#I already had her and got a second slot at pity but I REALLY wish I still had those 100 rolls

[silvermoon424]

GOTTEM

Had phenomenal luck with Iroha x Kuroe; I got two copies in 70ish rolls. I also used an Innocent Gem so they're at 3 slots. I outright bought Shi with my rainbow whale gems.

#magia record #I impulse rolled for Summer Nagisa the other week and I DEEPLY regret it lol #I already had her and got a second slot at pity but I REALLY wish I still had those 100 rolls #combined with the fact I also rolled for Yuu I didn't have a lot of rolls left #pmmm

[namgee]

implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)   ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none  ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee

#namjoon #kim namjoon #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #bts fluff #bts #btsfanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #slice of life #mine #namgee

[liusaidh-writing]

Call it True - Chapter One

 Claire and Jamie are neighbors - though they’ve never met.  Claire, infatuated with her Scot upstairs, is more than a little certain that it’ll never happen. Is she wrong?  

Prefer to read at AO3? 

Hope you all enjoy this...I really wish I could say I’d update on a regular day weekly, but as of right now I don’t get much time to write. So please be patient!  

**I’d like to thank (profusely) @faithperry46  for being my life-saver/beta reader.  I wouldn’t/couldn’t have done this without your help!**

Here we go...

-----          

Claire chuckled to herself, hearing the vacuum come on downstairs again. Every morning, without fail, the older lady who lived downstairs turned it on...to hoover her back patio. Living on the first floor, she was granted a small back garden - one Claire was envious of. Though she didn't think she'd do much but sweep her patio with a broom.  

Claire pushed open her kitchen window and held her breath, wondering if he'd be here at his window today. Claire figured this was her favorite way to start her days: a small chat with her mysterious, yet lovely -and stupidly handsome,- neighbor, Jamie. 

Claire hid a grin when she spotted his curly auburn hair. 

"Poor woman. Shall we buy her a broom for Christmas?" He joked, greeting Claire with his unassuming smile. He gave her a wink - if it 

could be called that, seeing as he couldn't wink correctly but instead closed both eyes in a humorous attempt.  

Claire smiled properly this time, calling to him as she rested her elbows on the window sill. 

"She's going to break that thing soon enough. I'll get the dustpan if you'll get the broom?" she offered with a laugh. It was only May, but who was Claire to say it was too early to start Christmas shopping? Especially if she could do it with Jamie.

"It's a deal. We can present it to her together." Jamie smiled at her, and Claire as per usual, panicked, swatted her face with her hands while mumbling something about a bug before excusing herself. 

"I've got to run just now, but we can work out the details later. See you soon!" 

She shut her window as she heard him respond with a friendly 'Have a good day, Claire!' 

She didn't truly need to be anywhere for another half hour - her shift at the hospital started an hour from now, but she just couldn't talk to him for long. She'd get all flustered, and was terrified she'd say something completely stupid and ruin what they had. Claire had never met the man in the flesh, but she was completely enamored with him...or his face rather, since that was all she could see from her window.  

She loved his stupid wink, his big smile that nearly met his slanted eyes as he greeted her when they saw one another. She had no idea if he lived alone, but she was certain that someone that handsome had to have a girlfriend at the very least. Or a boyfriend, perhaps. He certainly had no need of anything more from her than a quick morning chat... or else it would've happened already - that's what she told herself six months into their weird connection. Her erratic schedule at the hospital kept her from seeing him every morning and explained why they'd never met in person. 

Their relationship never ventured much further than chatting about their mutual source of amusement: their elderly neighbor with the hoovering obsession. They chatted here and there about happenings in their respective days: 'You got a haircut!' She'd say, noticing his hair was slightly shorter. He'd nod, pretend to preen, and run his hands through his hair with a laugh. 

He had no idea what that did to Claire. She was sure her cheeks went pink whenever he was even slightly flirty. She'd lose the ability to concentrate, to speak, so she'd excuse herself in some clumsy way and go about her day with him swimming around in her imagination. She'd fantasize about knocking on his door, asking him for coffee, laughing over a shared joke that didn't have to do with their neighbor, Jamie kissing her dumb as his hands roamed her back for her bra strap... 

Sometimes she got carried away.

---

Claire got to work, noticing that her favorite co-worker, Lesley, was already there. Claire saw Lesley's toddler's car seat in the back, knowing it hadn't been a fun morning at her house. Lesley had a two-year-old son named Harry who Claire enjoyed, but Lesley's ex-husband Frank wasn't always in a helpful mood. So, this morning -like a lot of mornings,- the two-year-old was brought to the hospital child care center instead of staying home with his father.  

Claire sighed, shaking her head on Lesley’s behalf. Claire remembered when she’d gotten married to Frank and when she’d had her son - Lesley had thought she had it all. "But look," Claire thought, "it all fell apart at her feet shortly after it began." 

"I’m better off by myself. Only me to worry about.” It was her mantra of sorts, and Claire had convinced herself it was true. 

She got to her floor, put her stuff in her locker, and slowly shuffled to her station as she wondered what her day would bring. Lesley was there, as expected, riffling through some files as she smiled at Claire in greeting. Lesley was slightly shorter than Claire, with medium-length blonde hair Claire was sure wasn’t entirely natural. Lesley’s down-to-earth demeanor and penchant for keeping Claire grounded in reality was, unbeknownst to Claire, her saving grace during the work day, and though Lesley had had a rough go of it with Frank, she remained, for the most part upbeat - something Claire struggled with at times. Always there to lend an ear, Lesley was invaluable to Claire, and she was happy to return the favor whenever possible.

“Here you go, Lady.” Lesley said as she handed Claire a bright red folder with a name Claire couldn’t read on the side. “New admittance - a 72-year-old woman had a stroke and is in for observation.” 

