#Salem Witch Trials Memorial | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

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✨Pulled by the Scarlet Reins✨

Witch Trial! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: I came up with this one-shot idea by listening to “Cassandra” by Taylor Swift! I hope you enjoy, and please give me all your feedback and thoughts 🩵 This one is a bit angsty. No beta readers. Nervous and excited to share this one!

Summary: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: So much angst, hurt Joel, soft Joel, switching POVs, witch trial au, talk of death, grief, smut, oral receiving (fem), unprotected piv, creampie, protective Joel, yearning, pining, Joel seeks revenge, religious trauma

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The weather is cloudy, the sky full of windblown fire ash as another innocent woman is burned to death. You can smell the flesh rotting, hear the excruciating screams fill the amber colored sky as you mourn the loss of Cassandra.

It happened months ago, but you still hear it. The agonizing pleas as she begged for someone to save her, but she couldn’t be saved, not here. She was the only friend you had in this godforsaken town called Salem. She was your best friend, your soul sister, family.

They’re all gone now. Dead, murdered. Now you have no one. You’re all alone in a town hellbent to burn all the innocents they call witches. And you hate it, despise everything about this evil place. You just want to run far, far away from here. What a dream that would be, to get away from the gut wrenching noise of the town named for murders.

David is the worst of them. The priest of the ungodly church, with his cold blue eyes, a snarl that bites anything he touches, slicked back blonde hair that sets fire to innocent women. He’s a devil disguised as a savior, tricking any man into following him into the depths of despair. You hate the man, hate this fucked up town, but escape is death, too. But what’s worse? Getting mauled by a bear or getting burned to death at the stake? You’d take the bear mauling over all of it.

It’s simple enough. You break the rules, do anything to get noticed by the Protestant men of the town, and you get executed. It doesn’t matter if you plead a case, doesn’t matter if you can prove you’re innocent, doesn’t even fucking matter if you’re a member of the goddamn church. If you do anything any of them don’t like, you get hung or worse, burned.

So now all you have is this little wooden house made by the rough hands of dirty men, men you’d rather not speak about. All you have are memories of Cassandra sharing your space, her essence still swirling around this lonely room as you pace back and forth day after day trying to hold on to memories that once belonged to you. When you had a friend, when you weren’t so alone, but now you were left with the haunted ghosts of this town.

Sometimes they show up at your doorstep when it’s calm and quiet after midnight, spreading their cries of warning to flee the area. But where would you run to? Who would you have? No one. But you don’t have anyone now, so what does it matter? You’re dead either way.

You lull around your house, assessing the various shapes and colors of bottles you hold your collected herbs in, twisting the lids on tightly and lining them up neatly across the tall oak shelf. Green lush vines and pink tulips hang across the wide layout of the large glass window, where the sun kisses their gorgeous leaves and makes them grow and thrive in a state of wonder. This house is your only safe haven. Outside is a blood soaked warzone, filled with snakes and gossips that you’d rather avoid.

You don’t engage with the toxic church in town; you stopped going right after Cassandra was accused and sentenced to death. Nothing could make you go back to those haunted paint covered church pews, listening to the priest that spews venom about anything and everything he can. You’re a prisoner to this town of hatred, mourning losses of fallen friends and family members who you’d never see again. You’d never conform to this, you’d find a way out. Someday, somehow. You’d get the freedom you so desperately seeked.

Just when you start assessing some sprouting lilac petals, the wooden door slams open with a bang, making the entire house quiver under the sudden strike. You jump back, watching the potted lilacs fall to the floor as the ceramic pot smashes to tiny pieces. You feel cold, icy hands push you against the wall, holding you back as you watch the hateful men tear apart the only thing you have left in this sunken town.

“What’s this, hmm? Practicing magic in my town?” David seethes as he holds up a bottle of fresh sage and smashes it to the ground, the glass shattering into tiny pieces like your own heart feels like.

“No, those are my plants!” You scream in horror as he continues to smash each bottle one by one, piece by piece.

“They don’t look like just plants to me, sunshine. Looks to me like you’ve been meddling in the devil’s affairs,” David snarls as he breaks another bottle of lavender.

“No, that’s not it! Please, STOP!” You yell as the men push you back against the covered blue wallpaper. You fight with all your might to break away from their hold, but it’s no use. You have to just stand there in shambles watching your entire life fall apart before your tear soaked eyes.

“Shut up, witch! Bite your tongue, you little devil,” he snarls as he comes over in front of you and fists the front of your dress as you see violent, icy eyes stare into your soul. “Now, you’re going to see what the consequences of being friends with Cassandra are. Following in her footsteps, pathetic! Just watch what happens to witches who don’t pay attention in church.”

He tosses you back against the wall as you watch him slowly destroy your safe little haven. He breaks every single glass bottle in the house, tears apart every vine and flower that sits atop your kitchen counter, flips over granite tables, and destroys everything you ever loved in this space you called home.

You feel completely defeated, your silent screams making you dizzy as you plead for him to stop, crying out until your throat runs dry and wet tears stain your crimson cheeks. You watch him pull apart the last of Cassandra’s things, watch him murder her all over again as he lights a match and sets her golden heart locket necklace ablaze.

“No!” You shout, scream till your throat is completely on fire as you watch him spread the flames to your destroyed treasures.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you out of the house, your white dress snagging on the ground as you become covered in grass stains and dirt, your scalp feeling like it’s about to be pulled off completely as you thrash against his hold.

“Witch!” He screams to the growing crowd as they all gather around to watch the next innocent life be taken from the haunted town, except none of them even offer to help. They just stand silent or yell accusations at you as you sit fragile on the soaked grass, feeling the weight of all the hate crash down on you like you really are guilty. You’re not though, you’re just an innocent girl whose life got ripped in half by a lying devil of a man.

“Burn it down! Destroy it! Kill the witch!” The horrible words come bellowing out of the community’s mouths, feeding David hate as he smirks your way and nods at the men.

“Do it,” he snarls. And they listen, just like they always do. They set your house ablaze, lighting matches and pouring gasoline until you see nothing but orange flames dance across the entirety of your house.

“No, no, NO!” You muster up all your strength and push yourself off the damp ground, planning to make a run towards the crumbling house as it starts to topple from the hot flames of the ignited fire.

“Stay back, witch! We aren’t done with you yet.” One of the men pushes you down, and you feel your palms scrape against the rough ground, feeling blood soak the green grass as your fingernails dig into the cold dirt. You try to get a grip on reality, try to drown out all the screaming chants your way, but it’s no use. They’re echoing all around your mind, stabbing stakes into your body as you feel their filthy nails dig like chalk into your skin, smothering you in hate that you can barely tolerate. Your ears bleed, seep blood as you muster all of your strength to lift your aching head off the dirt covered ground.

You see the hateful snarls of the people, see the way they point accusing fingers and call you witch again and again until your brain starts to fog over like a thick mist. You feel the warm tears spill down your embarrassed cheeks, feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as they cast you down in shame with scornful threats and vulgar gestures. And you’ve never felt more alone than you do now in this little town of deceitful fools.

You feel the kick of someone’s boot, feel your shoulders being pushed down into a clump of wilting grass as you grunt and lay flat against the hollow earth. You feel as if you’re a tiny insect, its wings being torn off and ripped to shreds as the beautiful monarch butterfly dies in the hands of the vengeful enemies. You’re nothing but a speck of dried up filth now, and that makes you feel so defeated.

With every ounce of energy you have left in your frayed body, you dig your nails into the dirt, grunt out in pain as you lift yourself on your hands and knees, trying to ignore the rustling of burning wood and screams of past ghosts that were burnt in the flames time and time again.

You slowly lift your head, feeling a bit dizzy as the town lifts their semblance of pitchforks and dusty bibles in their hands, shouting angry chants at you to “Burn the witch” as they spit and crowd around you. Every single one of them follows David’s advances, snarling and bellowing death threats your way as you stare hopelessly into the sea of misled bodies. All of them twisting their words and spewing violence your way.

Your teary eyes scan the crowd, looking around for someone, anyone to help you, but there’s no one. No one that’ll take the risk. Your gaze covers the sea, eyelashes drenched in wet tears as your bottom lip quivers in fright. All you see are monsters in front of you, all around you, their claws lashing against your innocent skin as they spill blood over the town of Salem. Not a lick of remorse in their bodies as they continue to take innocent lives again and again. But that’s what they want, what they were taught to do. They never learned it was all a false lore to kill the ones who didn’t obey him. David. A false god on an altar made of death and bones of burnt bodies.

You hear the chants continue, feel the warmth from the bitter flames that took everything from you in an instant as your house sits in ash behind you. You can barely look up, barely keep your fingernails embedded in the soft grass, but you do. You can’t let them break you, even if you are already broken when they took it all away from you. Starting with Cassandra, then your family, then your home, your plants, your precious memories that were tucked away safely in that house. Now you have nothing. So maybe dying won’t be the worst thing because you already died the moment they took it all away from you. Now you’re just a corpse among this godforsaken town. They already burned everything you loved, what was another body in an ashy fire?

Your throat burns, no more tears left inside you as you feel the sting of bloodshot eyes scan the angry crowd again, enduring the weight of hatred sitting on your chest like you’ve been covered in gravel rocks, the heaviness consuming your insides until you can’t breathe, can’t speak. You’re just there, unalive, drowning in hate filled screams.

Your heart slows as you drown out the shouting voices, eyes swarming the sea of people until you see one that stands out amongst the others. In the very back, unmoving, not screaming death threats like the others, not making a sound as he watches with remorse covering the dark shadows of his sorrow filled eyes.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare at him, your gaze finding a safe haven in those flecks of honey colored irises that shine a little light down on you. He’s not like the others, no. He’s gentle, kind, a little rough around the edges, but it’s him that pulls you out of the flames, if only for just a few seconds. Joel Miller. The man that was never like the others.

He may be broken, may be hollow and bruised beneath his broken military watch, a mere ghost dragging his worn leather boots through the dirt just to get by in this miserable town day after day. The entire town may think little of him, may think he’s scum underneath their shiny church shoes, but you never did. No. He was the only thing that kept your head above water. The only light you saw.

He watches you carefully, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His fingers flex, jaw clenching as he looks at you with pain in those flecks of warmth. You feel the sadness and agony reflect in your teary eyes, feel exactly what he must’ve suffered when they took the life of Sarah, his only daughter, his only family, but now she’s gone. Just withered ashes in the blowing wind. And you feel it then as the sorrow takes over those cloudy dark eyes, can see it in the way he holds his tired muscles as he hunches his large shoulders. He wants to help, but he can’t. They’d just pull him by his grey threaded tousled curls and throw him in the grave, bury him alive while he suffocates in the damp dirt that holds the bones of his now dead child.

You feel a leaking teardrop escape one of your glossy eyes, your gaze never leaving his even as some men start to drag you away towards the haunted church. They pull your hair, digging their rough cut nails into your damaged skin as you watch Joel’s brows knit together, the lines mapping out on his forehead as he fists his clenched fingers at his sides.

While everyone else follows to the church, Joel stays behind. His large silhouette fading away when they drag you up the rough staircase and into the dimly lit church, throwing your body into the middle of the pews as they laugh and cast evil remarks your way.

You keep your head down as David reprimands you, tossing you against the dusty white walls while your fingernails rip into the fading paint. There’s nothing you can do or say, they’ve made up their mind. You’ll be burned at dawn the next day. This is it. They might as well give you a noose, let you tie yourself to a tree and end it all. You’d rather it be that way than watch the people you hate burn you alive.

You just face the blood soaked wall, curling your body into a tight ball as they tear you to shreds. You never were meant to be in this town, with these people. You just got unlucky, and now you’d die with the innocent souls of the lives they took day after day. And now you’d burn with them.

Joel watches them take you away, dragging you to the church by your lifeless arms and your long locks of hair. He doesn’t follow, can’t bear the sight of watching another innocent life be thrown into the flames. His fingers flex, jaw clenched into a tight fist as he flares his nostrils. He can’t stand to see you hurting, could barely watch as they took everything from you and burned your house to black ashes. And your face. That beautiful, innocent face he was so captivated by. He can’t even muster the anger that sits in his heavy soul.

You don’t deserve this, any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t say a damn thing to draw attention to yourself. It all started with Cassandra, the first innocent woman that ever lost her life, and then it spiraled from there.

He knows the feeling of loss, knows exactly how it feels to have the most important thing snatched from his own rough hands. He went through that hell, watched his own daughter get accused of witchcraft in the walls of the unholy church. He fought like hell, throwing his body over his Sarah as they dragged her from his reach and held him back so they could tear her to shreds.

He cursed them out, damning them all to hell while they bound her hands and spilled holy water all over her body. He still hears her agonizing screams night after night, still sees her body alight with flames while they held him down against the mud and made him watch while he screamed in suffering with tear soaked eyes. He remembers it all, remembers them threatening his life after he got up and almost beat a man to death. His knuckles were bloody, body broken as they pushed him down and knocked him out with the back of a wooden plank.

He remembers everything. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror of living day after day in a town full of demons. And now he bleeds himself dry night after night, day after day. He has nothing left to give, no fight in him now. Now he’s just a hollow body, a broken man cursed to live in a place he so desperately despises. He wants out. God, does he want out.

But now there’s you. The woman he’s pined after for months. The rare beauty that captured his black heart, a ray of sunshine that showed him the light. It was the small smiles and grazing of skin, the gifted flowers, the afternoon small talks in the wildflower fields. He wishes he got the chance to kiss you, to tell you how much you saved him after his daughter was taken from him. But now it’s too late. He couldn’t save Sarah, and now he can’t save you. And it kills him, it fucking kills him.

He hears your gut wrenching screams, hears the crowd chant “Witch” repeatedly as his ears bleed dry. He covers his ears, kneels on the ground as dirt covers the fabric of his worn pants. He can’t hear it, can’t bear to know they’re torturing you. He wants to murder all of them, burn the whole goddamn town down, and maybe he will. Maybe this will push him to his last straw. He certainly won’t watch them burn you. No. He has to do something, anything.

He knows they’ll either throw you in a jail cell with venomous snakes or they’ll tie you and leave you in the field overnight. Where bears, creatures of the night, or monsters can take you out before the crack of dawn. He knows they’ll burn you early in the morning, crowd your body with hateful accusations and weapons they use like pitchforks. They won’t give you a chance to explain or to show you’re not guilty. They’ll just swallow your cries whole with their fiery tongues and amber ashes as they set your body alight.

He can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t stand the thought of it. But what can a broken man do in a ruined town filled with cult following people that call themselves saints. He hates them, all of them. But he hates himself the most for not being able to save the people he cared most about.

