short, sweet, but full of love

definitely leaves the both of you flustered, but

you two do end up scooting a little closer to you after it

and spend the rest of the night at each other’s hip

overall, the kiss is very quick

don’t let that fool you, though, especially with kunimi

the kiss is perfect coming from him, and wouldn’t be the slightest bit overwhelming

it’d leave for more calm atmosphere between the two of you

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disney-rapunzel-merida-vanellope · 3 years ago

Text

-…………..😬…………… so…….. I’m not the biggest Alice in wonderland fan……. DONT CUT MY HEAD HEAR ME OUT. I like logic……… ok so its not like i hate the movie. I have a love hate relationship with the movie but the story itself is just so frustrating to me. I dont see the point. I dont understand. And i know thats the point but for a story that is supposed to be batshit crazy, imaginative, insane…. It just feels frustrating to me. I enjoy the movie enough, the animation is great, it has some nice moments, i like some of the world. What i love more is the play cards, garden roses, tea cups, old England mix of aesthetics. But as a whole, it just frustrates me how Alice never does, gets or goes where she wants. Something is always in her way, holding her back, running from her or mocking her. The movie is also very quiet i feel. Idk if i where to to a movie with no logic id just go all out with crazy animation, visual gags, different art styles like in the dumbo elephant parade scene, worlds beyond imagination, ridiculously catchy and hardcore songs…. Idk. Its frustrating, makes no sense and is too quiet. Ok imma stop the slander and actually go rewatch the movie to see if i change my mind. But please alice lovers, its not you, its me 😭

- i must have seen this movie as a child but i dont own it in. Watched it in kindergarten or rented it…. Or maybe just watched some clips of it on the magic English collection and never actually watched it as a kid… but that side story of the shells was so nostalgic… idk

- the opening shot is beautiful

- disney has many great cats and Dinah is 100% one of them. If she had gone with Alice the movie would have been better

- laying on the daisies omg iconic. I wanna recreate that in photos

- I’m curious by nature… not enough to go through a whole on the ground tho. Again, why didn’t Dinah go??? Doesnt curiosity and cat go hand in hand?

- the falling down the hole bit is so good. Love her interacting with the objects and all the background details

- her hair is so voluminous, tell me your secret girl

- shes on drugs the whole movie

- those cookies look delicious, id eat them too

- i love the turning big and small bits

- she went from crying a river to being upset at herself for crying a river in 1 second. She really said “ugh i was so dramatic just now”. Honestly same

- hate the oysters story. Way to ruin the whole mood and we’re not even mid way through 😭 JUSTICE FOR THE OYSTERS and I’m not a fan how it just pulls us out of the world entirely. Sorry but I’m gonna stay picky

- its like in into the woods. Big woods and something weird is happening in every corner of it

- the rabbit’s house is the best setting. Love the details so much, i want my house like that yep yep

- everyone is so dumb 😭 why is the dodo burning the house? Why is the rabbit helping him lit the match? Why does alice keep eating? EVERYONE STOP

- love the butterfly pun 😂

- i love the flowers scene so much….. and then they start bullying alice……. I JUST CANT HAVE NICE THINGS

- THE WHITE ROSE THO ✨

- the flowers character designs are SO GOOD. This scene is just so colorful and pretty, really wish that last bit wasnt attached to it 😒 such a polarizing scene

- love the animation and color pallet of the cat. Thats probably the first outright crazy thing about the movie that i enjoy. Its super creative, the way he moves, disappears, makes body parts do crazy things. It must have been super fun and challenging to animate. The cat in the remake in cuter tho

- the designs of the bunny house & furniture, the flowers, the tea bulls & cups and the animalsXobjects are top tier.

- the craziness at the table is also very good. I love seeing the different crazy types of ways the animators came up to have them serve tea and just other crazy uses for the tableware that doesnt even evolve tea 😭 they absolutely understood the assignment

- guys, today is my unbirthday 👉🏻👈🏻

- that cake looks so delicious 🤤 is it me or does disney make the best looking food ever in every movie except the one where they should? I’m talklking of beauty and the beast. Belle was a guest to have dinner and just stuck her finger on a grey mushy thing GIRL WHERES THE DINNER? THE DELICIOUS FRENCH CAKES OF MARIE ANTOINETTE??? I side tracked and probably have to make this same commentary when i watch batb…..