Claire worked on the cardiac floor and enjoyed it... for the most part. The majority of her patients were older men and women, and she found them easy to talk to. She knew she could offer them some comfort and help during their stay.  

Grabbing the folder, she headed to her first room and started her day. 

---

Claire’s lunch left much to be desired - leftover Chinese food that had Lesley crinkling her nose. 

“How old is that, Claire?”

“I'm not sure. A few days…” 

“It doesn’t smell right.” 

Claire watched as Lesley’s mouth formed a frown. Lesley had her own lunch - a fresh salad with grilled chicken and cashews. 

“We can’t all be chefs, Lesley,” Claire said as she took a bite of her Kung Pao chicken. She made a face, struggling to swallow. Perhaps she should’ve thrown it out - but it was all she’d had to bring today.

“You live alone, Claire - you can cook all you want! I have to make my lunches once Harry has gone down for the night. After folding all of the laundry and scarfing down what’s left of dinner.” Lesley took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly as Claire shook her head. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said quietly, pushing her fried rice around with her fork. “I could cook, I suppose,” she continued, thinking about the ingredients in her refrigerator. Those consisted of a block of parmesan cheese, a bottle of orange juice, and a small pint of milk. “I could make...well, not much at the moment, but…” Claire, wanting to change the subject from her nonexistent domesticity, decided to bring up Jamie.

“I think he must have a girlfriend,” Claire said, deciding to throw her lunch out and buy some peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. As she fished for some coins in her purse, she continued. “I mean, he’s gorgeous...surely he’s taken. You know I have no luck, Lesley.”  

“Well, Claire,” Lesley began, sounding unsure about her next statement. “Do you...try?” 

Grabbing her crackers from the slot at the bottom of the vending machine, Claire whirled around, brows knitted and mouth in a scowl. 

“I do try,” she said, opening the crackers and stuffing one in her mouth. “I just figure he’s not worth my time,” she mumbled, spraying crumbs over her shirt. She brushed them off, shrugging. 

Lesley rolled her eyes, then set them on Claire, giving her a pitying, yet frustrated look. “You don’t know anything, Jon Snow.”

“It’s ‘You know nothing…’” Claire corrected, ignoring her comment. “Look how it worked out with Frank. You’re not exactly a great example of romance gone right.” Claire felt somewhat guilty when she saw Lesley’s face fall for a second, but the conversation was cut short by the clock. Time to get back to work.

“Just give it a go, Claire - the worst that could happen is that he is involved with someone else. You don’t know unless you ask.” Lesley gave her parting advice before they headed out of the lunchroom. 

Claire believed that the idea of knocking on his door and asking him about his relationship status was a little too much to ask of her. She’d talked to him - flirted even, and still...nothing. Nothing good could come of her asking him out, she decided. Only mortal embarrassment, and the unfortunate circumstance of having to live under someone who’d turned her down. No, thank you. 

Claire managed to push down all her thoughts about Jamie and get through her shift, and was relieved to plop down on the bus seat that would take her home.

Getting home, she eyed Jamie’s door, craning her neck in the stairwell to get a glimpse of the bright red door identical to her own, except he lived at 3C, she at 2C. 

"No sign of life," she sighed, hitching her purse and bag higher up her shoulder as she made her way to her flat. Her phone buzzed as she went in, tossing her bags on the entry table and reaching to dig into the depths of her purse for the offending object. She didn’t want to answer it, but she saw it was Lesley, so she swiped up, putting it to her ear with some trepidation.

"Please don’t ask me to babysit. Please, please," she begged silently as she heard Lesley begin to talk. She didn’t not like Harry. He was an adorable child and didn’t cause much trouble when he was here, but she had been looking forward to a much-needed day off work, and babysitting a toddler hadn’t been at the top of her agenda.

"…so anyway, I know it’s your day off,” Lesley said, and Claire groaned inwardly, covering the phone with her left hand. “But I’m just stuck, and I thought...maybe you’d help me out?” 

Claire gave a pained smile, even though Lesley couldn’t see her, rubbing her hand through her hair as she sighed. 

“Sure, Lesley, you know I will. It’s no trouble. Just drop him by in the morning.” 

Claire hung up, trying not to feel irritated by the prospect of watching a two-year-old all day. She had no plans, really, except to vegetate in front of the television, devouring Netflix true crime shows. But it sounded so good. Pizza delivery, maybe pull out her untouched bottle of whisky from some Christmas past...

"Oh well, she thought, I’ll just get through it. I’ll have another day off eventually." She thought. It then registered that she was due to work some night shifts coming up. "Oh... fun," she groaned to her empty apartment.  

Claire glanced at her ceiling when she heard footsteps upstairs. Jamie was home. What was he doing tonight, she wondered. Was his girlfriend over? Did he have a date, or was he, too, looking at an evening of solitary drinking?

Claire nearly jumped out of her skin when her doorbell rang. She shuffled to the door, warily looking through the peephole. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. 

Puzzled, she saw a young teenager standing there holding a plastic bag, marked with a local restaurant’s logo. He wore a bright red hat, had more zits than craters on the moon, and he bore a scowl. Slowly, Claire opened the door, knowing she hadn’t ordered anything.

“Did you order this, lady?” the kid spat, holding the bag out to her, desperate to unload his delivery and get out of there. 

“Er...no...What’s the address?” 

“I don’t know, It’s smudged. I’m just...working my way around.” The kid shrugged, still holding out the bag.

“Well...I didn’t order it. Sorry. Try upstairs. Above me, perhaps? I know my neighbor just got home.” 

The kid sighed, drawing the bag away from Claire. He didn’t say anything, but slowly turned around and, swinging the bag around in a wide arc, growled as he started to make his way up the stairway. Claire waited at her door, hearing the delivery attempt upstairs. 

Hearing Jamie’s voice, she put her face in her palm, frustrated with herself. She could’ve made that delivery. She could’ve been standing in front of him now, complete with food. They could’ve eaten dinner together, watched a movie, somehow become entangled on his bed… 

Shut up, Beauchamp! 