He has to save you, even if it gets himself killed. For he’d rather stand on the thresholds of death with the fiery flames than see your gorgeous face melt into the depths of red embers. He’d walk through the black mist of hell, cross the fiery lakes of no return just to touch the softness of your skin.

You were innocent, a pure angel in a broken world. He wasn’t going to watch you die. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.

They leave you tied to a post in the middle of the field, a little ways out from the sparkling lights from the little town. They gave you no room to move, gave you no remorse when you whined at the sharp rope digging into your skin. They only laughed at you, spitting hateful words as they left you alone in the chill of night.

Now you sulk against the rough bindings, tears streaming down your now wet face, nowhere to go, no one to call. You’re just here. Alone. Hours away from being burned in the field. The one where lost lives cry into the darkness of night, their haunted pleas and screams still filling your ears. You’d cover your ears if you could, drown out the noise with your own cries, but it’s too late. Soon enough you’ll join in on the chorus of the dead.

You rest your head on the rough post, look up at the blinking stars in the night sky, try to relax and calm your mind. Soon you’ll float up there while your body burns alive. Maybe there you won’t feel any pain, won’t feel anything that might hurt you. And that’s all you can think as the numbness drowns the anxiety out of your frail body.

Your mind starts to slip to a warmer place, an untouched place that hasn’t been quite explored. A nook deep in your mind that reflects soft brown irises and scents of freshly brewed coffee. Somewhere where you wished you could’ve spent more time, got closer, pushed aside all boundaries and slipped against his plush lips.

Joel Miller, the only man that had been remotely kind to you in this tainted town. You remember that day in the flower field. That warm, sunny day. He had been so close, his breath blowing against your cheek, his crooked smile shining rays of light against your delicate skin. You felt it, the tension, the longing, the raging desire that almost spilled out of the cracks of broken skin on his calloused fingers. God, you wish you could’ve felt those warm lips melting into yours. All you wanted was one kiss, but now it was too late. You’d never feel his touch again.

You groan into the worn post, feel the tears begin to lick the sides of your eyes, dig your hands against the jagged rope that cuts into your reddening skin. The more you tug, the more the rope shreds your aching skin. You wince, struggling to stand comfortably in this position. You finally give up, relax as much as you can and kiss tomorrow goodbye. You won’t last long after the sun rises high in the sky.

Minutes tick by, the seconds struggling to give you an ounce of redemption. This was it. You were going to die alone, no dreamy sunkissed brown irises to soothe you to sleep, no gravelly voice to tell you everything would be alright. He wouldn’t be there to save you in the end.

The tears crash over you, silent cries to the fading ghosts of Salem, begging for them to send a message, pleading for one to slip their cold whisps of fingers to untangle you from this rope so you can run far away, far from Salem.

You close your eyes and pray to anyone that may be listening to send someone, anyone. This can’t be the end, it just can’t.

You slump your head low, feeling your tears dry on your cold cheeks, eyelashes wet with old tears. This is it, this is…

You hear a loud snap in the near distance, hear leather boots crunching against the green grass. Your head shoots up, eyes searching for whatever made the pacing noises in the middle of the night. Your eyes go wide when you see the large form emerging from the shadows, broad shoulders pulling at the blue flannel button-up with each step he takes, rough hands balled into tight fists. Joel.

Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly forget to breathe. He stands in front of you, deep brown eyes that reflect sadness of his warm irises, furrowed brows as he slides his eyes over your weathered form, your frayed dress, the claw marks that run down to your bound hands. His lips flinch, jaw clenches as he takes in just what they did to you inside the church. It’s like he consumes your pain, bathes in it, shares your scars that David and the town marked you in.

“Joel,” you whisper in a broken tone as a fresh tear slides down the side of your face. He sighs, feeling the sting of a tear in the back of his throat. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a muted mutter that sounds a lot like your name spilling off his tongue.

He huffs, clambers over to you and cuts the rope with one slice of the silver knife, freeing your burning wrists as you stumble from the post and fall against his broad chest, his arms stabilizing you from falling to the ground.

You flick your eyes up to his slowly, letting his calloused palms linger on your skin as he grounds you back to earth. You’re so cold, the chilly air marking your skin, but he’s so warm, even with just his hands on you. Warm sunlight, that’s what he is.

“Joel, you saved me…” you whisper, voice unstable as your shaky breath escapes your lungs.”Why did you…”

He stares at you, amber flecks glimmering in the moonlight as he takes a deep, steady breath. “You’re innocent. I couldn’t jus’ stand back and watch ‘em torture you like they did with… well, you know. Sarah… I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I jus’… couldn’t watch you burn, too,” he says sadly, his shaky breath blowing against your face.

There’s a second of tension in the air, a breath of something different between the two of you. Just two bodies that simply burn for the other, even if no words are said. It’s there. It’s right here, right now.

“You never were like the others, you know?” He takes one hand and cradles it on your cheek, taking the tip of his calloused thumb and sliding it up and down gently as you lean into him, into his warm embrace.

His eyes flick down to your lips, your eyes begging him to lean in, to take exactly what he’s wanted to do for so very long. Your hand is clasped around his wrist, not willing to let go until his lips are on yours.

The air around you stills, the forest behind you now quiet, only the sounds of yours and Joel’s ragged breaths coming in waves, only the quickening heartbeats that quake with every touch of his calloused fingers to your skin.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

His forehead rests on yours, lips brushing carefully against yours. You’re so close, so close to him pressing all his weight into you. He practically shouts your name as his lips draw near. One more move and he’d close all the way in.

Just when you close your eyes and wait with anticipation biting at your heels, he’s pulling away from you and running his fingers through his disheveled curls. You try to reach out, but he steps out of your reach and nods his head in the direction of the dark forest.

“Go on, get out of here. Before they come lookin’ for ya. Go, now.” His voice is deep, rugged, tormented, his dark eyes glistening with held back tears like he’s fighting himself from telling you to leave.

“But…”

“Please, jus’ go. If they found you they’d…” His voice drowns out as he hangs his head low, the shadows fading against the greying scruff of his patchy beard.

You turn your head and look towards the muted forest. The one that holds tormented ghosts and creatures of the dark. A place you don’t want to go alone, but anywhere would be better than this horror town. But Joel… you can’t seem to leave him behind.

You snap your head towards him and whisper, “Come with me.”

He lifts his tired head and stares at you, all wide-eyed and searching your anguished face. “What?” His voice is strangled, like he can’t believe what you’re asking him to do.

“Come with me,” you repeat slowly. “There’s nothing here holding you back. I… you… we both had everything taken from us. And I don’t want to leave if that means you’re stuck here alone. You and me… well, we’re the same.”

He takes a beat to register your words, dips inside his own mind as he relives the day they took Sarah, the day they forced him to watch while his world got torn to shreds. You hold out your hand, and he just stares wide-eyed at it, his fingers curling out, just like he wants to take your hand. He does, he really does, but there’s just one thing holding him back. David.

He flicks his eyes to the sleeping town and then back at you, as if he has an agenda to get to. He nods his head and looks your way, a plan already set in motion in those flecks of honey. “There’s jus’ one thing I need to do first.”

“What’s that?” you ask, interest arising with your quiet voice.

He looks back to the hollow town, and his eyes narrow and slit together as he sets fire in his mind to this haunted place. His hand clenches into a tight fist, and he spits venom from his tongue. “We’re gonna burn it all down.”

Your mouth gapes open in shock, eyes wide, but then he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him. The wind whips through your hair, your heart thunders through your chest when he drags you along back into the dark town.

He wastes no time and grabs a large container of gasoline and starts spreading it all along the houses and buildings of the eerie town. You follow along, grabbing your own container and spilling it over bells of hay and wooden boards. You douse everything you see, wanting to burn every single inch of this religious town, wanting to destroy David, the culprit of all this land of turmoil and destruction.

You move quickly, barely making a sound as you soak a large ring around the town, watching Joel march up to David’s closed door with a deep scowl on his face. Your eyes go wide as you watch him go through, barely waiting a minute before he’s dragging David by the scruff of his neck, giving him no breath to himself.

“What the fuck is this, let me go!” David screams as he kicks and claws at the denim of Joel’s jeans.

“No,” he growls as he shoves David’s face into the dirt and kicks him hard in the gut, David’s face contorting into blind rage and pain.

“This is for my daughter, for not lettin’ her go when she was an innocent little girl,” he seethes as he lands a strong kick under David’s chin, spewing blood every which way.

“This is for holdin’ me down and makin’ me watch as you burned her alive. This is for murderin’ my only child, the only thing that kept me sane in this fuckin’ church goin’ town.” He punches a fist against his nose, hearing the crack of bones as David topples over and holds his broken nose.

“This is for tryin’ to take away the only other woman that ever shined sunlight in this godforsaken town. This is for burnin’ all her plants, her house, for killin’ everyone she had left. This is for tryin’ to take her away from me.”

There’s tears streaming down his worn, tanned face now, pieces of grief and exhaustion reflecting off his glassy brown eyes, hurt mapped along the wrinkled lines on his forehead, pain bleeding from the surface of his now bruised knuckles.

You stand there watching him silently, feeling a wet tear fall down your cheek as you consume the pain he’s felt all these years, all the grief that’s hung like a dead weight on his broad shoulders. And you suddenly feel like you understand him completely. He’s broken, just like you are, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and tell him that you’re here for him, he’s safe with you, always.

Another kick and another punch to the face, an endless cycle of taking all his rage and hate on David, the man that took everything from him. After a few seconds he looks up from the ground, a large hand wrapped around David’s bloody collar, a fist hanging just inches from his bruised up face. He stops dead in his tracks as his glistening, tear filled eyes look up at you, and that’s when you feel everything he’s ever felt.

You take a few cautious steps in his direction, feel another tear lick the corner of your eye, feel your heart shatter with every step you take closer to him. He just watches you, deep breaths leaving his lungs, his tired eyes pleading for someone, anyone to help.

One more step and you’re right beside him, reaching a hand out to run calmly through his dark, tousled locks, Joel searching your eyes for a way to escape his misery. He leans into your touch, allows your fingers to slide through his hair, even closes his eyes as a low groan escapes his plush lips.

Another moment passes gently by, and then he’s rolling David out of the way and wrapping his strong arms tightly around your legs, letting hot tears slide down his face as they hit your bare skin. You let him bury himself in you, let him take the comfort he needs as he grasps you tighter, his quiet tears filling the space between the two of you.

This is what he needs, what he always needed. Someone that would listen, that would help take the pain away, someone that would understand what he’s gone through. And that’s you, it’s you.

He drags you down to the ground with him and wraps his arms tightly around your back, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as warm tears fill the cotton of the front of your dress. You wrap your arms around his neck, push your fingers gently through his tousled locks, giving him all the comfort he needs right now from you. He can have it all, it’s his, it’s all his.

“It’s okay, Joel. I’m right here. Let it out. All your pain, lay it on me. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me, I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright,” you coo into the shell of his ear, feeling him relax into your hold, letting his fingers cling around the back of your dress. “You’re safe with me,” you whisper, and that’s when he leans back and looks you dead in the eyes, all glossy eyed and teary from the weight of the world crashing down on him.

He opens his mouth, looks softly down at you and smiles warmly at you, even through all the pain he still smiles. For you. He smiles for you.

“You’re so… good. You’ve always been so good. I should’ve… I should’ve…” He’s rudely interrupted from a coughing, blubbering mess of a man behind him, and he turns sharply over his shoulder to look at David.

“Well, ain’t that sweet? Sharing a moment together? Please, makes me want to vomit,” David coughs, blood splattering all over the ground from his throat. “Why don’t you two love birds just burn in hell where you belong?”

Something snaps in Joel, his eyes go pitch black and his scowl digs into the side of his mouth as he gets up and drags David to the church by his bloody ankle. Joel throws him inside the white peeling doors and drenches him in gasoline until he can barely form a coherent sentence.

“No, you burn in hell,” Joel growls, lighting a match and throwing it on his body.

Joel takes your hand and backs you up slowly, watching David writhe in pain while the church starts to topple and crumble on top of him, the worn walls collapsing from the amber fire that starts to consume the haunted town.

“Run,” Joel pleads as he takes your hand and leads you to the dark forest, only looking back to hear the horror screams and watch the burning flames swallow the entire town.

Your breath is shaky, your feet burning with every step you take, but Joel keeps you upright as his fingers lock around yours and pulls you through the thick, foggy night. You don’t look back, block out the dying screams like you did with Cassandra, just focus on your quick breath and your tired feet.

You run and run and run, escaping anything that can hurt you, anything that can claw your skin and drag you back into the burning flames of the lost town. They’re gone now, vanished in the fiery flames, burned alive just like that did to all those innocent women.

It’s over, done, you escaped, you got out. All because of Joel. Joel. Your savior in disguise.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s all you see, all you know, all you feel. It’s here with you right now, he’s here. Joel is here.

He takes a moment to catch his breath as moonlight shines down on the sweat of his thick brows, cascading off the reflection of his tanned skin beneath a towering oak tree. You focus on him, his quick breaths, his dark eyes that seem to cast shadows over you, thick hands grasping against the rough bark as he slowly looks up, hovers just a little closer and then stares, mouth partly open as he takes in your windblown hair and your stormy eyes.

Another drawn breath and he’s sucking it back in. “Are you alright?” he asks quickly, eyes piercing into yours with worry.

“I’m… I’m alright,” you answer, still dazed from what happened minutes ago. The fire, the angry ambush of David, the whole town now scorching in the flames where they belong, where they should’ve been long ago.

He takes another step forward, the worn leather of his boots meeting your scraped toes. “I should’ve known they were gonna do it. I should’ve fuckin’ known they were gonna burn your house down, accuse you of bein’ a witch, should’ve fuckin’ knew they planned to murder you in the break of daylight under flames.”

He hangs his head in defeat, like he didn’t already save you, like he could’ve done more, and your heart breaks from the guilt that eats him alive. “If I would’ve jus’ kept goin’ to that goddamned church. If I would’ve fuckin’ listened to what the people in town were sayin’ ‘bout you. If I would’ve jus’ been a better man I could’ve saved you. Maybe I could’ve…”

You press a palm to his heaving chest, curl your fingers around the soft blue flannel, engrave yourself just a little into his damp skin, enough to feel yourself in his fast beating heart. He stills beneath your touch, looks down and puts his entire attention on you, waiting with tear stained eyes right on the verge of spilling.