- drugs

- the trees being so big making the forest so dark and making the sky not visible makes me uneasy. Idk, girl is already lost, bullied in every corner and surrounded by such darkness, makes me feel claustrophobic idk idk

- who cares about talking dodos and talking rabbits?? The real craziness are these glass birds, mirror birds, bird cage birds… THIS is what i wanted from wonderland

- this scene is so depressing but the animals designs are so good 😭

- thanos snapped them away 😳

- i like alice, she has a really cute design, shes a smartass and i feel bad for her but she also frustrates me so much at times cause of her stupid decisions 😭

- i want heart shaped trees with roses too, i dont mind the color

- the backgrounds and animation on the cards in this scene are amazing

- “and the king”kkkkkkkkkk

- everyone cheating to make then queen win 😭 whatever you need to keep you head on your necks

- “and the king” AGAIN 😭

- THEY SUSHED THE QUEEN AND SHE WENT QUIET 😭

- at this point I’m frustrated like alice

- why is everyone disrespecting the queen for that mouse? 😭

- girl, you shouldn’t have eaten both mushroom pieces. Seeing her shrink makes me, once again, frustrated

- I’m always worried for alice in this last bit but its the most crazy and energetic part of the movie so i like it

- i think the ending being a dream was a shock when i first found out about the ending. She goes through all that but its all in her head

- these characters walk a fine line between being alright and annoying. I like alice but even her has her unlikable moments

- its for sure not a movie i put on rewatch just because. I understand why its a classic, it has many iconic scenes and the nonsense might be appealing to some but its not my tea (oh what i did there 👀) i prefer wonderland when its about mysterious unreliable cats that defying the laws of….. having a normal cat body and forest animals with objects body. I totally dont see the appeal in taking dodos and rabbits, whose only thing is they wear clothes, that speak literal nonsense.

#alice in wonderland #disney #disney animation #watching every disney animation movie #long post #disney marathon

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songzhong · 4 years ago

Text

I love wine and was talking to my friend who plays Diluc and doesn’t know things about alcohol and was like. Why not just copy paste that too and make a really basic 101 of wine for Diluc RPers who don’t drink ? It is a bit vulgar as it tries to relate to people who just do not drink so they can picture it on their take on characters. ANYONE IS MORE THAN WELCOME TO REBLOG THIS or idk share this with your DILUC RPERS/LOVERS if you liked it ! Let’s get to it.

This really is a guide that gives up quick basics so you can really flavor your RP threads with this even without being an expert !

Thank you @noctuxcellus for the cute Diluc and wine bottle icon, this post is dedicated to you ~.

TYPE OF CLASSIC GRAPE WINE AND THEIR MOST COMMON PAIRINGS

Red wine is full bodied and heavier. Think like drinking a natural juice vs a cheaper concentrate. It's thick and has a strong sweet flavor. So it pairs well with meat as the fat brings out the unique flavors and appetizers or by itself because of the fancy flavor profile.

White wine is more acidic. Think as like drinking clear light limonade vs that thicker fruit juice. It is lighter on the palate and is more about subtly complementing a dish than being the star of the show. Think about how PBJ sandwiches and other type of food like this are not the same at all because one cancels the other's less pleasant aftertaste. White wine goes well with seafood dishes as it clears the mouth from the fishy aftertaste and pasta so your meal doesnt feel as heavy.

Grapes are typically what are used to make wine. However, nearly anything can be turned to wine or mixed in with the grapes.

There's a large debate about also making drinks which dilute wine, whether it is like innovative or absolutely unethical.

QUICK AND DIRTY LOOK AT THE DISTILLATION PROCESS

Wine are put in barrels and ferment that you surely know. What happens is that just like coffee or pulled noodles, the taste and texture will be entirely different depending of the altitude, the pressure in the barrel, the wood used for the barrel, the amount of fruit juice put in the barrel, what the fruits are, the soil the fruit grew in and what they were given, the humidity of the basement they are put in and its light exposure, the materials the building they are in is made of and the local climate.

This makes for wine to become extremely expensive and sought after when being recognized because it means you just cannot get it anywhere else, with all those parameters being a heavily guarded trade secret.

THE LEGAL PROTECTION OF RAGNVINDR WINE

The Ragnvindr wine is also legally protected from what I got since merchants who tried to reproduce the wine were called out as impostors from saying they are selling Mondstadt wine. If it wasn’t legally protected, anyone who uses the same fermentation techniques as in Mondstadt could call it Mondstadt wine. However, the Ragnvindr family probably paid extra to whatever is the wine guild of Teyvat so their label can only be put on bottles made by them and in the region of Mondstadt. This simply raise the price A LOT due tot the exclusivity and greatly helps Mondstadt economy which relies on the winery.