She grabbed her phone, dialed to order a pizza, and slumped on the couch, resigned to her fate as a spinster, alone in front of Murder by Numbers for yet another evening. She folded her arms, brows knit, imagining Jamie upstairs with the girl he definitely had over. Why couldn’t she be hopelessly in love with someone at work, someone she saw every day? Someone she’d seen the bottom half of? That would make it easier. She always imagined Jamie as being about her height, but she could tell just from what she’d seen of his arms that he worked out. When he wore the sleeveless t-shirts, she always marveled at his biceps and had recurring dreams about them draped around her waist. 

She also knew he was a Scot, a transplant from somewhere north. She wondered if he ever wore a kilt because she figured she’d pay good money to see it. Oh, she was pathetic, she knew, but she didn’t care when she was alone in her thoughts. She wondered if it would do her good to get a cat. Perhaps then she wouldn’t do so much daydreaming. Surely it wasn’t healthy.

#outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #writing #lord help me #i will try to post more at least weekly... #i'm excited about this one though #i even have it all planned out! #that's never happened...ever #enjoy! #feedback welcome

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2021

We all knew it was coming: The Oscar nominees are now almost literally handpicked by Netflix and Amazon. We thought it would be a few years away, but it's just one more piece of fallout from the pandemic. It won't be long now before I'm making my predictions for the Flixies or the Amazies. (By the way, streamers: I just want to watch the friggin' credits, why is that such a problem??)

In case you haven't been paying attention (and I'm pretty sure you haven't), Nomadland is going to win the big Oscars. Haven't seen Nomadland? Or even heard of it? Or any of the Oscar-nominated films? Or didn't even know the Oscars were happening this year? You're not alone. With no theaters this past year, the non-bingeable, non-Netflix-welcome-screen movies were pretty much an afterthought. (But if you asked the streaming services, the nominees this year each accounted for a billion new subscribers and topped the worldwide digital box office for months.)

Well, I'm here to tell you the Oscars are in fact happening, albeit a few months late. Fear not: my 22nd annual Oscar predictions will provide everything you need to know before the big night. (You don't even need to watch the movies themselves -- reading this article will take you just as long.)

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Minari WILL WIN: Nomadland GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pieces Of A Woman INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

If you're a fan of capitalism, this is not the year for you. Nominees like Nomadland, Mank, Judas And The Black Messiah, The Trial Of The Chicago 7, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Hillbilly Elegy, Minari, and The White Tiger are all (to varying degrees) indictments of a capitalist system, or at the very least are suspicious of those who benefit from it, and focus on those left behind. It's certainly fertile ground for angst and high drama, if not belly laughs. (Don't get me started on the ironies of all these movies being distributed by billion-dollar conglomerates. The filmmakers, producers, and actors can tell you that the checks cash just fine.) Like Austin Powers said, "Finally those capitalist pigs will pay for their crimes, eh comrades?"

There is no way for me to talk about Nomadland, which will win Best Picture, without sounding like an a-hole. It's a gorgeous work of art, and a fascinating character study, but I struggled to connect to the story. (You should know that for me as a movie watcher, story is more engaging than artfulness or character. But hey, why can't we have all three?) I wanted to like it, I really did. I'm content to drift along with Fern, the resilient main character played naturally by Frances McDormand, but she has no true objective or antagonist. She's a nomad on the road, either searching or hiding, either with the world or against the world, we're not quite sure which. I thought it might be driving (literally) toward a bigger revelation or resolution, but no. (Same with life, I guess.) It's meandering, reticent, languorous, and ethereal (I'm trying really hard to avoid using the word "boring" here). This is all quite intentional, by the way -- the film moves at the pace of its protagonist, and the effect is palpable. (And don't worry, it's not lost on me that I'm watching this movie about people barely scraping by, on a large ultra-high-def TV on my comfy couch in my warm home under an electric blanket, using a streaming service that the movie's characters probably couldn't access or afford.) Am I wrong about all this? Of course I'm wrong. Every critic out there is doing backflips over this film. And not surprisingly, the movie's mortality themes are playing well with the Academy, whose average age and closeness to death are extremely high. (Like the nomad Swankie, they're all anxious about that final kayak ride down the River Styx.) But beware the movie whose 'user/audience score' is significantly lower than its 'critic score' -- it means that regular people are not quite buying it. For me, the biggest problem with slice-of-life films is that I don't really want to go to movies to experience regular life -- I have life for that. Then again, I'm also a superficial, materialistic a-hole. But you knew that already. (Added intrigue: Hulu, Nomadland's distributor, might score a Best Picture win before Amazon, and gives Amazon a subtle middle-finger in the movie with its depiction of seasonal workers.)

Remember when feel-good movies were a thing? It didn’t mean that there were no conflicts or problems for the characters, it just meant that they were enjoyable to watch, and you came out feeling good about humans. Minari is the rare feel-good Oscar movie, and my personal pick for what should win Best Picture. It easily might have been a tough sit based on the premise: A Korean family moves to rural Arkansas to start a farm, and must overcome a drought, financial calamity, a complete lack of agriculture experience, a crumbling marriage, the son's potentially-deadly heart condition, and a grandmother that drinks all their Mountain Dew. In keeping with Oscar tradition, it could have been a constant assault of upsetting scenes. But instead, it's a warm, sunny, optimistic, funny movie. The family faces struggles and hardships, to be sure, but the story is treated with positivity, not negativity; with a sense of community, not isolation; with an attitude of resolve, not blame. And they get through their problems with mutual support, togetherness, tenderness, humanity, and of course, love. (Not to mention grandma planting some weeds that may or may not miraculously heal physical and emotional wounds.) All these things combine to make it a more engaging experience for me than Nomadland. Not only do I wish this movie would win the Oscar, I wish I could give it a hug.