“Joel, you did save me. You got me out before they could burn me. You took David out, you put the town of hell to rest. You freed me from my bindings, you came with me, you didn’t leave me alone. You saved everything about me…”

His eyes bore into yours, something like desire and fate twisting together, an inkling of relief leaving his doe eyes as his fingers cautiously trace against your bare arm, slow circles of the pad of his calloused thumb dancing across your wrist like a tide full of warm waves lapping against your body. It’s comforting, magnetic even as his skin connects with yours so slowly, so steadily, almost like a lazy river rippling through the forest.

He sighs, slowly lifts his large hand to cup your cheek, calloused fingers gently drawing lines against your soft skin. You lean into it, breathe in his pinecone scent, almost taste what his lips might feel like on yours. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of life.

“I had to save you. You were the only thing left that kept my heart beating. The only sunshine I saw under those cloudy grey skies,” he breathes, glossy eyes slipping into yours as they flick down to your mouth.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

“I should’ve kissed you back in that flower field when I had the chance. The way your hair flowed behind your shoulders, your sparkling eyes, your fuckin’ breathtaking smile. I jus’…” He leans his forehead down against yours, lips skating across your mouth as he passes them by, his gentle caress of your face as soft as a feather.

And he’s so soft, like a red rose petal beneath all the thorns and vines that disconnects him from anyone else. He doesn’t show this side of himself to anyone else, but he shows you. He shows you.

“You just what?” you whisper, holding your breath as he cages you against the trunk of the tree, one hand still caressing your face with his rough palm while the other wraps around your waist.

Another breath, another touch from his thumb as it traces along your bottom lip. He looks down, focuses in on your lips as he wets his own, hazel eyes staring down at you as he gulps down any fear he may be holding on to.

“I jus’ need to… need to… fuck, jus’ need you on my lips, sweetheart.”

Before you can move an inch he crashes down on your lips, cradles your face with his large palms as you sink into his broad chest, your fingers twisting into the flannel fabric that clings to you.

The kiss is slow, desperate, hungry. You feel as if this is the first time you’re breathing life into your body as Joel gives himself to you. He pulls you in by your waist as your arms circle around his neck, one hand combing through his messy curls as he groans into your mouth.

You part your lips, allow him to slot his tongue in as you taste all of him colliding against your own tongue. You moan into his mouth, let his tongue chase yours as you down the whisky taste of him, lapping him up like he’s your only oxygen supply left. You think you feel forever in his taste.

He tugs at your worn dress, slides the cotton material down your arms until it hits the dirt on the ground. You quickly pull his flannel free, tugging the leather belt loose while his tongue licks feverishly into your mouth.

He brings you down gently to the ground, makes sure your body lands on top of his fanned out flannel, makes sure you’re okay when he disconnects from your lips and looks down at you with a hesitant stare.

“Is this okay? We can stop if it’s too much. We don’t have to…”

“Joel,” you stop him, give him a small smile as you nod up to him. “It’s okay. I want you to. Please, don’t stop,” you plead.

He takes your answer and swallows it down, sits back on his heels as he gazes down at your splayed out, bare body under the glistening moonlight, looking starstruck from just how absolutely breathtaking you are under the glow of the moon. He thinks you look angelic, like you’re made of glitter and gold, like you’re made just for him.

He takes his hand and runs it along your jawline, down your neckline, over the dip of your hips, stopping at the top of your thigh. He lets a sigh escape his mouth as he stares at the goddess that’s before him, and he thinks he’s so lucky to be alive, to have you in front of him, unharmed, in his arms where he can keep you safe.

“You’re so beautiful, jus’ like that field full of flowers you stood in, with your hair all tangled in the wind.”

Your breath hitches, eyes widen as you take in just what he said to you. He thinks you’re beautiful. “You think I’m beautiful?” you ask quietly, lips parted as his hazel eyes glisten down to yours.

“Yeah. I do, darlin’. Gorgeous.”

Then he’s leaning down and kissing you again while his large hands push your thighs apart. It’s like your mind carries you off into the clouds as his lips drag down your neckline, quiet moans blowing through your lips when his warm lips take your breasts into his mouth, pebbling your nipples as he sinks down down down and lands right between your thighs.

You moan, feeling him lick a thick strip up your core, making your head knock back into the softness of the flannel while he spreads your folds and slowly starts to circle your buzzing clit.

You card your fingers through his tousled curls, hear him groan into your dripping core while he laps up all the slick between your thighs, tugging your bundle of nerves into his wanting mouth, sinking his tongue deep into your dripping hole, feeding all your desires as he gives you pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

You feel the white hot heat slide down your spine, feel your breaking point about to come loose, feel every stroke of Joel start to unlatch the tidal waves in your core. You feel as if you’re kissing the stars as he pulls you closer to his mouth, wraps his strong arms a little tighter around your thighs, laps his wet tongue up and down your core like he’s been starving for you for months. And now he has you, right on the edge of breaking.

“Joel,” you moan, “I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Go on, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me take you all the way. Show me jus’ how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he groans between the licks, taking his time to slide his tongue in slow circles around your aching clit.

You feel two thick fingers curl up into your heated core, feel him press up to heights you never could yourself, feel him collide with that spongy spot against your wall that makes you see stars. One more lick against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re arching your back and calling his name while your slick spills down your thighs, into Joel’s waiting mouth.

It feels electric the way he laps all your slick up, his hot mouth blowing against your core, eliciting another moan from your parted lips as he licks and licks and licks until you’re a writhing mess beneath his mouth.

He looks up from between your legs, sticky slick coating his thick beard, eyes glossy from pulling an orgasm out of you, hands planted firmly against the top of your thighs as he looks up at you, out of breath from diving into you.

“You taste jus’ like honeysuckle, beautiful. Like sugar on my lips,” he smiles, the edges of his hooded eyes glowing under the moonlight. And you swear you’ve never seen anything more magical in your life.

“Joel, need you…” you whimper out, reaching for his body.

“What do ya need, darlin’? Tell me what you want,” he whispers into the chill of the night.

You take a breath and blow it out, hoping your nerves won’t get in the way. “You, Joel. Want all of you. Inside me. Want you anyway I can have you,” you whine, desperate for the friction of his body against yours.

He smiles up at you, pushes his dark jeans down, his boxers trailing after them until his hard cock is pressed against his stomach, red tip smothered in precum, his thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, ready to split you in two.

Your eyes grow wide watching him crowd your body, his thick cock pressing against your soaked folds, rubbing up and down to collect your slick all over his massive length. He’s huge, but you can take him. You want him, now.

“Slow breaths now. Might be a stretch. Jus’ relax, I’ve got you, baby,” he coos, relaxing your body while he slowly enters inside your dripping core.

He gradually plunges into you, drowning out your moans as his lips land on yours, swallowing your gasps as he stretches you to the brim, his thick width rutting in and out of you, bottoming out until you can’t feel anything, can't taste anything but him. Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s everywhere, consuming you, bodies twisted together while he rocks back and forth, both sharing moans that get swallowed by the other, like you’re magnetized together.

It’s like you’re one in the same, two broken bodies that mend each other back together, two fragile souls that burn for the other, dance in the flames while your bodies get lost in the other’s, lost souls that found each other through pain and grief, Joel colliding into you like a star crossed lover, someone you’ve waited years for.

You break again, nails scratching down his tanned back while your walls hug him tight, pouring out hot liquid that covers him in you.

“Ahh fuck. Squeezin’ me so tight, can’t hold on, sweetheart. Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grits through his teeth, trying with all his might to slip out of you before he spills himself inside of you.

You lock your legs around his hips, make him stop before his warmth disappears, letting him know that it’s okay, that you want him to stay. “It’s okay. Let go. Come inside, Joel. Need you, need all of you,” you beg, long lashes batting up at him as you coax him to stay.

“You sure?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together into concern as he hears your plea.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice panting from the come down of your intense orgasm. “Inside me,” you repeat, a little louder.

He hears you loud and clear. He thrusts inside of you, as deep as he can go, kissing your cervix as he grunts and grits his teeth together, eliciting another moan from you as he speeds up his pace.

Once, twice, three more times and he’s throwing his head back, a low moan slipping from his clenched teeth as thick ropes of cum spill inside you, filling you so full that you moan out in bliss, completely saturated with his seed inside you, and that’s what does it. What consummates the two of you together, like stars in the night sky, two lovers that burn for each other.

He falls against your side, scoops you up and sews you to his broad chest as his fingers trace the side of your sweat covered face.

You’re both panting, both exhausted from the love making, no room to do anything else but drown in the other’s ecstasy. You’re just two warm bodies now, a false witch, a beaten man, two bodies that bleed together who slowly mend one another’s wounds.

He traces your lips, his calloused thumb perfectly dancing across your face as he stares down at you, the woman he’s pined after for months, the one he knew he’d eventually fall for. And he did. He fell hard.

“What do we do now, Joel?” you ask quietly, while he continues to trace the lines of your skin.

“What we always do. Survive. But we do it together this time. This time, we thrive.”

The way he’s looking at you with big doe eyes, and the way he’s touching you all soft and tender makes you feel things. Things you’ve never felt before. Like your heart swells just at the faint glow of his smile, his caramel eyes swirling into yours, his body crowding yours with the softest touch you ever felt before. Maybe you love him, you do love him. And you think maybe he loves you, too. But that’s for another night to uncover because right now this is where you are, bathing in each other’s moonlight, feeling sparks like the fireflies that dance in the forest light surrounding you, almost like this is magic. Joel is magic. He’s your safe space, your equal.

You sink into his chest, wrap your arms a little tighter around him while his lips graze across your forehead, telling you that it’ll be alright, that both of you will be just fine.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums, his deep voice reverberating through your entire body like cords connected to an acoustic guitar, like he used to play.

“Promise me the worst is over, that we can make it maybe to the coast, find a new town, build a new life. A life that maybe isn’t so broken?”

He sighs into your hair, scoops you closer into his arms and kisses you softly across your lips. “I can promise that the worst is over. No one’s ever gonna lay another finger on you, not on my watch, sweetheart. We’re free. I’ll take you to the coast. We’ll build a new life together. You and me. We’ve got the whole world in our hands now, and nothing can stop us now. No more flames, no more embers, it’s jus’ us.”

You lean into him, as close as you can get while his hand traces up and down your back soothingly. You think this is exactly where you belong, in Joel’s arms, taking on the world together. You can do anything as long as you have him by your side, your guiding light out of the flames.

Tagging some friends who seemed interested 😊 @ozarkthedog @alltheirdamn @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @sawymredfox

@littlevenicebitch69 @604to647 @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @msjarvis @mountainsandmayhem

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller au #witch trial! au #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel the last of us

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ultra-raging-ghost · 9 months

Text

Quick sketch of what was happening 472 yrs ago LMAOOOO

Transcript under the cut:

MEMORY BUBBLE:

Label: BBH 472 YRS AGO

Letter: Dearest /////////////,

I would like to [CENSORED] [CENSORED] your muffin [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED] FUDGE [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED] icing all over [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]

SPEECH:

Richas: THAT WAS SO FLOWERY

BBH: I DONT WRITE LETTERS VERY OFTEN! That's what I did last time I wrote a letter! It was to this guy and we were writing some crazy stuff. It was during the Salem witch trials, BUT I PUT TONS OF FLOWERY LANGUAGE IN THAT ONE!

Richas: THAT WAS 500 YRS AGO???

BBH: IT WAS 472 YEARS AGO!!!

#qsmp #bbh #badboyhalo #q!bbh #q!badboyhalo #badboyhalo fanart #qsmp fanart #qsmp richarlyson #richarlyson the egg

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scarlethexelove · 2 months

Note

The reader is concern about dating a centuries-old witch, Agatha. Feeling like a fleeting moment in her long existence can be daunting

Fleeting

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1067

Warnings: A bit of angst, Some fluff, A little bit of magic talk

A/n: At first I was really struggling with a way to write this out but I'm happy with how it turned out. But I got to put in that happy ending.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The tv plays on as Agatha talks over it. This isn’t anything new to you and you love to listen to her explain the inaccuracies of history. You think of how amazing it is that your girlfriend is a great and powerful witch who has lived centuries. She knows history better than anyone you have ever met before in your life.

But it always makes you think. Your mind wanders to another aspect of life with the witch. While right now things are good and happy between the two of you it won’t always be. You will slowly age until you look older than her and she will stay looking the same as ever. You love Agatha so much but it’s hard to think about the future. Having kids with her and growing old together, but the problem is she won’t grow old. She is already centuries old having lived so many lifetimes already.

You don’t notice the tear that has fallen until a hand cups your cheek gently wiping the fallen tear away. “Sweetheart what’s wrong?” Agatha asks her voice soft and calming to your racing mind. Despite her calm demeanor your breath quickens as your mind spirals and you panic. You didn’t think you could love someone so much and to think of losing her is crushing you. “Woah, woah, woah baby please talk to me.” Agatha cups your face in her hands forcing you to look at her as more tears stream down your cheeks.

Agatha has no idea what happened. You were just smiling at her as she droned on about how wrong the history books got the Salem witch trials. When her eyes landed on you she noticed the tears and the far off look on your face. How your body slightly trembled in front of her. She doesn’t know what triggered it but she wants to help. So she pulls you in her lap and hugs you close. Your hand grip the front of her shirt tightly like she is going to disappear from right in front of you. It breaks her heart to see the sudden change and having no idea what is going on. How can she help you? The only thing she can do right now is hold you tight and try to calm you down.

It takes time for Agatha to calm you down. Your grip on her shirt never falters even as your sobs turn into sniffles. You don’t want her to go, to leave in the past like all the others. So you hold on. It doesn’t bother her though she lets your grip stay as she cups your cheeks in her hands again. “Please sweetheart tell me what’s wrong.” You’re quiet for a bit trying to collect the thoughts, too scared to tell her how you really feel. You know you have to tell her, but how do you explain it? Would that mean she starts to age and dies. Can she even do that, you know she is powerful but how powerful is she really.

“I’m scared.” You mumble slightly nuzzling her hand for comfort. “Scared of what baby?” Agatha is truly lost on where all of this is coming from. “I’m just a fleeting part of your life Aggie. You have lived many lives and loved so many people. I’m nothing special in the spectacle of your whole life. I’ll be but a memory soon enough to you but to me… to me you mean everything.” More tears cascade down your face as your voice shakes. “I want to hold on to everything in this moment, but how can I? I’m just another chapter to a book that already has so much. I’m not worth you wasting your time here with me. I’m nothing in the grand scheme of your life.”

Your words break Agatha’s heart. “No sweetheart, you are not nothing. You are my everything. I can say in all of the lives that I have lived on this earth not one person compares to you. You are the earth, the moon, and the stars to me. You want to make me keep living.” Tears start to flow down her cheeks. “I need you more than anything in this world Y/n. You are my love, my one and only.”