An example of something legal protection in real life alcohol trade like this would be:

Scotch and Whisky are the same thing. Only you cannot call your whisky a scotch if you didnt make it in Scotland.

Just like you cannot call all sparkling wine Champagne unless your brew comes and has been officially labeled by the Champagne region in France.

You probably know indirectly the mainstream notoriety of champagne because to celebrate people never say they’re getting sparkling wine. They get champagne. The clever marketing makes it so people assume that sparkling wine is of a lesser quality than champagne. It is often due to people who make sparkling wine knowing it wont sell unless they make it champagne so they pay hard to have it approved. (technically the label of champagne has been loosened but for our purpose I won’t go about it)

DILUC’S WINE EXPERTISE AND SAMPLING TECHNIQUE

Diluc can 100% run the winery without liking wine himself since he is knowledgeable about it and can differentiate a good or bad brew even if it is not to his personal liking, thus I imagine his distaste increasing because once his scientist brewers say "Ok this passed all the requirements time for the boss to approve it".

When you sample one you dont drink it. You gurgle and spit it. So Diluc doesn’t have to ever get drunk or even actually drink any wine.

Ideally when sampling wine, you have an empty stomach and have drank crystal water to not have any bias during tasting. You smell it, shake it to bring out the aroma. Then you slurp it in. Hard. Loudly. Because you want the liquid to coat all your tongue and stick to the back of your throat. You then gurgled it a bit around and then spit it out. Rince your mouth and repeat the process.

By doing so an expert sommelier can identify multiple parameters in wine (which ones is a constantly different depending on how the wine is processed) like which fermentation process the drink went under, the fruits in it, its age, etc. because they are so good they can identify each layers of how the wine was made. Compared to lets say a casual drinker who didn’t do all that tasting stuff and can just tell the fruits. The tasting process may sounds and look funny to others, but it is a highly respected practice that is not exaggerated in its process.

MASTER SOMMELIERS AKA THE WINE EXPERTS

MASTER sommeliers are very sought after in restaurants. To get your master sommelier credentials you need to go through a LOT of wine tasting. Identify the label of the bottle, its ingredients, describe the aroma accurately, which region it was made it, etc. All of this blindly. If you miss one, you’re out. Some people spend years and years preparing for evaluations process to be selected amongst other candidates as a master sommelier. When you get your credential ? Massive bucks. It could definitely be valid to say that Diluc got a master sommelier credential due to the high importance and respect of his family winery heritage.

MASTER sommeliers are highly respected since there are so very few, since you can be a sommelier randomly in a restaurant and just not be too good. In our world, Master sommeliers make 150K a year, making them one of the top earners industry experts.

A sommelier's job is to evaluate wine from the industry brewing it and/or restaurant. When you go to a high end restaurant and ask for wine, the sommelier, who can be found in the wine cellar at times visible when sitting at the restaurant to show off the selection, will come to your table and give you a recommendation based on your meal. He also is the one who decide which brews the restaurant will serve according to the menu. He's an expert the owner hires.

A very vulgar way people who dont know about it call a sommelier someone who just drinks wine and tell you which bottle you should buy even if you cannot tell the difference between two. That is what you have Master sommeliers. You KNOW they are the REAL experts who know their shit spend all their life mastering the aspects of wine.

A GOOD HEADCANON MEME

Kaeya never spat the wine when sampling, he always swallowed it and got drunk. ( Its always a meme in the tasting industry just like ice cream tasters who eat it instead of spitting it. Or actors who always eat their food on set even after the 15th take instead of spitting with everyone in the bucket. )

#diluc ragnvindr #.songzhong ( headcanon )#mondstadt

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

Emp-ire “Vacation.”

Ok everyone, so Just a bit of an announcement before we get to this story. As you know I have been writing this series for over a year now, which includes the book. That means I haven’t worked on anything else in years. I love these stories, and the characters, so I want to keep writing, But, to avoid burnout, I am going to need to take a detour from the the regular themes and write something new. I won’t title them HASO because that is the theme I am stepping away from for a bit. But its all the same characters and what not, just something new so I don’t end up with the desire to quit.