A lot of pundits think The Trial Of The Chicago 7 has the best chance to upset Nomadland. But I'm not seeing that happen. It was an early favorite and has been getting tons of nominations in the awards run-up, but it hasn't actually been winning much, and seems to be losing steam. (The lack of a Best Director nod is virtually a killer.) I think Minari has a small chance to sneak away with a victory, as it's gotten almost as much universal praise as Nomadland, but hasn't had the same audience. Judas And The Black Messiah is an interesting case, in that it's a late entry that had little early awareness (it didn't plan to be eligible until next year's Oscars), but it scooped several unexpected nominations. Debuting a contender late and taking advantage of recency bias has been a successful strategy in the past, so don't be surprised by a surprise. (Had Shaka King scored the last Director slot over Thomas Vinterberg, I think Judas would be a fairly legitimate threat.)

If you had asked me in September, I would have predicted that Mank would be the wire-to-wire favorite to win Best Picture. Aside from being a prestige David Fincher film (more on him later), it's a smorgasbord of Classic Tales of Hollywood. And the centerpiece couldn't be bolder: It's an homage to, a making of, a dissection of, and political dissertation on Citizen Kane -- only the most deified film of all time. Simply recite the synopsis, describe the film's 1940s black-and-white aesthetic, and mention Gary Oldman's name as the star, and just watch the Oscars come pouring in, right? Well, not quite. It netted 10 nominations, more than any other film, but it's looking like it might not win any of them, certainly not Best Picture. I don't think the film quite knows what it wants to be; at least, I'm not sure what it wants to be. Centered on Herman Mankiewicz, the man credited with co-writing Citizen Kane with Orson Welles, it's a distorted, polemical, impressionistic portrait of a man I barely even knew existed. Though Welles is only briefly portrayed in the film, it demystifies him a bit, suggesting that he's maybe not as responsible for this work of genius as we thought. If the film was framed as "Who actually wrote Citizen Kane?", it would be a little easier to get into. But it feels somewhat academic and circuitous (in a way that Kane itself doesn't). And while the script is clever, it's clever to the point of being confusing. Of course, a film of this pedigree invites a lot of scrutiny, maybe more than any other awards contender (or any film that actually got released this past year, period). It has a lot to appreciate, and surely would benefit from a second viewing. I also can't help but root for the fact that it's been Fincher's passion project for almost a quarter-century. (Then again, tell that to any indie filmmaker who spends their whole life on a single passion project that ends up getting completely ignored, and they’ll tell you where to shove your Fincher pity.) Ultimately, it's an admirable work, but if you're looking for a Rosebud, it's not there.

Promising Young Woman continues to defy expectations. Not only did it rack up six Oscar nominations, it's likely to win one or two of them, and for a while, was gaining on Nomadland for Best Picture. Now that the chips are falling into place, we know it won't win in this category, but it remains one of the most talked-about films of the season. What I like most about the film is not necessarily the literal story (I should have seen the main twist coming a mile away), but the way writer/director Emerald Fennell elevates it in an interesting way. Instead of showing the whole story, she starts her film at the end of a typical revenge thriller (several years after the incident and the legal aftermath). In fact, the victim is not even in the movie, and the victim's best friend is already far along on her path of retribution. (It also challenges the definition of "victim".) The film is not voyeuristically exciting in any way; it's unsettling, but also oddly charming in unexpected ways. The key for me is how it serves as a metaphor for the secrets people keep from loved ones and the toll that it takes on them, and the penances we give ourselves instead of allowing ourselves to heal. It also made me realize that movies could use more Juice Newton. (Paris Hilton, not so much.)

Sound Of Metal and The Father were probably the last two films to make the cut in this category, and are the least likely to win. Their best chances are in other categories. (Pro Tip: If you put the word "sound" in the title of your movie, there's a very good chance you'll win Best Sound.)

I don’t recommend Pieces Of A Woman to anyone who's pregnant, or partners of pregnant women, or anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or any partners of anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or people hoping to be grandparents anytime in the future, or doctors. (And I'm certain midwives are not giving this a ringing endorsement.) The film starts with an infant death, and then gets worse from there. It's not just an unpleasant experience, it's a series of unrelenting unpleasant experiences: Depression, extra-marital affairs, guilt, a domineering mother, lying, manipulative spouses, abandonment, feelings of inadequacy, sexual dysfunction, litigation, sibling jealousy, public shame, borderline domestic abuse, bribery, courtroom drama, financial problems, baseless blame, and drug addiction. And if that's not upsetting enough, they also manage to throw the Holocaust in there. (This should be a movie sub-genre: "Parade of Horrible Events". This fraternity would include: Manchester By The Sea, Mudbound, Uncut Gems, 12 Years A Slave, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, The Family Stone, and of course, The Revenant.) And then there are the characters. It would be one thing if these were ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. But these are extraordinary a--holes making extraordinary circumstances much worse. It's literally laughable. If I didn't understand what the word 'melodramatic' meant before, I do now. I'm aware that this is based on the experiences of writing/directing spouses Kata Wéber and Kornél Mundruczó, and I don't mean to trivialize their pain or what they went through. Nobody should have to suffer that trauma. And I realize art is a healthy and oftentimes beautiful outlet for grief. But… did I mention the movie is unpleasant? There are certainly wonderful fragments and ideas in here; if the components added up to something moving, I would be much more receptive to it. If I were a snarky (okay, snarkier) reviewer, I might call it "Pieces Of A Better Movie".

Soul is a lovely and inspiring movie, but I'm at the point where I have to judge films by my experience while watching them with children. Try explaining this movie to a 6-year-old. Way too many existential/philosophical/theological questions. I guess it's good for parents who like to talk to their children, but if you're trying to keep your kid occupied and quiet (the reason screens were invented) so you can do something else, it's a bust. (It's no match for the hysterical self-explanatory antics of a certain motor-mouthed, overweight, black-and-white, martial-arts-fighting bear with a penchant for sitting on people's heads and, more importantly, keeping kids silently dumbstruck.) And: Did they have to make the entrance to the afterlife -- a giant bug zapper -- so terrifying? If that's how you get to heaven, what is the entrance to hell like??