Agatha leans her forehead against yours. You want to accept her words to believe that all of it is true but the question that still remains is that you will age and she won’t. There isn’t anything that can be done about that. You are human with no way of extending your life beyond that of what your own body can handle. “Aggie-” You breath out a watery sigh. “I’m still mortal. One day I will leave you.” Agatha shakes her head with her forehead still pressed against yours. Her hands encasing yours as they still hold onto her shirt. “What if I told you that I have a way.” You pull back looking at her face searching for any hint that this isn’t real. “H-how?” You question her. “There’s a spell. It’s dangerous but it would bind our life forces together. As long as one of us is living, so shall the other.” Agatha leans in kissing you deeply before pulling back again. “I have never met a person in my existence that I would have wanted to risk it all to spend my time with… That was until I met you my love. I want you now and forever.”

Your once sad tears turn to happy tears. “Yes!” You shout. “I want nothing more than to be with you forever.” You kiss her again, excitement coursing through your veins, hope rising in a once sorrowful heart. “Baby it will be dangerous. I-I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t work.” Agatha’s voice laced with concern. As much as she wants to do it she doesn’t want to kill you in the process. “I trust you Aggie. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.”

And so that is what you two did. It took many extensive conversations and many nights of practice before Agatha was sure she was ready to try. It wasn’t easy and with a bit of a scare the spell was successful. You never expected to see so many different lifetimes pass by but with Agatha by your side those lives were worth living.

#syd answers #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x fem reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #agatha x reader fluff #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x reader angst #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 9 months

Note

More odd duck or secret! Reader crumbs??? I have a mighty need

"Well, I'm in hell. There is no other explanation."

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it," Bruce said, peering over your shoulder.

"Press junket, conference, edits- no. No it is not."

"Poor baby," he crooned, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Also you can't call me dramatic when you dress as a bat and regularly fight a clown. With an Alien."

"When you put it like that it sounds silly."

You stare at the schedule frowning. Committing it to memory and making a mental note to make sure that you have spare charging banks and sundry other supplies.

"The silence is deafening," Bruce teased. But he was worried. You were getting overworked. You were fueled by creative inertia and a joy of learning... But. The back-to-back appearances and signings. The pressure to keep churning out books and interviews... Propelled now thanks to Bruce and Lois and their connection to you.

You'd never wanted to be famous. Not really.

Not like this. And now you have offers for TV series and movies? Studios trying to get you to let them turn your books into a whole... thing. For a girl from Kansas who traded bottles and cans for money for new books, it was an appalling sum of money. But for a Girl who had eviscerated someone for mishandling an account of the Salem Witch Trials to lean into the salacious and less into the actual facts it was... conflicting.

Bruce was almost willing to buy the rights himself just so people would just leave you alone.

"I hate going to LA," you sigh. "At least some of the buildings in New York are old enough to be interesting."

"It could be worse," Bruce said bracingly. "It could be Florida. You really hate Florida."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #odd duck! reader

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streetsofsalem · 2 years

Text

Revenues and Reparations in the Witch City

I often find that my profession and my residence are in conflict: it’s challenging to be an historian in Salem, especially at this time of year. More than one person has suggested that I move, and I think every one of my colleagues has done so when I come in all hot and bothered about one thing or another. But even though Salem is often frustrating, it is always engaging and has offered me many…

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#Catalonia #European Witch Trials #Exoneration #Haunted Happenings #Memory #October #public history #Reparations #Salem witch trials #Scottish Witch Trials #Tourism #Witch City

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rabbitcruiser · 11 months

Text

The Salem witch trials were ended by a letter from Massachusetts Governor Sir William Phips on October 12, 1692.

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heavennumber2 · 3 months

Text

Fireflies

Agent Whisky/f!reader

Summary: the Statesman investigate a strange portal that appears in a forest in Montana. When you appear, you have no memory of who you are or where you come from. You must be here for a reason, right?

Rating: E (future smut)

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, Whisky can be a bit of a dope, reader may have a small crush on Gingerale as writer is a shameless bi-girl, spoilers for the Golden Circle film. Smut in later chapters. Reader is a blank slate but is mentioned to have hair.

Note from writer: Whisky deserves a better ending. Those who suffer from trauma need help, not punishment. Open to all suggestions as I’m a new baby at this. Gimme love AND critiques.

Part One: What the Portal Gives

The Statesmen were aware of the portal. It was hidden in a small woodsy area in Montana next to deserted train tracks and a small highway. Gingerale had tested the frequencies, returning with “non- conclusive” results.

The portal started giving the forest small things: a cooking pot which seemed to be from the 18th century, a few necklaces that were identified as Chinese heirlooms. Then bigger things like a Honda Civic dated for 2025.

Then it gave the forest People.

That’s when the Statesmen stepped in. They had gathered and hospitalized three people so far, all from different times and places, all confused with no memory of where they came from.

The portal only gave when someone was looking. Like it was gifting specifically to someone.

The farmer down the road found the cooking pot. His teenage son found the car. The people were offered to investigators. One investigator found one of the three as a woman from Salem during the witch trials, which happened to be her master’s dissertation subject. The Statesman Agency was able to collect the next two- a doctor from an undetermined future and a little girl who refuses to speak.

Agent Whisky didn’t trust it.

He argued for hours with Champ when he was sent to investigate, finally agreeing to go when offered a sizable raise and a few extra bottles of 30 year aged whisky.

He was expecting a large obvious swirling pool of colors, horrifying and beautiful. He liked the old sci-fi shows he watched with his brothers but had no intention to live one out. These swirling pools of color always birthed monstrosities with multiple arms and drooling tentacles. At least these portals were obvious.

He grumbled to himself as he trudged down the path to where they were sighted. He was not interested in being eating by a slug like alien and would raise hell if that’s what the portal sent him. He spotted the portal after 20 minutes of walking and grumbling. He checked his watch at 9:14pm.

The Montana Lights, as the agencies began to call it, were simply that: lights. They seemed like they were dancing. He carefully stalked towards them through the woods, hand on his Glock, suspicious.

These little lights danced like fireflies, much like the ones he saw on his parents ranch as a child. He exhaled at their beauty; these tiny little fireflies pulsating and twirling- he could have sworn they were saying Hello. They felt so sentient, like each one had a silly friendly little personality. They greeted their reflection in his eyes, danced on his coat, played around the rim of his stenson.

Agent Whisky found he liked them. They reminded him of the best parts of his childhood. He opened and extended his palm where a few of them immediately gathered curiously, almost like they were smelling him. Little barn kittens, baby calfs, prancing fouls- this is what he would compare them to. He felt tears brim in his eyes from remembrance. All the animals him and his wife would raise- if she still lived.

It wasn’t threatening when they formed around him. If anything, he found it comforting. He extended out his hands to side and tilted his head towards the heavens he no longer believed in. These little lights grew brighter and brighter. He could have sworn a few of them kissed his cheeks and forehead.

Agent Whisky wept for the first time since his wife died. Arms out like the crucifixion, he wailed. The little lights held him the best they could without limbs to do so.

He felt them kiss him goodbye before they were swallowed by the air.

Agent Whisky didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay here forever and become a part of this forest, those lights, this air. The confusing influx of emotion did a number on his heart as it wasn’t sure whether to speed up from joy or slow down in sadness. He just let it be, let it pump the way it wanted to.

He swore he would have become a statue, a permanent fixture in this odd little forest, if he didn’t hear a gasp behind him.

His mind couldn’t recall any trained instincts but his body sure did; his hand shot down to the Glock on his holster and it was readied within milliseconds. He violently turned towards the sound, gun pointed, eyes focused.

There stood a woman. There stood You. Confused. Afraid. Shaking from the cold Montana air- or possibly the gun pointed to your head.

“Please,” came from your lips in a broken whisper, “I don’t know where I am…”

Your mind and legs gave out at the same time as you crumbled to the floor.

“Shit!” Agent Whisky cursed as he rehoused his gun and leapt forward to examine you. He lifted you up and brushed the hair from your face. He checked your pulse, your forehead temperature, searched your pockets for any identification.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and called for Gingerale.

“WHISKY! Where have you-“ came Ginger’s response.

“We got one. A woman. Pretty as a picture, possibly 30’s, no identification, pulse is tachycardic, she’s unconscious”

“Whisky. I’ve been trying to call you for hours. Tequila has been scouring the area for you, where the hell are you?!”

Agent Whisky paused, you still in his arms.

He checked the time on his phone.

5:17am.

He lost eight hours. How the hell did he lose eight hours?

Agent Whisky lifted you up like a macabre bridal carry and began the walk back to his car.

—

You awake to blaring lights. Disgusting rude fluorescent lights.

It takes you a moment to lift yourself and you realize it’s because of the IV needle in your arm. You’re in a hospital.

No, this isn’t a hospital. It feels more like a laboratory. It’s cold with bland white walls and a large viewing window to an ominously white bland hallway.

Three people watch you from behind the window, faces unreadable.

A woman of unnatural striking beauty in a lab coat, like she’s trying to subdue her radiance.

Two men in obnoxious cowboy hats, one older with a thick prospectors beard and another about your age with a mustache that belongs on a porn star. This is stupid. This is too stupid to be real.

You look down at your body and see you’ve been dressed in a hospital gown. You really hope it was the woman who dressed you, for comfort and for shame.

Once they see you’re awake, they speak to each other for a moment. The woman looks way too excited, the Prospector uncomfortable, and the Porn-stache has a look like he’d rather fight a lion than come into your room.

The woman looks at them both indignantly and seems to mouth “Cowards” before disappearing from the window.

You hear the door unlock and in she enters. Her hair is perfect, her skin smooth, the teeth in her smile bright. You start to feel a little subconscious. You suddenly can’t remember what you look like.

“Hi,” she speaks like she’s approaching a feral child, “I’m Gingerale. How are you feeling?”

Her name is what? Are you in a live action anime?

“Um” is all you can muster. You’re shocked by the sound of your own voice, almost like it doesn’t belong to you.

“Do you remember your name? Where you’re from?” She asks gently.

What a stupid question, you think.

“My name is,” and you stop.

How does someone forget their name? It has to be there somewhere in your head, swirling around, and if you can think longer, you might catch it.

“No one else could remember either,” she reassures you. You would probably like her if you weren’t so unsettled. “No one could remember their names or where they’re from. Do you think you can try to remember where you’re from?”

Oh lord do you try. You would love to give an answer that would fix the whole situation and make her smile and then you could go home to wherever you’re from but you cannot for the life of you remember.

The thought process is apparently showcased on your face and she grabs your hand to comfort you. You realize you’re crying. This is embarrassing.

“It’s okay,” she says. She’s so kind. She’s safety. Even with how stupidly beautiful she is, she puts you ever so slightly at ease.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. “I can’t remember anything.”

You look at the window and see the two men surveying you suspiciously.

“The guy with the porn-stache pointed a gun at me” you say. Gingerale lets out a sudden snort of laughter which she quickly subdues. Due to the look on his face, you discern that they can hear your conversation. He crinkles his nose in objection but slowly hides his mustache behind his hand, tilting his obnoxious hat over his eyes.

“Oh I think he heard me,” you say to Gingerale, then raise your voice directly to him, “Sorry, Don Juan.”

His hat tilts lower. Gingerale seems delighted.

“I’d like to do a gentle experiment if you don’t mind,” Gingerale states calmly as she pulls rubber gloves from her pocket. She sees the slightly panicked look on your face and responds quickly.

“Oh this is just to remove the IV, we’re not doing anything invasive today. Don’t worry.”

Nothing invasive TODAY?!

She continues in a gentle voice as she goes through the procedure of gently removing the needle from your arm.

“I know this sounds odd, but I’d like to bring you over to a mirror. You see, you’re the fourth person to appear and all of you have some concerning similarities.”

She painlessly removes the IV and quickly bandages the bleeding prick wound. This woman has the hands of an angel.

“None of you remember your names,” she continues, “none of you remember where you’re from, what you do, what your life is”

You think for a moment because you must remember something. Your mind stays annoyingly empty of answers.

Gingerale removes her gloves and holds her hand out to help lift you from the bed. You take hers in yours and they are excruciatingly soft. Your legs are wobbly but manageable, and she allows you to lean on her a bit when you walk, which you don’t mind so much.

She gently guides you towards the other end of the room, which holds a long mirror on the wall.

“I want you to look in the mirror to see if you recognize yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” you respond. What an odd experiment. Of course you’ll recognize yourself.

You step in front of the mirror. What looks back at you sends you flying backwards against the wall in shock.

Gingerale tries to comfort you in shushes and encouraging words, “It’s okay! You’re okay!!”

No, you are not okay. This person staring back at you can’t be you. You think it might resemble you, small bits are slightly recognizable.

But everything else looks like it had been photoshopped by an expert.

No circles under the eyes. No blemishes. Your lips are plump with a soft color. Even your eyes seem made up. You try to wipe away what looks like a light eye shadow but it’s stays in place, like it’s been tattooed. The lip color won’t even wipe off.

Your hair is… perfect. Like you had spent hours in a stylists chair. It’s styled in that accidental perfection, like you just wake up beautiful. This can’t be real.

You pull your hospital gown back in a tight dress to examine the shape underneath. No stomach bulge. A perfect hourglass figure.

This is ridiculous. No one looks like this naturally. You don’t remember anything before the forest but you know deep in your gut that you don’t look like this. Your washboard flat gut.

“Do you recognize anything at all?” Gindgerale asks softly.

“I…” you stammer helplessly, still struck by the model mirroring your movements, “I think I recognize my eyes. Maybe the shape of my face a little.”

“Okay!” She encourages, “That’s good! The others remembered some pieces of themselves but they say most of the way they look feels different.”

“Yeah, yeah, this definitely feels different,” you respond, trying again to wipe away the stained color on your lips.

You turn to her, confused and panicked. None of this makes sense. The forest, the (handsome) man with the gun, your complete lack of memory, this body- none of it makes sense.

“Why am I here?” You feel yourself start to weep again, this is pathetic but so overwhelming, your breath catches and you’re desperate. “Why is this happening? Why don’t I remember anything?! Please… you must know something, anything!”

Without thinking, your hands grab Gingerale’s shoulders. She raises her hands as if to comfort you, but the bursting open of the door interrupts any response.