The book’s name is Empyrean Iris so, the nickname I am giving the universe is Emp-ire because it is shorter. If you can think up a better name, I am cool to hear it out, but this is how you will know the difference :).

I hope you will accept the new shenanigans and be willing to ride out this little detour with me. Its for the health of my writing, but I still wanted to give you guys something, while allowing myself to relax and write something else for a little.

Sharp light filtered in through tinted glass. Despite the brightness and pureness of the light, somehow the room still seemed dark. Perhaps it was the sharpness of the light and the blackness of the shadows left in its wake. The room itself seemed cold and barren. The floors were grey, the walls were grey, and the furniture was mostly stainless steel.

There was a chair toppled over on the floor in the center, surrounded by shards of shattered glass which caught the sharp light from outside and warped it to reflect across the room in crystalline patterns.

The walls of the room were barren, mostly devoid of pictures, except for one hanging crooked over the couch- a frozen image of a happy family smiling down from the wall. Somehow, in a room like this their smiles seemed rather hollow. Just across from that a TV was playing static and a defused bluish light filtered onto the floor where it mixed with the white light filtering in from the tinted window, and the bright lunar landscape outside.

The place was silent, mostly silent except for the occasional sloshing of liquid.

He lay on the dull grey floor next to the overturned coffee table. He was a wreck, wearing a stained white T-shirt and boxer shorts. His face was covered in a weak layer of scruff and in one hand he held a bottle. He lay there for another long moment staring with a dead expression up at the ceiling before slowly raising the bottle to his lips and taking another swig. He grimaced, and much of the alcohol spilled out onto his chin and neck, but he didn’t seem to care, and rested his head back against the floor with a dull thud.

He contemplated getting up.

Cleaning himself up maybe.

But that would clearly be too much work with his prosthetic stowed under the bed in the bedroom.

He was a cripple.

He couldn’t get up.

He took another sip from the bottle, hating the taste as much as the fuzziness that clouded his head.

A soft whimper from the other side of the coffee table, and looking up he saw a snout and a pair of ears poke out from behind it.

“Lay down.” He ordered drunkenly

And the nose and snout disappeared again to go along with a dull thud.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with her today, but she was always so insistent. He just wanted to be left along more than anything in the world.

Adam stared at the ceiling closing his eyes as another wave of incomprehensible self loathing washed over him, he was an idiot, he was pathetic, he was stupid, and he was barely even human. He had no life, no personality, and the one thing that made him interesting was the one thing he couldn’t do at the moment.

He hadn’t told the UNSC of course, he didn’t want to lose his job.

So he had disguised his visit to the moon as extended leave, leave that was VERY extended considering all his unused vacation hours stacked up. If he wanted, he could take the next year off.

The thought scared, him and his fear scared him even more. Why was he so afraid of spending time by himself.

It’s because you don’t have a personality.

Or the fact that you are super boring and you know you would be bored the entire time.

Because you are worried about what you are going to learn about yourself.

Because…. Because you don’t get to see her.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut and groaned.

Stop thinking! Don’t think about that!

And then he heard the sound of keys rattling in the lock. He sat up very quickly suddenly aware that he was legless and unarmed. But who the hell had a key! Only his mother, but she was back on earth, its not like he could think of anyone else to give it to. The key rattled in the lock for a few more seconds.

Adam turned looking around for any sort of weapon and found only the mostly empty bottle at his side.

He looked at it, shrugged, and then downed the last of its content before grabbing it by the neck and brandishing it like a weapon.

The lock clicked and the door was pushed inward. Boots thudded over the grey laminate floor, and a shape came around the corner duffle bag in one hand, a set of keys swinging in the other.

He raised the bottle, ready to throw it at the intruder and then paused.

“Ramirez!”

Ramirez stopped to look at him a dark eyebrow raising over an amber eye. He looked Adam up and down very slowly before, “You look like shit.”

Self consciously Adam managed to lever himself up onto the couch, so he could be a little more dignified, but as he was right now, there wasn’t much hope of that.

Ramirez lifted his nose to the room and sniffed grimacing.

“Dude, its smells like a bar in here, and not the reputable kind. It smells like the kind of bar where the blond chick just threw up in the corner, and drunk uncle dan pissed himself because he passed out.”

��Ok, Ok I get it.”

Ramirez turned to look at him, “No I don’t think you do, bro what the hell.” he bent over and picked up one of the bottles, “Since when did you drink?” He flipped the bottle over, “Since when did you drink this shit. If you are going to get drunk at least make it something good.”