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) WILL WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pete Davidson (The King Of Staten Island) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods)

This one hurts. I usually don't feel a connection to or an overabundance of sympathy for celebrities, but this one genuinely hurts. When Chadwick Boseman wins Best Actor (for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom), it will be a wonderful celebration, but also a painful reminder, not just of who he was, but of who he was yet to be. If ever there was a unanimous vote, this would be it. Before this movie, we had seen him play heroes and outsized personalities, but there had been nothing quite like his role as Levee, the gifted and demonized trumpet player in Ma Rainey's band. His brash, wounded performance is astonishing, revelatory. Since the film debuted after his passing, we can only watch it through the prism of his death. It's hard not to feel parallels: Levee is just starting to scratch the surface of his talent, giving us hints of his abilities with composition and brass before his breakdown; similarly, we have only gotten a taste of Boseman's range and depth. For both the character and the man, we're being deprived of the art he would have created. Boseman's passing makes the performance more resonant and unshakeable, but I think under different circumstances he would still be the front-runner in this race. The only difference would be, we'd assume this would be the first prize of many.

Anthony Hopkins picked an unusual time to go on a hot streak. He recently left a memorable impression on the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Odin, got an Emmy nomination for Westworld, and scored 2 Oscar nominations (after a 22-year drought) -- all after his 80th birthday. This year's nomination, for playing a man slipping into dementia in The Father, probably would have been a favorite to notch him his second Oscar in a different year. He seems like he should be a two-time winner, and we just don't know how many more chances he'll have. (I stand by my declaration that he should have won last year for The Two Popes, over Brad Pitt.) To those aforementioned aging Academy members who fear mortality and probably consider Hopkins a spry young man: Maybe you shouldn't watch this movie.

Riz Ahmed's performance in Sound Of Metal establishes the tone for the entire film, making the experience feel grounded and real. I appreciate how his outward, physical performance is very still, while his internal performance is frenetic, like there's a live wire in his head that he's trying to conceal from the world. His quietness leaves us with an uncertainty that feels like authentic; he's not going to tell us all the answers, because his character is figuring it out as he goes. Speaking of questions, I have a few about his band in the movie (before the hearing loss): Are they any good? What kind of living do they make? Is their cashflow net positive or negative? Are they considered successful (in whatever way you want to define that)? What is their ceiling, commercially and artistically? Are they one lucky break away from making it, or is it a lost cause? Most importantly, if Ahmed and fellow nominee LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) had a sad, doleful, wide-eyed staring contest, who would win?

Steven Yeun has been a recognizable face in film and TV (and a prolific voice actor) for a decade, but we haven't really seen him front and center until Minari. And after this bright, heartwarming turn, I think you can expect him to remain in the spotlight for the foreseeable future. His understated and remarkable performance carries this beautiful story of a family finding its path through a new way of life. Despite scant dialogue and minimal exposition, we seem to always know what his character is thinking -- that he's facing daunting odds but has a steel resolve. He and screen partner Yeri Han (who deserves as much credit as Yeun for this film) create one of the most tender crumbling marriages I've seen on screen in a long time. (Though a marriage counselor could have given his character some helpful "dos and don'ts" that might have saved him some headaches.)

What's more improbable, Mank's meandering, decades-long journey to the screen, or the fact that we're supposed to believe 63-year Gary Oldman as a man in his 30s and early 40s? Well, once his performance begins, it's so hammy that you forget all about the ridiculous age discrepancy. He's playing Herman Mankiewicz, whose bombastic writing and sozzled demeanor helped mold the script for Citizen Kane into the legend that it is. It's a bloviated, ostentatious, spectacular exhibition of affectation and panache that only Oldman could pull off. It's a lot of fun. (It must be exhausting to be his wife.) It’s as if Mank wrote the story of his own life... and gave himself the best part.

I'm naming Delroy Lindo for my snubbed choice, for his intense and crushing performance in Da 5 Bloods. I've been hoping he'd get an Oscar nomination for 20 years, and by all accounts, this was going to be his year. Even in the fall, after a slew of critics' awards, he was the odds-on favorite to win. So it was a disappointment that his name wasn't called when nominations were read. For now, he'll have to be content with being everyone's favorite never-nominated actor. (But here's to hoping The Harder They Fall is frickin' amazing, so he can end that drought next year.) There are plenty of honorable mentions this year: Adarsh Gourav (The White Tiger), Mads Mikkelsen (Another Round), and Kingsley Ben-Adir (One Night In Miami) come to mind. (By the way: How often do Kingsley Ben-Adir and Sir Ben Kingsley get each other's take-out orders switched?) But my runner-up is John David Washington (my snubbed pick two years ago), who undoubtedly became an A-List movie star in the past year… but not for the reason you think. Yes, Tenet was a blockbuster and the cinematic story of the summer, but he had special effects and storyline trickery supporting him. Instead, Malcolm And Marie is what stands out to me -- he has nothing but his performance (as abrasive as it is), and he still commands the screen and our attention. When he gets hold of a juicy monologue, he starts cooking… but when he starts dancing on the countertop? Look out.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) WILL WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma.) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Jessie Buckley (I'm Thinking of Ending Things)

Coming down to the wire, we've got a race where three women have a chance to win, and the favorite depends on who you ask and when you ask. Carey Mulligan, Viola Davis, and Andra Day have each won precursor awards, and seem to leapfrog each other daily. Mulligan has been picked by most prognosticators, with Davis right behind. But I'm going to put my untarnished reputation on the line and predict a long-shot upset for Day. (And when that doesn't happen, I'm going to say that I actually thought Mulligan or Davis were more likely.)