“All right, darlin’, I’m gonna need you to back away”

This fucking porn-stache cowboy. He strides in like he owns the place and steps into your boundaries, forcing you to let Gingerale go and back away. You defiantly look up at his eyes, dark black pools of authoritative might, and you almost quiver until-

You’re blinded with pain. Your head swirls with what feels like barbed wire or blades or chain saws or-

You can feel yourself screaming but you hear nothing but the whirring of blades. You feel them in your scull.

You desperately try to see beyond the pain, try to push yourself as far away from the people in the room as possible. His heat, his scent, permeates your space, his hands grasping your arms like he’s trying to shake you out of it.

You finally meet his eyes-

And you see it.

You see it all.

His past, his pain, his rage, the sadness in him slowly growing into blind hatred, all the people he will sentence to death…

You watch him speak to you, his face full of concern, his hand on your cheek like he knows you as a loved one. Then he freezes like he can see what you see.

Before you finally fall unconscious, you see the words in your mind, clear as day, clear as the fear on his face. It flashes and flashes, pulsating and bloody.

Meat grinder.

And you’re gone.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal smut #pedro boys #pedro pascal character #reader insert

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medlarmeadows · 6 months

Note

Sparknotes version of qBads lore?

(us Ghosties have multiple thousand pages documents trying to put shit together soooo we don't know EVERYTHING about qBad but we know some backstory so I'll just give you the basics)

qBad was an angel, what type of rank we have no idea, however at some point a couple millennia ago he fell from Grace and became a fallen angel, aka, a demon, just not a hellborn one like qMrouse.

At some point after his fall he took on a job position as a Grim Reaper after training for centuries with one of many other Grim reapers

He's dropped tons of random lore bits about his life throughout time but they're not really relevant

I'm talking, shit like; he knew Darwin, he and Foolish were both in Pompeii when Vesuvius erupted (he was on vacation, he has no idea why Foolish was there), he witnessed the extinction of the dinosaurs when he was in heaven and had a hand in it, etc.

THEN he decided to take a vacation on Quesadilla Island of his own volition to take a temporary break from his Grim Reaper responsibilities since he hadn't had a break in centuries

Although he obviously got stuck on the island and oddly enough, he still didn't even manage to escape his responsibilities having canonically been the one to help Trump, Tilin, Juana, Bobby and Max cross over the river, to guide them into the spiritual plane.

Lore on the island wise, it's mostly a lot of little things but the I'll summarize the current storyline

When the eggs disappeared qBad began torturing himself with soul vultures, having them eat at him, which caused his soul to leak out of his body and decay.

During the nuke at the end of Purgatory qBad shielded Dapper with his body, tanking a nuke hit to the back since neither of them made it onto the boat on time.

This radiation rapidly increased qBads physical decay and for MONTHS Bad was walking around practically dead but was forcing himself to keep it together because he was still needed but eventually his physical body just gave out on him.

Because of this, qBad recently died and returned to the place he visits every time his physical body dies. Although this time he was given a chance to re-enter the heavens after millennia as a demon, however he chose to return to the mortal plane because he couldn't bear to leave 'the little ones' (all the eggs) alone.

As a high ranking demon qBad is able to die and come back without physical issues but every reincarnation he has to recollect his memories.

Also, fun fact, when he dies to something he comes back immune to the thing that killed him! qBad is canonically immune to decapitation (French revolution), being burnt at the stake (Salem witch trials), being drowned with his feet in cement (the mob), falling down stairs (we don't ask) and now the soul decay+radiation poisoning combo!

His current reincarnation remembers absolutely nothing of the past year, but he does have memories.

He remembers him and Foolish in somewhere similar to Egypt (the summer home), he also recognizes qPhil although hasn't specified how and remembers qCellbit from the Hunger Games which canonically happened 10 years before the island so he has memories but they're not up to date.

BADBOYHALO LORE!!!! THANK YOU ANON (also are we canonically married bcos im a tubbling? hehe)

roughly i was aware about q!bad's immortality plus the losing of memories when he came back, but ohohoho this gives me so much more depth

fallen angel bad? what an interesting tidbit of information. and the fact that this immortal being became so attached to the eggs that he chose to stay on the mortal plane for them

funniest bit i know is bad trying to get foolish involved in immortals lore and foolish just avoiding it like his life depends on it KEK

wait does this mean q!bad as the grim reaper saw when q!tubbo died? does it count i can't remember if q!tubbo has a soul because of Creation and all that

#medlar's asks #qsmp #qsmp lore #badboyhalo #qsmp badboyhalo #q!badboyhalo

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oracleslibrary · 4 months

Text

Bayonetta 3 Sucks and Here's Why

[Content warnings for: Gore, sexual themes. Spoiler warnings for the entirety of the Bayonetta series.]

Good evening, everyone.

I have summoned you all here to my little shop of horrors today to talk to you about witches.

When I mention 'witches,' one of the first words that pops into your head might be 'Salem.' The Salem witch trials are perhaps the most famous of all of the many, many witch trials that took place from the 1500s to the late 1800s. The witch trials of both Europe and America were a perfect example of hysteria and the fear of the other, and how that hysteria can lead to the deaths of innocent people. Witch hunts and witch trials began in the early-to-mid 1500s in Europe and around 1648 in America, with their final trials being in 1782 and 1878, respectively. Now, the victims of these trials were not witches. They were innocent, often marginalized folks who either went against the rigid status quo or merely existed as 'undesirables' and were slaughtered for it. But the witch trials have heavily influenced how we see witches in the modern day (even if some of the ideas we have nowadays have dubious origins of whether it was actually the witch trials that spawned them). They use familiars, they are in league with the devil, they have "witches' marks" which can take the place of birthmarks or scars or literally any mark that the hunters decide is evil, their hair is a large source of their magical ability. All of these things are traits we still associate with witches today.

And if any of these traits sound particularly familiar to fans of a certain game series, it's certainly no coincidence.

Before I get into the main topic of today's essay, I need to set up some backstory with the development of Bayonetta, the plots of the first two games, and an analysis of Bayonetta's character herself. It's integral to future understanding of what I'm going to have a fucking hernia over.

Bayonetta was first released in 2009, garnering positive reviews from both critics and fans and selling over a million copies worldwide. Taking inspiration from the stylishness and exaggeration of Devil May Cry, former director of PlatinumGames Hideki Kamiya wanted to focus on sexiness and stylishness with the snappy and hard-hitting gameplay of a hack-and-slash. Bayonetta herself was designed by Mari Shimazaki in conjunction with Kamiya in order to create a modern-day witch with glasses and four guns. This design and character, intentionally or not, draws a lot from these old European ideas of witches. Bayonetta's hair being the source of her power, Bayonetta having infernal contracts with demons, her being able to transform into animals as well as cats being completely calm around her--hell, even her beauty mark would have been considered a witch's mark. As well, Shimazaki pushed hard for Bayonetta to have a beehive hairdo as a modern representation of a witch's hat.

As a brief summation of the first game, Bayonetta follows the titular Umbra Witch as she goes to find the secrets of her past, as one day she awoke in a casket in a lake with no memory of who she was. As a quick note, this world has two major factions of supernatural ability: the Umbra Witches, and the Lumen Sages. The Lumen protected the light, the Umbra the dark. Bayonetta is the only known remaining Umbra Witch, as the rest were hunted and killed in the Witch Hunts. The Lumen had been defeated by the Umbra just before the Hunts began when they went to war.

Bayonetta's search brings her to the holy city of Vigrid, where she faces off against Angels with her own infernal powers as they try to stop her from getting closer to the truth. Among these adversaries is the mysterious Jeanne, who strangely enough has powers that mirror Bayonetta's perfectly, hint hint. After an unfathomable amount of property damage, Bayonetta meets a little girl named Cereza, who mistakes Bayonetta for her mom and becomes attached to her quickly. Bayonetta is less than enthused about being followed around by a toddler, but also finds that this child can see Angels, and is being hunted by them as well. Joining together with investigative journalist and most pathetic man alive Luka Redgrave, who has his own bone to pick with Bayonetta, they make it to Isla del Sol, where just--fucking everything happens at once.

Balder, the one in charge of all the Angels and the last remaining Lumen Sage, is revealed to be Bayonetta's father, Cereza is actually a time-displaced young version of herself, Bayonetta is the holder of the Left Eye of Darkness, which is used in conjunction with the Right Eye of Light to resurrect Jubileus, the Creator who is basically God, and Jeanne turns out to have been her childhood friend and fellow Umbra Witch who was brainwashed by the angels to fight for them--it's a whole thing. It's kind of absolutely fucking insane actually.

But in the end Bayonetta kills God and seemingly dies but she's okay actually don't worry about it.

Bayonetta 2 was released in 2014 on the Wii U, which was certainly. A decision. But despite the unfortunate platform, the game received rave reviews and was a massive critical success among fans and critics. The game almost didn't happen, if not for Nintendo partnering with the creative team and funding the project. The game was praised for its improvements over the original, from the lessening of insta-kill quick-time events and making them more forgiving, to easier ability to build up power with button mashing and spinning the joystick, to new weapons and powers, to new animations for which direction Bayonetta was attacking, to stronger pacing, and to more refined art direction. Gameplay remained largely unchanged, mostly because, well, it didn't really need to change. It was excellent as-is, with some new adjustments such as using magic for Wicked Weaves at the end of combos for extra damage, and generally having an easier time building up magic at all.

The plot follows Bayonetta as she goes to rescue Jeanne from Inferno after a summon gone wrong. In doing this, she goes to the water city of Noatun to reach the mountain Fimbulventr, where it is said that a gate to Inferno resides. Along the way, she meets Loki, an amnesiac child with a foul mouth and a snippy attitude who feels compelled to climb the mountain to learn who he is. All the while, Bayonetta is constantly being confronted by a Lumen Sage, which surprises her, as she killed the last one of those in the previous game. That Lumen Sage turns out to be a younger version of her father, Balder, before he went insane and evil. There's so much backstory to explain who all of these characters are and their relevance to the story, but I'll give context as needed to further explain.

Bayonetta and Balder kill God at the end again and Balder traps God's evil spirit in his body before going back in time and then going insane which leads into the events of Bayonetta 1. Stable time loop.

The plot of Bayonetta often surrounds themes of deception, misunderstandings, secrets, identity, time travel, and what it means to be. It's about family, whether by blood or by choice. It's about righting past wrongs. It's about fun and freedom and stylishness. But I'd argue one of the strongest themes in Bayonetta is love. The people you love, the places you love, the things you love. The things you'll do anything to protect. I think a lot about one of Bayonetta's quotes from the first game, when she's talking to Cereza (long before she ever knew Cereza's whole deal), and making sure that Cereza's Umbran Watch is secure:

"When you love something, never lose it. Understand, little one? You must keep it safe, close to your heart."

Bayonetta's character was a line that the crew could have very, very easily fucked up. It would have been so easy to make Bayonetta just a fanservice character, there to be sexualized without having any actual personality. But they didn't; instead, they made an incredibly distinct character with a strong personality and distinct style who simply oozes sexuality, which is never derided or seen as a bad thing. The way I've always described is that fanservice, namely bad fanservice is the camera sexualizing the character. The key component here is consent: if a character in-universe is showing off their body, then it's still fanservice, but it's not a violation of the character. Now I know what I just said is really fucking loaded because they're ultimately fictional characters, but there's something of an underlying theme of the non-consent being the main driving point of the appeal of certain types of fanservice. Y'know, a woman's clothes tearing or someone falling on her breasts, or being caught in the middle of a shower or in her underwear. (It's almost always women, for the record.) It's not always this, fanservice comes in many forms, but when you usually think about it, it's mostly likely you think of the objectification of women.

The way that Bayonetta handles fanservice is more like... instead of the camera sexualizing Bayonetta, Bayonetta is the one grabbing the camera to look at her. She's constantly posing, dancing, teasing--just doing everything she wants to for the camera. Almost everything she does is of her own will, because she clearly finds it fun and humorous. There are only a couple of occasions where the camera does sexualize her without her consent, but I'm willing to let it slide because they were the setup for or outright goofs, with exaggerated camera zooms and cartoonish sound effects. (The only exception that does make me uncomfortable are the Joys. Just. Eugh.)

But this sexuality, this femininity, is integral to the identity of the games, as well as to Bayonetta herself. She's a beautiful, sexy woman, who not only flaunts but even weaponizes her sexuality in the most insane ways possible. You don't see that a lot with characters, least of all written as well as Bayonetta.

But her character doesn't stop at her beauty and sexuality. She went through a full character arc, with growing warmer with Cereza to the point where she sings to the girl when putting her to bed, to her learning more about her past and her role in the schemes of the villain, and then pushing past this predetermined plan in order to protect the world and the people she cares about. She's witty, clever, sly, has a quick and skillful trigger finger, and can adapt to changes in her environment very quickly in order to rid of her enemies.

But she's not just stylish and awesome and whatnot. She can also mess up and make mistakes, such as her amazing expression when she accidentally crushes Enzo's car in the beginning of 1, or when she tries to blow up one of the virtues in a cool way by lighting a trail of gasoline with her gun-heel, while looking away, and it's all super cool--until the spark dies halfway through, and Bayonetta just ends up. Standing there. And she just groans and shoots the tank of gasoline normally. Or when she tries to do a cool maneuver using Loki's cards to teach him a lesson but they just fall to the ground useless. It's these moments of goofiness that really give Bayonetta a humanity to her, that shows she's not infallible or perfect, but can be just as silly as the rest of us. A personal favorite is when she goes to retrieve Cereza's doll Cheshire from one of the Virtues, and she holds it up to her ear as though it's talking to her. Like, no one is around but her, and yet she's doing something that a mom would do with her kid's toys. It's such a small thing but also very sweet--especially when Bayonetta returns the doll with a band-aid over its eye. That's such a motherly thing to do, especially when kids often see their toys as living beings.

It's with Cereza especially that a lot of Bayonetta's softer side begins to show, with her affectionately calling Cereza "little one", becoming increasingly worried when she appears to be in danger, going out of her way to do things for her--eventually culminating in her putting Cereza to bed, telling her that the nightmare is over, and that she's a strong girl. When I was typing up the script, I was starting to choke up just thinking about that scene, because it's just such a strong scene. The fondness for kids transfers to Loki as well, with her taking to him as some endearing teenage son almost, with her being legitimately worried that he might be hurt or even killed, and seems genuinely upset when he was just playing dead.

Jeanne, too, is the subject of Bayonetta's softer side. Hell, the entire plot of 2 is Bayonetta defying death itself in order to save Jeanne's soul and bring her back. The scene where Bayonetta calls for Jeanne, and actually fucking begs her to wake up, is heartbreaking. Jeanne is Bayonetta's closest confidant, with the two actually living together post-1. They're best friends, they're treasured companions, and they have a domestic life together. They were planning a Christmas party at the beginning of 2.