Adam looked away, “Highest alcohol content I could find.”

“Yeah…. That stops now.”

He set down his duffle and crossed his arms over his chest, “Go get yourself cleaned up.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest.

Ramirez held up a hand, “No, no your mother said she would only give me the keys if I got your ass out of the house, and that is what i intend to do.”

“You met my mother!”

“Yes, lovely lady, though the next time she sees you shes gonna beat your ass. Now get up and go wash the stench off, I can smell you from here. Also,...” He looked down, reaching into his bag and tossing a small white bottle over to Adam, who, somehow, managed to catch it.

The two of them stared in surprise for a second before Adam flipped the bottle over to read the label.

“Ethen-null?” He read aloud, “What is this.”

“Take two, they should neutralize the ethanol in your bloodstream. I used to carry a bottle around in my wilder days. ITs great when you want to get super drunk late at night, but you don’t want to be a shitty human being while driving home drunk.”

“I don't w-”

“Option one is you take them voluntarily, option two is that I make you take them, and I guarantee that you aren’t going to like option two.”

“I can’t walk.”

“Boo hoo, get up and hop your crippled ass to the shower, I know you can.”

HE blinked a bit surprised at the venom in Ramirez’s tone. No one had spoken to him like that in a while. The ones who did speak to him kept tip toeing around him as if they knew there was some problem, but not wanting to address it.

“NOW!”

“Ok, Ok, jeeze.”

He uncapped the bottle first, tipping two of the little white pills into his hand before swallowing them dry and then getting unsteadily to his remaining foot. Ramirez didn’t make one single move to help him as he hopped, or crawled his way across the room and towards the hallway where his room was.

Opening the door, it was clear the place hadn’t been touched since he moved in.

He didn’t really know why.

There was something about sleeping in a bed somewhere that made that place permanent.

He wobbled through the door into the bathroom, which, luckily for him had a walk in shower and a bench.

Despite his original dislike for the idea of getting up, the water felt good on his aching soul, and he spent some minutes trying to scrub the alcohol and grease from his body. A thick coat of steam rose up around him as the warm water evaporated, rolling down the glass in rivulets.

He admitted to feeling a little better as he hoped out of the shower and onto the heated tiles, gripping the railing on the wall for support as he moved over to the mirror.

His mouth tasted pretty foul, but at least his head was clear, and he took at least five minutes of brushing his teeth and two cup fulls of mouthwash to satisfy him.

He contemplated not shaving, but decided he might as well since he was here.

His leg was already beginning to ache with trying to hold himself up, and he took the indignity of crawling on his hands and knee into the bedroom, in only a towel, rooting under the bed until his hand fell on the cold outside of the prosthetic.

He closed his eyes unable to look as he pulled it out from under the bed and strapped it on feeling the motors whirr to life as he finally picked himself up off the floor.

He refused to look down as he walked over to the drawers and pulled out a fresh set of clothes, tossing his nasty ones into a bin in the closet.

Over the sound of the fan in the bathroom, he thought he could hear the sound of a vacuum and then pots and pans clanging in the kitchen.

Curious, he stepped out into the hallway only to find that the front room had been tidied. The chairs and overturned tables had been picked up, the glass had been vacuumed, and waffles was greedily staring at Ramirez as he popped a piece of toast from the toaster, buttering it lightly before handing ti down to the dog, who took it gently and walked over to her bowl.

Ramirez looked over his shoulder, “She deserves it after having to deal with your dumbass for the past few weeks.”

He took a seat at the dining room table.

“Feeling any better?”

“Feeling human at least…. I guess.”

“Good,also you better be hungry because I am making breakfast.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

Ramirez raised an eyebrow at him, “Really, I come from a long and illustrious line of people who enjoy fiestas and siestas, so of course I know how to cook. My abuela would be horrified you even suggested such a thing. Just because YOU can’t cook.” he turned to the kitchen, “All this food in here, and the only thing I find open is a box of cereal, which is weird because no milk was open, which makes me think you have just been shoveling it into your face dry like dog food. Speaking of dog food, you HAVE been feeding waffles, right?”

Adam frowned a little affronted, “Of course I have!”

“Good, because I was about to slap your bitch as if you weren't.” Across the room waffles licked her chops rather loudly.

Adam paused and looked down at the table as Ramirez walked over setting a plate in front of him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Taking care of you, what does it look like. My matronly side really comes out when I think my friends are being stupid. Now eat your breakfast, or the shoe comes off.”