Maybe I'm picking Andra Day because she's also my personal favorite, for her star-making debut in The United States Vs. Billie Holiday. The movie itself is serviceable but not stellar (some of the scenes and dialogue are absurdly expository), but Day is an absolute dynamo as the Lady Day. The film is a fairly rounded picture of her life, including her drug abuse, health issues, singing the controversial-at-the-time civil-rights song "Strange Fruit", and an investigation by the U.S. government (hence the title) -- all of which is intriguing for those of us not familiar with her personal story. (I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn that, despite my curmudgeonly ways, I was not in fact alive in the 1940s.) Day has seemingly come out of nowhere, because there was no early hype about the film, and nobody even saw it until a few weeks ago (and even now, it hasn't been seen by nearly as many people as the other contenders). Known primarily as a singer before this (I'm a big fan), she literally transformed her voice (straining her vocal chords, taking up smoking) to capture Billie Holiday's unique vocals. The singing alone might be enough to get her a nomination, but it's the dramatic work that puts her ahead of the field. More than any other nominee, we really get the feeling that she's laying her soul bare onscreen. Even for a seasoned actress, the depth of this performance would be impressive. Her film doesn't have the popularity or momentum that Mulligan's or Davis's do, so she's heading into Oscar night as an underdog. But if voters judge the actresses strictly on performance, not on the movies themselves, she might just pull an upset. And, if you haven't heard Day sing outside this movie, do yourself a favor: Stop reading this article (you might want to do that anyway) and browse her catalogue -- she has the best voice of any contemporary singer, period. Forget Billie Eilish, why isn't Day singing the next James Bond song?

Carey Mulligan returns to the Oscar game for the first time in 11 years, for Promising Young Woman. (Is she bitter that her performance in An Education lost to Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side? Probably not as bitter as I am.) Promising Young Woman is getting a lot of attention and accolades, and much of it is due to Mulligan's strong turn as Cassandra, a woman on a revenge crusade that has taken over her life. It's a layered performance; we see a lot of Cassandra's facades, but we don't know if we ever see the real person. Her best friend's rape and subsequent suicide has left her stunted; by the time we meet Cassandra, she's literally and figuratively become someone else. As rough as it sounds, Mulligan is able to make it… well, 'fun' isn't the right word, but 'enjoyable'. We see Cassandra refusing to sit or be bullied; she has agency and kinetic energy in situations where many do not or cannot. Whether or not the film works rests largely on Mulligan's shoulders; it's a good thing she's such a talented actress, because not many could pull it off. The more people see the film, the more she's been picked to win the prize. Will she get enough support for a victory? (Ms. Bullock, you owe her a vote.)

Out of all the nominated performances this year, Viola Davis's is the most amusing. Playing the titular singer in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, it's clear she's having blast. When she's onscreen, Davis owns every single inch of it. She doesn't just drink a bottle of Coke, she guzzles the whole thing with gusto and verve, serving notice that this is going to be the most entertaining consumption of soda you've ever seen. And so it is with the rest of the performance. (Though the lip-synching is not particularly believable; but then again, that didn't hurt Rami Malek in Bohemian Rhapsody.) It will be interesting to see what happens on Oscar night. She's been up and down in the predictions. She was down after losing the Golden Globe (it's taken us until now to realize the Globes are a waste of time??), but rebounded strongly with a Screen Actors Guild win. She is universally adored, but she's also won an Oscar already for Fences, so voters may not feel quite as compelled to give it to her overall.

And we haven't even talked about Frances McDormand in Nomadland yet. Early on, this category seemed like a sprint between McDormand and Davis. But when neither won the Golden Globe or Critics' Choice, it became anybody's race. As we near the end of the contest, McDormand has pretty clearly fallen toward the back. I don't think it's her performance; instead, she's been discounted due to her own victorious history. She's already got two Oscars (in 1997 for Fargo and 2018 for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri); a third one would require extraordinary circumstances. By comparison, it took Meryl Streep 29 years (and a lot of Ls) after her second to get her third. But if McDormand hadn't just won for Three Billboards three years ago, I think she'd be a lock here; Nomadland may even be a superior performance. She's probably the only actor alive that could pull this off; if she gave up acting, this is how I assume she would be living in real life. It's remarkable how she internalizes everything, yet informs the viewer how she's feeling and what she's thinking with very few words, just her physicality. This project seems particularly challenging. Her character doesn't have the answers; she's searching, but she doesn't even know what for. "I'm not homeless. I'm just house-less. Not the same thing, right?" It's as if she's posing the question to herself, and she really doesn't know. She gets lonelier as the journey goes on, a sort-of self-imposed isolation, and the viewer really feels it. (What does she ultimately find? Well, that's one of the frustrating ambiguities of the film. Don't get me started.) No matter what happens in this category, what McDormand will find is Oscar gold: She's a producer on Nomadland, so she's a strong bet to walk away with a Best Picture statuette.

Saying Vanessa Kirby is the best thing in Pieces Of A Woman is a bit of a backhanded compliment. My distaste for the film was made pretty clear in the Best Picture section, and anybody acting opposite Shia LaBeouf is going to look like Streep. But Kirby is legitimately great, and I think a welcome surprise to those who know her from the Mission: Impossible and Fast & Furious franchises. (And how many fans of The Crown thought Kirby would beat Claire Foy to an Oscar nomination? Don't lie.) Kirby makes the most of her role as an unpleasant person in an unpleasant situation enduring a barrage of unpleasant events surrounded by really unpleasant people. (An infant tragedy is the least of their problems.) But ultimately the film fails her, and unfortunately I don't really believe what any character is doing in this movie. Her nomination has been bolstered by a whopper of an opening scene: a 24-minute single-shot of a childbirth that ends horrifically. But I can't help but feel like the shot comes off as gimmicky; the immediacy of the scene was effective, but the filmmakers seemed to choose stylistic camera movement and choreography over intimacy and realness. The scene may be emotionally truthful, but hoo-eey, Kirby is dialed up. (My personal favorite ridiculous scene? When she's on the subway, wistfully watching children giggling pleasantly and behaving like angels. Ahhh, seems so blissful. Have you ever taken kids on public transportation? They would be fighting, screaming, climbing over the seats, kicking her, throwing goldfish everywhere, getting yelled at by the parents, bumping into passengers, licking the handrails, wiping snot on seats, and saying inappropriate things to strangers. That's parenthood.)