As well, Bayonetta's demeanor can shift to very serious when the situation calls for it, such as her genuine fury when she thinks Balder has killed Luka. Bayonetta may not say it outright, but she clearly cares a lot for the people around her, being willing to risk life and limb to protect them. Another quick thing I want to mention--whenever Luka accuses Bayonetta of killing his father (she didn't, by the way, long story), Bayonetta, unable to actually recall what happened that day, looks actually rather downcast and troubled. She actually seems to think that she might have killed Luka's father, and looks quite upset at the thought. As much as Bayonetta would like to depict herself as infallible, she cares so much, and that care is a driving force behind the games.

I stress a lot about Bayonetta's character because I think it's a core aspect of the games. The games would not be the same without Bayonetta. Bayonetta's character is baked into everything--the visuals of bleeding rose petals and butterfly shadows and a lock-on of lipstick, into the elegant and joyous lounge music, to the plot and backstories revolving around Bayonetta's past and her roles in previous events. Bayonetta herself is the core of the games. I think she's probably the biggest appeal, because her character shapes the rest of the game aspects. It just wouldn't be a Bayonetta game without Bayonetta and all of the beautiful aesthetics and unique gameplay and creative ways of torturing and killing angels that she brings.

...

So then there's Bayonetta 3.

Bayonetta 3 is... I think the perfect 'fuck you' that you could ever give a fan of a series. Bayonetta 3 spits in your face and demands that you praise it.

I want you to imagine this. It's 2017. You're watching the Game Awards for some reason. And then, a specific teaser shows up, revealing that Bayonetta 3 is in development. It's been three years since the release of 2, so you're pretty hyped about it.

And then you hear nothing about it for years.

The most that you see is a couple articles with quotes from devs that development is "going well" in 2019, but even then, you still hear nothing about it. No trailers, no teasers, no images, not even leaks, to my knowledge. Just absolutely nothing. Games take a long time to develop, sure, but usually there's teaser images or such in order to keep the game in the collective consciousness of gamers.

Cut to the Nintendo Direct of 2021, where a trailer for something begins to play. And after a while you realize Holy shit it's Bayonetta 3 oh my god this looks amazing holy shit what the fuck.

(Pour one out for Astral Chain fans, by the way.)

So now you finally have a new trailer, you have something to show that this game is tangible and real and happening. Later trailers reveal the release date: October 28th, 2022. Exactly a year ago from today assuming that I manage to get this done on time.

There was also the, uh... controversy, but I'm not getting into that today. There's plenty of coverage on the Helena Taylor thing, and I'm not really talking about the controversies surrounding the game as I am about the game itself. The only thing I'll say is: Fuck TERFs, Bayonetta says Trans Rights.

Release day comes without a hitch, and what you get is... hoogh. Okay where do I start.

Lemme start with the things I like about the game, because I don't hate it, and it mechanically isn't a bad game.

Jeanne hands-down has the best segments in the game. Like mechanically they're not the beeeest, but the amount of fun that they have with it is great. These segments follow Jeanne as you break into a top-secret facility, complete with a spy intro (that does unfortunately play in its entirety at the beginning of each segment with no option to skip) and kickass music. It's absolutely absurd and I love it, because Jeanne is so into the spy shit. She has one-liners to herself, if she gets smushed by an elevator she does the cartoonish thing where she gets flattened and flies about like paper, it's just really good. (There's a thing where a homunculus can go into a shower while she's showering and she kills it which is kinda weird but still pretty in-line with a Bayo game so.) Especially since we actually get to hear her basically do a magical girl speech and transformation into Cutie J, her actual genuine superhero alter ego, and get to play as her as an invincibility power. It's genuinely an extremely characterized segment and is a delight to go through. Jeanne is a loser and that's so important to me. She breakdances after killing an enemy.

Rodin's gimmick this time is great. The pizza truck is just. Perfection. He's as cool as ever when he's not. Y'know. Being a dick to Enzo after Enzo seemingly loses his wife and family that he seems to love very much. (I'm gonna get to that.)

Viola is hands-down the best character, she's such a try hard who's doing her goddamn best and her VA really put her all into the role. It's almost over-acted, which seems to be intentional, as Viola is very expressive with her hands and body as she talks. She's also a complete loser and I think we need more failgirls in media. I just wish that the narrative didn't fuck her over at every turn.

The gameplay's pretty solid, with the demon summoning being pretty fun. It's a shame that torture attacks aren't as common and only can be used when an enemy is stunned, but I also do appreciate how they don't stop the gameplay or force you to do button-mashing in order to execute them when they *do* appear. It keeps the flow going and is just overall a nice fix. The combat still feels good, the level-ups are a tad strange since in previous games boosts to health and magic were automatic but it's not that big of a deal. The new forms are also fun, and even if the spider is a little hard to control, I still absolutely loved being able to just swing across the whole map.

The music is absolutely great as per usual, though--okay I need to have a sidebar about Moonlight Serenade real quick. I know this is the section where I talk about what I like but I just - I need you to understand my vision.

So. I don't like Moonlight Serenade that much. BUT IT'S FOR SUCH A SPECIFIC REASON. The song never feels like it has a proper conclusion. Like - ok I might be wrong abt this because I know shit about fuck when it comes to music theory but if you listen to the chorus of "fly me to the moon" and "moon river", you feel like that is a complete phrase, right? Like the buildup happens, and then the last line of the chorus sounds like a satisfactory end to that part.

Like the song could stop there and it wouldn't leave you musically hanging, it's called a cadence i believe. But moonlight serenade doesn't have that. It doesn't have that musical conclusion and thus constantly feels incomplete, it feels like I'm waiting for smth that never comes and it makes it annoying to listen to. Which is weird, because in the Frank Sinatra version that they use in the credits, the song does eventually have a cadence at the very end, so it's not like the song just can't be performed that way! Just - here's the ends to the three main themes put together.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND.

It's such a small and niche thing to be upset over, I know, but it just drives me insane. Moonlight Serenade is like your brain building up an itch that it never scratches.

Regardless--the music is still really good, as always for a Bayonetta game. Always with the upbeat jazzy tracks, and Viola's theme "Ghost" absolutely fucks. Also Phenomenal Uncertainty may or may not have made me cry the first time I heard it.

In terms of graphics, the game is, for the most part, very pretty! The particle effects are gorgeous, the animation of human bodies in the teal goo that create the Homunculi is really cool, and gives a brilliant hint as to what the Homunculi actually are before you learn it in-story. I also really like the stained-glass thing motif they have going on with anything fae related, it's really striking.

Something appreciated is also Naive Angel Mode, which actually is a setting you can turn on to censor things more. Things like gore and nudity are covered up or changed, which can allow for more people to feel comfortable playing it, because while nudity isn't something to be shamed... it can still be really embarrassing for people. Some of its censors are simple, like Bayonetta's butterfly form having covers over her breasts, or Bayonetta's outfit not being removed whenever she summons demons. Other changes are... Rodin's donut cigar and Bayonetta pulling a tomato out of her chest. There's arguments to be made one whether or not this is actually helpful as a censorship tool, especially since they don't censor out any swearing and the tomato thing is absolutely a scene killer... but it's also really fucking funny.

... Okay I think that's all I got. Anyway time for the bad.

I'm going to talk about a lot of miscellaneous things in succession, such as graphics and gameplay, in this section, while the story and especially the ending will get their own sections, because dear god.

Since I ended the last section with the visuals, let's start this section with them. The thing about Bayonetta 3 is that it's very... sweaty. If you look at Enzo and Luka, they just look... meaty. And I hate saying that. Those words make my bones itch. What's strange is that the previous games didn't look like that, which leads me to believe this is because of the idea of "next gen graphics" or whatever, trying to make it look more realistic, when instead it looks like meat.

The facial expressions can be a little dopey, and the mouth movements really don't fit the words being said most of the time. Granted, that's always been a thing, but considering that all cutscenes are animated this time rather than being mixed in with still slideshows of renders, it stands out more. Textures in certain areas look very flat, even when they shouldn't be, like the roses on the banner in the beginning--others are an insanely low resolution, like the cracked glass and concrete in Tokyo. These textures are directly next to things that are not low-resolution, which makes them stand out in the worst way.

As I mentioned with Naive Angel mode earlier, it does have things that could really ruin a dramatic scene for you, like the tomato thing. It's making fun of the people who use it by dampening their experience. Like, I don't think people are being prudish or something for not wanting to see such intense gore but still wanting to enjoy an experience. Because it's not like they can get gameplay like this anywhere else, Bayonetta's combat is very unique to itself. There's a lot of nuance and argument to be had over censorship laws, and Western (specifically America's) discomfort with nudity even artistically, whether this type of censorship is made to made it more marketable or more accessible or possibly both, whether it should even have it because it makes no secret that it's a mature rated game for a reason--there's a lot to be said about it, so I at least wanted to bring it up here. But also I can completely understand them adding something like this because, you know, Bayonetta was in fucking Smash Bros. That exposes her to a much wider age range, and probably has many more young people interested in her series.

Another thing related to this is the mockery of Easy Mode, and how no matter how well you do in a section, no matter if you have amazing combos and take no damage, you will never get a rank higher than clear. In the past, while some battles wouldn't appear on easier difficulties, you could still at least get higher than clear. This? Fucking sucks. Accessibility is really such an important thing in games, because listen: some people are physically incapable of playing video games as well as an abled person. Easier modes can help those who physically can't do what other modes demand of them. Some people want to get through a game quickly because they want to go through the story.

Also some people are just fucking bad at video games, man. I don't think we should punish them for that.

Easy Mode punishes the player for picking it by delegating them to the lowest rank possible. No matter what you do, unless you play the game on its terms, you'll never be good enough. This can really alienate a subset of the audience who were interested in playing it until they realized that the game was basically making fun of you for needing help. Which is stupid and gross and can we PLEASE stop doing this.

Wartrain Gouon was easily the worst of the demons by far. It's so hard to control and get it to the path you want due to the rigidity of its tracks. The clock tower was so non-memorable that I can't even remember what it does.

The demon sections suck. They just do. In concept riding Gomorrah down toppling skyscrapers is sick as fuck, but the controls are nightmarish. Same with Phantasmarae's section where you have to jump from building to building. You have too much momentum due to size, which makes controlling it really hard. Accurate to the size and speed of the creatures? Yes. Fun to play? NO.

The Sin Gomorrah fights are such bullshit. It's rock paper scissors. Bite beats shield, shield beats slam, slam beats bite. If you're still learning the movements of the enemy in order to figure out what they're doing and counter it before it hits you, or god forbid you press the button just a little too late, you get hit. And this fight is probably the slowest of anything I've ever seen. If you fuck up, you wait around 10 seconds in order to do it again. And you have to watch the fight move at the speed of moss in the meantime. It was actually painful to go through.

The others weren't awful. Madama Butterfly's section was okay, I had no idea how the fuck to control anything though. Baal's was the best by far, as it's a fun rhythm game that shakes up the gameplay but still feels at home in a Bayonetta title.

Okay - let's talk story. Finally.

Bayonetta 3's story is something that gets worse the longer you think about it. It's almost insulting how horrible the entire thing was, but especially the ending. Let's go through the plot quick. I'm gonna summarize most of this as a refresher for those who played it and a baseline for those who didn't. I'll be leaving out a lot of the details which I'll bring up later because I don't want this summary to be seventeen hours long.

The game opens up with a fight with Bayonetta as seen in the first game, albeit with her beauty mark in a different spot. Considering this game is about multiverses, we can safely assume this isn't the same Bayo from the first game. She's fighting against an exceptionally powerful foe, one who's shrouded in shadow and can manipulate the environment as though it were clay. We have a monologue overlaying the fight as per tradition, but instead of being Antonio or Luka, we hear a female voice, who we later learn is Viola. (This is kinda clever but it's cleverness based on a plot point that sucks but anyway.)

This foe manages to beat Bayonetta down as Viola talks about 'truth', another thing I'll get into later. She's doing very badly, and eventually gets almost crucified in rock. We then watch as Bayonetta is brutally murdered, and a girl named Viola is given the last 'world bridge.' The man who gives it to her is blown into chunks, and the girl manages to escape just as the shadowy figure tries to kill her.

And that's how it starts! Bayonetta fucking dies!

It doesn't get better from here.

We then cut to New York, where Bayonetta is bullying Enzo as per usual. She's apparently supposed to be meeting someone on a cruise liner, where she is eventually set upon by bizarre teal-and-silver enemies who cause a massive tsunami to head towards the city. These enemies begin to destroy everything and everyone without regard, seemingly trying to eradicate the entire area. Viola falls out of a portal from the sky into Enzo's car, Jeanne shows up with a cute little reference to her first appearance in Bayo 1, Rodin comes by, and eventually they all manage to escape to the Gates of Hell while the rest of the world above is seemingly erased. Unfortunately, Bayonetta wasn't strong enough to even put a dent in the massive army that appeared.

Rodin and Viola reveal that the strange creatures are Homunculi, manmade bioweapons that are actually part human. Their leader is named Singularity, and his ultimate goal appears to be to erase as many universes as possible to gather enough power to wipe out the Trinity of Realities in one go. We don't know why, we just know that he's trying to create something called the Alphaverse, which is essentially all the power of the universes pulled into one world. Viola has been trying to get through the worlds to collect Chaos Gears from other worlds, which if collected and given to a man named Sigurd, should be able to stop Singularity somehow. Jeanne goes off to find Sigurd, while Bayonetta and Viola go off to the Lumen-Umbra island of Thule, which was an ancient hub of study for the multiverse. Something of note is that Viola showcases her abilities to use Witch Time, as well as having a demon companion named Cheshire who remarkably resembles a doll and has pretty childlike behaviors. This will be important later.

The majority of the story is then spent going to different timelines and attempting to get the Chaos Gear from them, all while fighting the Homunculi. You visit Tokyo, Ancient China, Ancient Egypt, and France, and run into the various Bayonettas and Jeannes (and in one instance, Bayonetta's mother Rosa). Unfortunately, though Bayonetta obtains the Chaos Gears and some new weapons and demon companions, she is unable to save any of the worlds she goes to, and even has to mercy-kill one of her alternates when she gets assimilated into the Homunculi.

Jeanne, meanwhile, goes to rescue Dr. Sigurd, a man who's grafted technology to his skin and essentially lives within a test tube. As well, Bayonetta and Viola get set upon by a mysterious wolf creature who attacks them, and Luka shows up sometimes and does very little and then leaves.