“The shoe?’

“Another long and glorious tradition passed down through the centuries that involves throwing your shoe and disobedient children.”

Adam raised his hands, “Ok, ok, I’m eating.”

He picked up the fork as ramirez turned to sit down next to him.

As soon as he took a bite, his mouth exploded with flavor, it was so good it was almost as if he could experience it through all five senses, and even a few more. His mouth began to immediately water. He hadn’t eaten like this in months, and found that he was surprisingly ravenous.”

Ramirez looked on smugly as he polished off the plate and then saat back in his seat,.

“More?”

Adam nodded.

Ramirez took the plate and returned with a second helping, which Adam managed much more slowly this time.

“So….”

“So?”

“How is the crew.”

The atmosphere seemed to sour just a little. Ramirez shrugged, “Since you left, its been ok I guess. Simon is doing alright but she kind of a stickler for rules, and becomes even more so when she is stressed, which kind of puts a damper on things….. She not as good as you are truth be told.”

There was a silence in the room.

“And…. Kanan?”

“Oh he’s still pissed. I am pretty sure when you get back you might have to duel him, or at least take a punch, but he’s sort of stepped up to take care of the clan and….. The weapons system since….”

“So she’s still gone is she/’

Ramirez sighed, “yeah, she's still gone, but she left a bunch of her stuff on the ship, and apparently she told kanan she was only going to be out for a couple of months, so here is to hoping she returns.” Ramirez paused turning to look at Adam with a frown.

Adam shrugged, “What.”

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that.” Adam sighed, “Soyou have said.”

“No no, you are going to hear me out for a second because I have a few things to say to you. I have been thinking bout it on my trip to find you, and I think its about time someone said them.”

Adam waited.

“You are the smartest dumb person I have ever met.” Adam blinked, “Here is a man who doesn’t need to do orbital calculations to fly a jet into orbit. He is a man who knows exactly what to do and what to say to new alien species. Here is a man who practically defined a generation, and yet here is that same dumbass abandoning his support system when he needs it the most. You have that habit, you know that. The habit of telling the Rest of us to F-off when you really need us. Its like you think that somehow we can’t handle your problems, when bitch, we have problems of our own, and if we can’t handle your we wouldn’t be offering to help. He leaned forward across the table, “You need to step up and do better because this is getting tiring.”

Adam remained in his seat staring at Ramirez and he sat back.

“Are you done?”

“No.” He slumped a bit, “But that will have to do for now.”

Adam sighed,, stared out the window at the Lunar landscape for a long moment before, “You know after years and years, after therapy and after psychologist after psychologist….. Not one has anyone ever said that.”

Ramirez watched him shiftily, not sure where this was going.

“Ive been waiting years for someone to tell me that?”

Ramirez blinked, “ok…. Ok well… shit I didn’t really expect that to work. I was just pissed to be honest.”

Adam shrugged.

“I get tired of people being so understanding all the time. It doesn’t help…. At least not me anyway.”

“Well in that case.”

Ramirez stood and walked over to his duffel bag, “You and I are going to go on a little vacation. Get out and experience the universe while we are still young. Find ourselves, and hopefully get into a shit ton of trouble.”

Adam frowned, “Are you sure about this.”

He grinned, “yes, and I know the perfect palace to start.”

He grabbed the duffle bag, and then flipped it’s contents onto the floor, “Your mom gave me these.”

Andam stood and walked over, turning to look down at the pile of clothes before snorting a laugh, “You can’t be serious.”

Ramirez grinned, “Nothing more wild that the final frontier.”

Adam reached down, and picked up two sets of wide brimmed cowboy hats from the floor pulling them apart. One was black and the other was a light tan, “You aren’t serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking.”

With a snort he reached over and crammed the hat on to Ramirez’s head before pulling the black hat onto his own.

Ramirex struck a pose, ‘What do you think, make a pretty good cowboy, wont I.”

“You look like as much of a dumbass as I am.”

“Ouch, that really hurts me on the inside you know.”

Adam turned to look at his reflection in the window, “So this is how you are going to fix me huh, playing dress up?”

“Ok, number one I am hoping to help you fix yourself, number two your mother says you love playing dress up, and number three, I want to go on a cool vacation, but no one else will go with me.”

Adam sighed, and rolled his eyes, “Ok, ok we will go on a vacation.”

Ramirez rubbed his hands together evilly, “Excellent.”

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