When the movie gods decided to create a remake that would be the exact opposite of what I would like, they conjured up Emma.. (That's "Emma.", with a period at the end of the title. Seriously. It's a "period" piece. Get it?) Anya Taylor-Joy is undoubtedly talented, but she's a letdown as the fabled matchmaker. She also believes that she can bleed on cue. With regard to her climactic scene: "I was in the moment enough that my nose really started bleeding." Wow. No words. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but her performance actually makes me miss Gwyneth.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) WILL WIN: Daniel Kaluuya (Judas And The Black Messiah) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Shia LaBeouf (Pieces Of A Woman) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Glynn Turman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Can you have a movie with two main characters but no leading actors? If you're wondering why the two stars (and title characters) of Judas And The Black Messiah -- LaKeith Stanfieldand Daniel Kaluuya -- are both competing in the Supporting Actor category, congratulations, you're a human on planet Earth. That's Oscar politics for you, and it's nothing new. They are both unquestionably leads; nevertheless, the shift to Supporting has worked out well for both of them. The assumption was that Stanfield would campaign in the Lead category and Kaluuya in Supporting so as not to cannibalize each other's votes, and to have Kaluuya (the stronger awards bet) compete in the less crowded category. (It's been clear for half a year that Chadwick Boseman would be winning Best Actor.) Stanfield was considered an unrealistic shot to crack the nominees anyway (he was probably 8th for Best Actor, behind Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods) and Tahar Rahim (The Mauritanian)). So when the nominations were read, it was a pleasant shock that he had been slotted in the Supporting Actor category. (And wouldn't you rather have him here than Jared Leto?)

But won't they split the vote, resulting in the very problem they were trying to avoid in the first place? As it turns out, no. Judging from other major awards, voters had made up their minds for Kaluuya long ago, so any votes to support this film will likely go to Kaluuya. It's not hard to see why: As Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, he's dynamic, steely, and charismatic. It's very different -- more confident, self-assured and domineering -- than we've seen him in other roles, like Get Out. (This movie is a like a mini-reunion of Get Out. Dang, now I want a sequel to Get Out.) But I'll be the dissenter, and cast my personal vote for Stanfield. I'm conflicted; they're a close 1-2. But for me, Stanfield's role (as an FBI informant infiltrating the Panthers) has more facets to play, and Stanfield's signature tenderness brings me into the character more. Plus, he also has the bigger challenge: he has to play the Judas (a role he initially didn't want). Like another character actually says to Stanfield in the movie: "This guy deserves an Academy Award."

Leslie Odom Jr.'s quest for an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) has hit a speed bump. Already armed with a G and a T, he was the presumptive favorite heading into the Golden Globes to collect more hardware, for playing singer Sam Cooke in One Night In Miami. But that was before anybody had seen Judas And The Black Messiah. As the lone acting nominee for Miami, he's got a lot of support from anyone looking to honor the film and its stellar cast. And as the singer, he gets to show off his lustrous Hamilton-honed pipes several times. In many ways, he's the most relatable character in Miami, the one that (despite Cooke's fame at the time) seems the most mortal. So though he'll lose Best Supporting Actor, fear not: He's the favorite to win Best Song, and keep the EGOT dream alive. (Unless… 12-time nominee Diane Warren finally gets the sympathy vote for her song for the little-seen The Life Ahead. Wait, you mean she didn't win for Mannequin's "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now"??)

Paul Raci is a fascinating nominee, for Sound of Metal. He was virtually unknown before this movie (best known as Eugene the Animal Control Guy on Parks And Recreation), but his background is intriguing. He's a Vietnam vet who started as a small theater actor in Chicago (he has a Jeff nomination!). With his upbringing as a hearing CODA (Child Of Deaf Adult), he's a frequent player in ASL theater and is the lead singer in an ASL metal band. (Am I the only one who was gotten CODA confused with ACOD (Adult Child Of Divorce)? Is there such a thing as ACODDA (Adult Child Of Deaf Divorced Adults)?) And in the understated role of Joe, who runs a facility for deaf people and serves as a guide for Riz Ahmed's character, he's fantastic. It literally seems like he's been preparing his whole life for the role, and it pays off. (Though upon further examination of his character… Joe seems like a benevolent, trustworthy guy with altruistic motivations, with a shelter focused on mental healing, addiction recovery, and self-sufficiency. But he also appears to foster an environment that isolates its members, severs contact with all loved ones, preys on those who are unstable to begin with, and convinces members that they will struggle if they leave the community. Ultimately Joe runs every aspect of members' lives, and in return expects unwavering devotion and complete submission to his methods. As soon as Ruben says one thing to challenge him, Joe accuses him of sounding like an addict, knowing it will trigger shame and self-doubt, in a clear effort to control his actions. Joe even slyly suggests that he personally knows how to reach heaven, "the kingdom of God". Is there a chance Joe is actually running a cult??)