So - I'm gonna just drop a lot of shit on you, because all of this is insane.

First of all fearies exist. No, there's been no evidence of their existence beforehand. They just do. Viola meets a variant of Luka named Lukaon who is a fae prince. Sure. Also that werewolf? It's Luka. It's because of something I'll explain later.

So when the crew has the Chaos Gears and Sigurd, Bayonetta and Viola go to the Alphaverse to face Singularity, while Jeanne stays behind to guard Sigurd. Turns out, however, that in the Alphaverse, the real Sigurd's corpse is hooked up to a machine, and the 'Sigurd' back with Jeanne is actually Singularity, who killed and replaced the original Sigurd. Singularity then kills Jeanne and absorbs her power as he had with all the previous Jeannes and Bayonettas, and traps Bayonetta and Viola in the Alphaverse while he makes a universe of his own creation.

Luka shows up to help them, and they escape to fight Singularity.

And thus begins the most laborious, horrible endings I have ever experienced in my undisclosed amount of years.

The fight with Singularity is, and I do not exaggerate, seven phases. Stage one is the rock-paper-scissors fight with Sin Gomorrah, two is against Singularity Balance, three is against the minibosses that Balance summons, four is a replica of the opening fight, five is a fight alongside the Bayonettas from 1 and 2, six is the fight when all the Bayonettas combine, and seven, finally, is alongside Luka in his werewolf form.

This shit takes forty minutes to an hour to get through, including cutscenes. It's during this marathon of repetition that we learn a few things: namely, that Viola is the daughter of an alternate Bayonetta and Luka. I'll get to that. Though Singularity was defeated, Bayonetta had pushed herself to her absolute limit, and her Umbran Watch had finally shattered. This leads to the summoned Gomorrah turning on her, her contract with it being up and Inferno going to collect. Viola, knocked unconscious, is starting to get sucked into a black hole that Singularity left behind, and Luka chooses to save his alternate daughter rather than Bayonetta. Bayonetta's soul is raked from her body, and the demons of Inferno start to drag her down. Luka manages to get himself over to Bayonetta, and holds her soul in his arms as the two of them essentially have a love confession. They reassure themselves that Viola will carry on their legacy, and share a kiss as they're pulled into Inferno. Viola cries out for them in heartbreak, before breaking down into a sobbing wreck.

We move to Viola out on a rock drifting in a black sea, unsure of where she is, before a shadow of Bayonetta appears with a Kraken demon that was actually summoned at the beginning but don't worry about it because it didn't matter. Viola then fights against the shadow of her mother, finally having control over her own Faerie powers as shown in a previous section. Before vanishing, Bayonetta tells Viola that this was her last lesson, and that she's grown so much, and 'perhaps the gift of a new name is in order.'

Cut back to New York, which is seemingly returned to normal. Viola, wearing a scarf and a pair of glasses, comes into the Gates of Hell where Rodin and Enzo are. Enzo's talking to his wife on the phone before leaving, implying that those in this universe have been restored. Based on Rodin's words, he's still in contact with Bayonetta and Luka in Inferno, and he's watching over Viola in the meantime. She takes a job from him, and Rodin mentions that he forgot to call her by the family name, "Bayonetta."

Viola stumbles over herself one last time before ushering in the credits with a pose.

... Alright fellas, grab your jaws off the floor and put your tits back on, let's tackle this nightmare.

The thing about Bayonetta 3 is that you just have no idea where to begin. There's so much fucking wrong with it that you really just can't figure out how to look at it right. It's like looking at a pile of glass that melted wrong.

The game's opening also sets a tone of despair and futility, because you play Bayonetta's last moments before being brutally murdered. If Bayonetta, two-time god killer, was beaten by this enemy without even a scratch on the opposing party, just how powerful are they? This is actually a pretty common trope, where in order to show how powerful a new foe is, they have them go up against a character that the audience knows is extremely powerful, and have them get absolutely trounced.

I suppose we'll start with some of the most glaring issues, such as the tone. The tone of Bayonetta 3 is much darker and more serious than that of the previous games, obvious from the moment you start up the game with the start menu looking like This. You have to press a button to get to the familiar logo, but even the logo is a bit edgier--almost literally, with the sharp cracked 3.

But the reason it doesn't work here is because this immediately places Singularity almost as overpowered. Like, Bayonetta was able to kill God. Twice. Albeit, this was with help, but she was still able to hold her own for a significant amount of time. To see this almost immediately gives the audience a feeling of dread, because if Bayonetta can't even land a scratch on this guy, who can?

Things don't get better as the story goes on. Out of the four timelines you go to visit, you save none of them. You get to watch as all of them are essentially eaten by the Homunculi. You get to watch as people die while fighting futily against the Homunculi. The Homunculi are hard-hitting, fast, and innumerable. There are just so many of them, and their units are massive. They're explicitly made to destroy. It is a massive spike in the stakes from the previous two games. It's like if Jubileus had been summoned at the beginning of Bayonetta 1 rather than at the end, or if Aesir had reformed at the beginning of 2. With the Homuculi, it doesn't matter how many you fight. They can regenerate, they can reform, and their most destructive units are about as big as a fucking city. And you don't make a dent in them, no matter what you do. The worlds are gone. The Bayonettas are dead. You can't save any of them.

And by the end, your own Jeanne is dead, and Bayonetta is dead. We don't hear anything about the other worlds. While the other Bayos' and Jeannes' souls are released during the final fight with Singularity, they don't appear to be fully there. They're translucent and glitchy, and they all disappear upon being hit once. Jeanne even reappears to help for a moment before also disappearing again. We never hear anything about Jeanne ever again, by the way. She's just killed in the most anticlimactic way possible, shows up for a second, and then disappears without another word. And we don't know what happened with the other worlds! We have no reason to think that they were returned to normal! And yet, Bayonetta still gets to be around, albeit indirectly. This really just gives the entire game a feeling of "why should I even bother, it's not going to do anything anyway." For all the talk of hope and truth the game spews, the ending is pretty fucking bleak.

On top of that, the majority of the game you just... watch people die. They're not angels, they're not demons, they're regular human beings fighting a war they have no chance of winning, no matter how hard they try. And watching swathes of human beings get wiped out is a much different experience than just watching angels or demons. It makes the entire thing feel just so dark. Because, again, we have no reason to believe that any of these worlds were restored. Singularity makes an off-hand comment about how the Bayonettas fighting back is 'reversing' what he's done, but immediately after one of the Bayos says how they're 'the only ones who made it this far' so like. Which is it?

The darker tone is conveyed through the visuals, also. Everything in this game feels... really desaturated. Like, the past games were bright and vibrant and colorful, but this game feels really gray, no doubt helped by the constant presence of the matter-eating fog.

Bayonetta games are no stranger to more serious topics and scenes, but they still had a ton of levity and fun between it all. There really isn't much of that at all in this game. It's just bleakness after bleakness with a lot of cool visuals thrown into the mix. Which like, yeah, surfing on Gomorrah is cool in concept, but Bayonetta never looks like she's having any fun. She looks so serious and angry half the time. One of the main appeals about Bayonetta as a character is how much fun she has, whether it's dancing or performing acrobatics or torturing angels. But while we get plenty of one-liners from her, it never looks like she's having the good time she usually has. And you could argue that it's because the tone of the plot is what causes her to be more serious, but I personally see that as a cue to lighten the story up a little. The only exception to this is the France level, because while I think randomly adding assimilation to the Homunculi's abilities is bullshit--the Homunculi taking over the French army and making them dance is the kind of shit I expected from the whole game. That was golden.

On the subject of Bayonetta's character, it really feels like they just stripped her of it all and gave her some facsimile of what it used to be. I mentioned earlier about her silliness and her mistakes and her moments of softness with others, but all of that is just devoid from 3 in favor of making Bayonetta this constantly cool, infallible person. She has apparent soft scenes with Luka, but I'll get to that whole thing in a bit. Just know that it's completely unearned. There isn't a moment where she has moments of willing vulnerability with anyone, especially Viola, who you think would be the most important person she would have that with. Instead, she's constantly undermining Viola's agency, insulting her and belittling her, and just never grows close to her like she did with Cereza or Loki. I think the game thinks that Bayonetta being Viola's blood mother means that they automatically have a connection, but--no. That sucks. Fuck off.

The argument can be made of, "Oh this is clearly a different Bayonetta than before! It's normal that she'd act a little different!" And considering that 3's Bayonetta isn't familiar with Phantasmarae, who 1's Bayo had summoned back in the first game, it's safe to assume that it isn't the same one. In fact it's implied that this is a grown-up Cereza from game 1, with the same braids, the younger version of Bayonetta looking almost exactly like Cereza if just a bit older, 1's Bayo telling her "you didn't cry while I was gone, did you?" All of that implies this is the Cereza we've seen from a changed timeline. But this isn't properly conveyed to the audience until the very end where 1 and 2 evidently take place in different timelines (don't worry about it). And even then, if it is because of a character difference, that still doesn't correct the tonal issue or the problems with how she treats Viola versus what the game says their relationship is.

And while talking about Bayonetta... we can't put off The Big Thing™ any longer. So let's talk about Adam and Eve.

Bayonetta makes no secret of its inspirations from Christianity and Judaism. The idea of angels, heaven, hell, demons, and especially the hierarchy of angels inspired by the Jewish hierarchy. But the thing about Bayonetta is that the series has only ever made one reference to the Christian god, that being at the very beginning of 1, where Bayonetta is reading scripture in order to summon angels. But the angels don't serve the Christian god, they serve Paradiso and Jubileus. The actual creation of the world and the Trinity of Realities has nothing to do with Christianity, it has to do with Aesir, Jubileus, and presumably Queen Sheba.

But Singularity refers to Arch-Eves and Arch-Adams, which across all universes are Bayonetta and Luka. Implying some cosmic force brings them together romantically.

I honestly feel like I don't even need to explain why this sucks, but I will anyway.

Most folks know the story of Adam and Eve. First man and woman, the Garden of Eden, the temptation of the snake, the Tree of Knowledge, and disobedience leading to eternal sin (at least according to Christian texts). But in Bayo 3, the only relation to the actual story that Bayo and Luka have are just... they're a man and a woman. So obviously they end up together. At most, maybe it's referring to Singularity trying to play God and Bayonetta and Luka defying him... but the analogy doesn't entirely work because Singularity isn't God, and there are also non-gendered characters from the Bible that could have been used.

The Arch-Eves refer to the one person within a world that's keeping it all together; if Singularity kills them and absorbs their power, then that universe will start to collapse. I don't think the same applies to the Arch-Adams so I don't even know why they're here. The idea that Bayonetta is, in every universe, the most important person, is dumb. It really is. Bayonetta is powerful. She is the holder of the Left Eye of the World. She's saved the world twice over. But she's still just another person--hell, the second game makes a point to stress that she's still part human. That's part of what makes her so strong--because she has humanity. But the idea of Arch-Eves really just... makes her this cosmic protagonist who's the most important person in all the worlds who are literally the only thing holding them all together. Why? Never explained! You just have to accept it!

Lukas across the worlds being Arch-Adams is also dumb. Literally why. Also speaking of Luka, he has faerie blood for some reason! Also there are faeries but I'll get to that! That's why he can transform into a werewolf, because all of the residual energy from the dead Arch-Adams awakened his faerie powers.

God this game fucking sucks dude.

(Sidebar, I read this section out to my fiancee who only knows the plot of Bayo 1, explicitly because I thought it would be funny, and he genuinely did not believe I was telling him the truth. He looked at me and said that he thinks I made this up to fuck with him. Also he said that Lukaon looks like a Genshin character.)

So. I feel like I don't need to say this, but Bayonetta and Luka getting together is fucking stupid.

While this is a different version of Bayonetta than the previous games, the romance hinges on the interactions the two had in the previous games, 1 especially. But if this is a different Bayonetta, then this is essentially the first time we're seeing these two specific characters interact. Which honestly makes it worse. The two of them barely have any screentime with each other, leaving their chemistry about as basic as fucking bleach. Sure, they flirt with each other, but players are primed by past games to know that Bayonetta doesn't really mean it, and mostly just does it to tease and fluster Luka. So it becomes very strange when it turns out yes, actually, she does mean it! Don't worry about why!

To see the two of them essentially confess their love for each other and kiss as they're dragged into Inferno feels so undeserved because their entire relationship was so underdeveloped it was like a sandlot. Just - completely barren. It just feels so unnecessary in a series like this. When I said earlier that Bayonetta was about love, I didn't mean making the female protagonist and a male character of mild importance kiss like Barbie dolls because they're within the same proximity. Luka was barely in the previous game, so him gaining such a huge role feels strange and almost undeserved, because in terms of the actual plot, he doesn't do anything. He just turns into a werewolf to be a couple boss fights. And I still don't understand what the point of the werewolf and faerie shit is! The faerie stuff I think was solely to set up Origins, because to my knowledge, nothing in the previous games even alluded to such a thing.

I'd also like to bring up, ah... a certain thing about the relationship, assuming that this is the same Cereza from 1. Now I want to say that I don't think it's problematic or whatever, they're both consenting adults so it's whatever, but... It's still really weird how Bayonetta ends up with the alternate version of a man that she knew when she was 6, who has the same name, face, and mannerisms as that man, and who calls her the same nickname that the other Luka had called her child self. It's not pedophilic by any stretch, but it just leaves the slightest bad aftertaste in your mouth, like eating day-old olives.

That brings us to a big point of contention with the game: Viola. Now I personally like Viola a lot, I think her character is funny and a perfect encapsulation of a try-hard teenager trying to establish herself. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if a lot of people who find her 'annoying' would think she's endearing if she were a male character. People just really can't handle teenage girls having flaws. But Viola gets the short end of the stick so fucking bad in the game. One, she's constantly the punching bag, both narratively and comedically. Some of the stuff is pretty funny, like Bayonetta landing in a cool pose as Viola and her demon companion Cheshire crash into the ground immediately next to her. Others seem to be unnecessary, such as her ass setting on fire and having to control her as she cartoonishly runs into the nearest body of water, or her getting dehydrated in the desert and having to scavenge for water as Cheshire (yes that actually happens). And some are just cruel, like her constantly losing every time she tries to fight.

Viola just isn't allowed to win. She's not allowed to even have a moment of looking cool, she's not allowed to fight bosses on her own despite her clear strength and power, she's not allowed to have a lick of respect from anyone, let alone her own mother Bayonetta. No matter how many times she tells her her name, Bayonetta never uses it until the very end when she's dying or already dead. And immediately after doing so, she instead gives her a new name, her old name. To paraphrase my dear friend Simon, "Viola sucks. You suck. You know who doesn't suck? Bayonetta. You're her now."

No matter how many times she spells out her name, no one listens. The only fight she wins on her own is the very last one, where she's stripped of the identity that she's fought so hard to establish by being forced into the shadow of her parents. She doesn't even get a moment to help during the final boss fight. I honestly feel like I need to stress this point: the secondary player character of this game doesn't even get to help you during the final boss fight. The moment she tries, and the moment her theme starts up, Singularity just tosses her aside, and that's it. She's done. Fuck you for trying, Viola.

It's honestly sad to see a character with such interesting potential as Viola be constantly fucked over by the narrative because they made her the designated punching bag. This might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't... hate the idea of Viola being the daughter of an alternate Bayonetta. Not with Luka, god no, but just in general. Maybe biological, maybe adopted. It feels like something of a natural progression of the motherly themes in the previous games, if Bayonetta had acted like a mother to this child at all throughout the game. But I can see some version of Bayonetta finding this child out on her own, because her parents had been killed or something, and maybe there was something supernatural about her. I can see that version of Bayonetta realizing that this child has no one, and mortals weren't going to understand how to care for a child like that. So, that version of Bayonetta took Viola in as her own, maybe raising her alongside Jeanne and Rodin while passing down the Umbran Arts to Viola as a way to keep Viola safe and to keep the Umbra alive. But when Viola's home dimension is destroyed and her mother is gone, she goes to 3's Bayonetta and struggles to accept that this is technically a stranger, even as this Bayonetta starts to become fond of her and act much like her own mother. Especially if this is actually Cereza from 1, then she can return the kindness that her own 'mummy' had given to her when she was displaced.

But that would mean that Bayonetta wouldn't get to kiss Luka and we simply can't live without that.

I want to touch briefly on another point of contention surrounding this aspect of the game, and I don't want to get too into it, but I would be remiss to not mention it. A lot of people were upset that Bayonetta ended up with Luka and not Jeanne, saying that it was queer erasure or queerbaiting, making Bayonetta "straight." There's... honestly actually a lot to talk about here.

For those unaware, 'queerbaiting' is defined as "a marketing technique involving intentional homoeroticism or suggestions of LGBTQ+ themes intended to draw in an LGBTQ+ audience, without explicit inclusion of openly LGBTQ+ relationships, characters, or people." Dean and Castiel of Supernatural are an example of queerbaiting I don't care what the finale says. Sherlock and Watson from BBC's Sherlock are an example of queerbaiting. These pairings were constantly teased and hinted at throughout their shows' runtimes, with people in-show talking about how they're obviously in love with each other and them showing their devotion for each other--but don't worry, they're not gay.

Note that this is different from queercoding, which is when the authors intentionally put queer subtext into a character or work as a whole, but can't confirm anything in-story due to demands of producers, publishers, or society at large. A big reason for queercoding starting in the US was the Hayes Code, which in essence banned anything considered 'immoral', which queer people were at the time.

Homophobia aside, it's hard to say whether or not Bayonetta and Jeanne are queerbaiting, queercoded, or just have a close connection that fans like to interpret as romantic. Now don't get me wrong, I absolutely think Bayonetta is queer--Bayonetta is asexual and I will die on this hill--but I honestly couldn't parse whether or not any subtext between the two was intentional. Kamiya has only referred to Bayo and Jeanne as a couple in the sense of a pair, not a romantic couple, and some nude art was made by the character designer Mari Shimazaki more for artistic nudity rather than erotic nudity. As a queer woman myself, I personally don't see either queerbaiting or queercoding. I think that any potential queer readings are just that: readings. I don't think any of it was intentional.

Also people attracted to both men and women exist people for fuck's sake.

A quick aside to talk about faeries. I literally don't know why they're here. I don't know why they exist in this game if not to set up Origins, and I don't know why they exist in there, either. It's such a strange choice to make when nothing at all in the past games has set up the existence of the fae. We barely learn anything about them, and outside of being power-ups for Luka and Viola, they're essentially non-entities. They didn't need to exist and I don't know why they do.

Now let's talk about one of the worst aspects of the game: the villain, Singularity. If your villain sucks, I think that's a massive blow to your game, and Singularity is probably one of the worst villains I've ever seen. His existence in the Bayonetta world just... doesn't make any sense. Did you know he was an artificial human, essentially a computer program that became self-aware and then murdered every single human in his world? No? You shouldn't, because it's ONLY AVAILABLE IN THE SUPPLEMENTARY MATERIAL.

The thing about past games, and hell even games in general, is that you don't want to leave crucial bits of information hidden away in the files for your players to go find and read. In the previous games, it was all supplemental; it was notes on the structures and customs of the Umbra and Lumen, about magic and potion-making and architecture. It was all stuff that would have bloated the narrative if they were put into the gameplay proper, but are fun reads for those who want to get a little more information on them.

But that piece of information? That's Singularity's origin story. We shouldn't have to read the manual to get a key piece of character information.

Especially since, we still don't know why he's doing all of this. Balder was trying to resurrect Jubileus because he was a religious zealot driven insane by the soul of Loptr inside of him. Loptr wanted to become whole again and was literally an evil side of a god who wanted to return to the power he had before. The younger Balder wanted vengeance for his slain lover. All of this was present and available in the story, giving you an understanding of who these people are and what they're doing here.

Singularity... I genuinely don't know. He became aware of the multiverse and decided to destroy it to consolidate the power of all the worlds into one in order to "impose his single truth" over it. I don't know what the fuck that means, and I'll get to the whole 'truth' thing later. Singularity is a nothing villain. He has no substantial motivation behind his actions. His existence as a creation of humans, of modern humans at that, also feels completely out of place in a game series focused on the divine. There's nothing divine in nature about the Homunculi. They're all technologically based in hierarchy, design, and origin, and it really stands out against the angels and demons.

You wanna know how to fix this? Just make Singularity trying to become a god. Maybe being an artificial human, he thought he had a chance of ruling over the World of Chaos as a manmade god. Maybe he was intentionally made to do that! Then it would explain why the Homunculi look like that, they're trying to mimic angels!

But that's not what happened. Instead we get computers I guess.

Also I'd argue this game plays into the evil disabled person trope since Singularity-as-Sigurd is in a mobility aid that is basically an electric wheelchair so thanks for that, game.

Sidenote, something that bothers me about this is that, like... the demons and angels are fucking nowhere to be seen. Their planes of realities are also at risk here, and yet angels only show up in optional fights that you really have to go out of your way to find. I don't think any demon enemies show up at all besides the summoned Kraken. You'd think that like, something interesting would be that the angels and demons have to actually work together in order to protect themselves and their own realities, but they're just fucking off and letting Singularity take ove the multiverse, even though it's explicitly stated that he's trying to wipe out the entire Trinity of Realities.

Let's move on to the ending, mostly from a gameplay perspective. The ending sucks. It's one of the worst things I've ever experienced. Namely, because it's too long and is the same shit over and over again. As I mentioned before, Singularity's fight has seven stages. That is absurdly long, even by Bayonetta standards. And at the very least, past final bosses have been broken up with unique gameplay, enemies, and environments.

For example, in 1, you play as Jeanne as she motorbikes up a rocket and eventually runs up it in order to get to Bayonetta. Then, as Jubileus is almost resurrected, you fight her in a giant space sphere while she constantly throws galaxies at you, completely shifts the environment, and transforms you into a helpless child. Then, you have a stage where you combat Jubileus face-to-face, capping it off with summoning essentially what seems to be the Queen of Inferno herself, Queen Sheba, to take care of Jubileus. Then, there's a short segment where you fly Jubileus' soul into the sun. And finally, you destroy the pieces of Jubileus' body before they plummet to Earth. That's still long, mind you, don't get me wrong. But the segments vary in length and style. There's a stage where you need to reach a goal in time, there's fighting, there's that segment where you have to avoid hitting all the planets in the solar system until you knock Jubileus into the sun, and then there's a segment where you have to destroy everything before time runs out.

Outside of the first stage of Singularity's boss fight, it's just the same shit over and over and over again. There's another Sin Gomorrah fight which is again just rock-paper-scissors, and also to be perfectly honest it's pretty cheap to do the same trick with Sin Gomorrah again when past games have had some twist on it, or at least something unique to summon. Instead it's basically just the exact same fight as when you used Sin Gomorrah the first time. No changes, nothing to adapt to, nothing unique to this boss. It's the exact same.

Then you move into space, which admittedly is pretty neat even if it's not entirely new ground, and you fight Singularity in face-to-face combat on the moon. Pretty basic. Then he summons minibosses for you to fight, or at least strong enemies with big health bars. Again, really basic. There's nothing here that's making it stand out. There's no explosive kind of finale, it's just really boring. It's just whittling down one giant health bar after another with nothing new to differentiate the fights.

And then you watch a cutscene where all of the Bayonettas that Singularity had absorbed into himself are released, and they help our Bayonetta in kicking the shit out of Singularity. Which is fun to see, sure, but it's just a cutscene. You don't get to play as any of these Bayonettas. You only watch as the cool and unique thing happens on screen. And then it just immediately ends when Singularity wipes them all away. And then Jeanne shows up, and maybe you think that you're going to play as Bayonetta fighting alongside Jeanne again! But it's still just a cutscene! The next time you actually take control of Bayonetta, it's in a one-to-one recreation of the opening fight.

The next two sections are honestly the best part of the fight and I mean that completely unironically. These are the sections where 1 and 2's Bayonettas appear, and then they combine into one. Does it make any sense that 1 and 2 are different Bayonettas when the story makes it clear that they're the same person? Nope! Does it make sense that they just combine? No! But I don't care this fucking rules!

There's something called Rule of Cool, which is basically 'this doesn't make sense and shouldn't work, but it's really cool, so it's whatever.' It's a type of suspension of disbelief that prioritizes fun and fantasy over logic. Bayonetta games thrive on this concept, where no, it shouldn't make sense that Bayonetta should be able to talk to an Angel in the middle of a tornado, or headbutt a building, but we don't care, because it's fucking cool.

But then it just keeps going. And then the absolute final phase is... alongside werewolf Luka. Which just feels so fucking hollow in comparison to the weight that the previous sections had. That's a big issue with this ending, there are so many points where it felt like it could have ended that it just became a cycle of 'what do you mean there's more?!'

You'd think that the section with all the Bayos would be the final one, maybe you'd get to play as all of them in succession in order to round out the story, it was supposedly all about their timelines after all, and get some personal revenge on Singularity while having your mastery over the various weapons and demons tested. But it keeps going. Then with Jeanne you might think, 'oh, it'll be a parallel to 1 where you work with Jeanne to beat the final boss.' But it keeps going. Then you might think, 'oh, this is a recreation of the beginning, but Bayo's probably going to pull through when her other counterpart couldn't!' But it keeps going. Then you get to the section where the other Bayos appear and they combine, and you think, 'okay this HAS to be the ending, it's a perfect place to end both the battle and Bayonetta's story, by playing as all three at once.' But it KEEPS. GOING.

Every time the ending keeps going it cheapens the sections that came before it. There were so many points where it could have, and should have, stopped, and it instead ended on just the lamest final fight. There's nothing unique about the fight alongside werewolf Luka except that you're fighting with werewolf Luka. You don't even summon anything new; you just summon Gomorrah to finish off Singularity. You could argue that they needed to set up Bayonetta's death and Gomorrah turning on her when her contract is up, but there are other ways they could have done that and still had the explosive finishers the other games had. The game is prioritizing its story over the legacy of its series.

Some of you might be tired of me comparing 3 to 1 and 2, and I can understand where you're coming from. A game should be able to stand on its own without constant comparison to its predecessors. But the thing about Bayonetta is that it's a trilogy now. I'm not saying that 'oh, this sequel is different from the first game, therefore it sucks.' I'm trying to say that this game goes back on the pattern set up in the previous two games and suffers immensely for it. Comparisons to the first two titles are inevitable when talking about something like this, especially because Bayonetta is known for its campy, explosive gameplay. It's known for pulling out all the stops. And for this to be the end of Bayonetta as a character? It's a massive disservice. I'd say it's downright disrespectful. Not just to Bayonetta herself, but to the fans who waited years for this game.

I think the worst thing about this game is... okay, this isn't my original criticism, I saw glanced at it at like, one of those chapter sections on a Youtube video that I didn't watch but saw in the search results looking for something else, and for the life of me I cannot find its original source. If I do, I'll link it in my source section, but I saw this and it really made things click for me. This is not a game about Bayonetta. This is not a game about her, her family, her struggles, her clan, her background. This is a game about a cosmic protagonist meeting other versions of herself while wearing Bayonetta's face. The Umbra and Lumen are mentioned like. Once. All the way at the beginning, where their island of Thule is a hub for multiverse travel. But the thing is... you could completely take out all of the Umbra stuff, all of the very unique lore that Bayonetta has, and nothing would change, because this isn't a story about Bayonetta.

Singularity has no relation to the Umbra or Lumen. The angels and demons barely show up. Inferno and Paradiso and even Purgatorio aren't important. As much as I love Viola, she does feel less like a Bayonetta character and more like a Devil May Cry character. (I think someone really wanted to make their own DMC5.) You could take out the backstory of the witches and the Trinity of Realities and even of the past two games and I don't think anything would change. Because it doesn't matter. Because this is not a game about Bayonetta.

I feel so much about this game, because it could have been something great. But at best, it was a massive disappointment. At worst, it's a game that spits in the face of its fans and destroys the legacy of what came before it. It's like the writers lost sight of what made Bayonetta games so appealing, and instead what we get is an empty echo pulling itself along while reapplying its lipstick.

I haven't played Origins. Unless someone like. Pays me, I don't have any plans to. I haven't heard anyone talk about it. It's like 3 singlehandedly killed any hype for the franchise. I'm sure there will be more games, 3 set up a sequel with Viola, but I have my doubts that it'll even be in the public consciousness for more than a minute. And that's really fucking sad.

So... what can actually be learned from all of this? It's one thing to rail on something, it's another to actually take something away from it. I suppose the best I have is: if you're making something--a book, movie, game, etc.--make sure you understand the core of your characters. Understand what drives the narrative and how they weave into it. Understand their multifaceted natures and how certain character traits manifest when they're interacting with the environment and with other characters. Understand what makes your story unique, what its themes are and how they're presented in the work.

And always remember: if you're ever worried about the quality of your story, especially the ending, know that it can't be more insulting than Bayonetta 3's.

[Sources here because Tumblr won't let me post this many links.]

#bayonetta #bayonetta 3 #video games #video game essay #media analysis #media criticism

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