They may have just picked a name out of a hat to see which member of The Trial Of The Chicago 7 ensemble would get an Oscar nomination (now these are all supporting actors), but however it happened, nomination day was a good day for Sacha Baron Cohen. (He also got a writing nod for Borat 2.) He is effective in the movie -- maybe the best of the bunch -- and it's a (slightly surprising) affirmation that he's a good actor in addition to being a talented performer. Is his performance actually worthy of an Oscar nomination? I'm fairly impressed (except for his I-love-you-too-man scene with the inert Eddie Redmayne, which plays cheap… but you can probably pin that one on Aaron Sorkin). But there are several other people I would have nominated over Cohen. For starters, my snubbed pick, Glynn Turman, is exceptional as a musician holding his own against Chadwick Boseman in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. (It seems like just yesterday he was the colonel on A Different World, one of his 150+ acting credits.) Honorable mentions include 7-year-old Alan Kim (Minari), Clarke Peters (Da 5 Bloods), Charles Dance (Mank), and Arliss Howard (Mank).

Wow. Shia LaBeouf is not the only repellant part of Pieces Of A Woman, but he's probably the most repellant part. I'm sorry, but anything he does, or is involved in, instantly becomes less believable. At one point he seems to be trying to creepily make out with his wife… while she's actively pushing in labor. Then later, in a distressing "love" scene, he looks like someone who has never had consensual sex with a partner before; I know the film is going for emotional rawness, but it just looks like assault. Bottom line, I have no idea what he's doing in this movie. (And I guess I don't care what he's doing, as long as it's not another Indiana Jones movie.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) WILL WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Nicole Kidman (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ellen Burstyn (Pieces Of A Woman)

Oh, sweet revenge. Don't you just love a rematch? It was just two short years ago when Olivia Colman, in a flabbergasting upset, tearfully apologized to presumptive victor Glenn Close in her acceptance speech. (…Or did she condescendingly mock her? We can't be sure about anything in that speech.) Now they are both nominated again -- Colman for The Father, Close for Hillbilly Elegy -- and the bad blood between them couldn't be boiling hotter. Since there are no nominee lunches or in-person media parades this year, I'm assuming they drunk-Zoom each other at all hours and call one another every cruel British and American curse word in the book. Colman even reportedly tweeted, "Glenn, this will be your Hillbilly Elegy: You never won a dang Oscar." Nasty stuff, but nothing unusual during campaign season. Colman is facing a tough challenge (besides playing a woman whose father is in the grips dementia). Voters will be hard-pressed to hand her a victory again so soon (and without any losses). Additionally, she didn't even get nominated for a BAFTA award -- the British Oscar-equivalent -- on her home turf (and they nominate six actors in each category). (But, she would be quick to point out, Close didn't either.) All the talk around The Father is about Anthony Hopkins. Colman is facing extremely long odds.

Which seems to perfectly set up Close to swoop in for the kill. Six months ago, on paper this seemed like a slam dunk. The word was that Hillbilly Elegy featured two of the losing-est actors (Close and Amy Adams) in transformative roles in a heart-wrenching adaptation of a successful book. It was going to exorcise the demons for both of them. Then the movie debuted. And the response was lukewarm. But then the response to the response was harsh. People hated the movie, hated the performances, and hated the participants for shilling shameless Oscar bait. (If you think there's a different kind of Oscar bait, I'm afraid you haven't been paying attention.) The film was weirdly derided as political, and faced a sort of anti-Trump backlash (which I don't understand, considering the movie takes place in the 1990s and early 2010s, when Trump was just known for being an inept USFL football owner and a silly reality-TV host). Entertainment Weekly actually used these words in a single sentence to describe the film: "ham-handed", "smug", "Appalachian poverty porn", and "moralizing soap opera". (I guess people felt about this film the way I felt about A Star Is Born.) And no, the movie is not great; it fades soon after the credits roll. But Close is compelling; at the very least, she's working her tail off. (If you think she's just hamming it up in drag, stay tuned for the end-credits images of the real Mamaw. It's uncanny.) I think the voters really want her to win (but I thought the same thing two years ago). The question is: Do they want her to win for this movie? The answer increasingly seems to be No. The general feeling (which I agree with) is that the role feels a little lacking, and below Close's other lauded performances. People realize that if she wins, it may get dismissed as being a flimsy career-achievement award, which would tarnish it.

So, which one will claim victory this time, leaving the other groveling at her feet, Colman or Close? Neither, it turns out. In a shocking turn of events, Yuh-jung Youn has emerged as a favorite over both of them. (Fortunately, she's blocked Colman and Close on Zoom.) Calling Youn the heart of Minari would be trite. She is, but she's much more than that. She's the conduit for connection: to the children, between the parents, and to the audience. Before her arrival, it feels like there's something missing. (The young son has a heart condition, is constantly chugging Mountain Dew, and is hiding his wet underpants. And the dad thinks he doesn't need a babysitter?) It's when Youn enters the film that the film excels, and we start to feel like part of the family. She also challenges our (and her grandson's) ideas of what a grandmother is (including possibly having magical healing superpowers). A lot of people are looking for a way to reward this film, and this category is its best chance. Heck, even if voters only hear Youn's one line of English dialogue ("Ding-dong broken!" -- referring to her grandson's wiener), that could be enough to win.

Maybe the most curious nomination is for Maria Bakalova, starring in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm as the notorious Kazakh's daughter. A lot of things in the past year would have been impossible to predict, but an unknown Bulgarian actress stealing the spotlight and getting an Oscar nomination for a surprise-release Borat sequel would have to be near the top. And she's actually the only one in this category who's managed to score a nomination from every major organization. She won't win, but her performance (and memes) may live on the longest.

I must be missing something in Mank. (Granted, I haven't watched it the requisite four times in order to truly appreciate it, according to the Fincherists.) But I just don't understand what the fuss is about with Amanda Seyfried. She certainly plays her part well (as Marion Davies, the illicit love interest of William Randolph Hearst and the platonic love interest of Herman Mankiewicz), but I don't see how she elevates it or brings anything extraordinary to it. Her character plays a pivotal role in Citizen Kane (Davies was the inspiration for Kane's second wife), and I presume she's supposed to play a pivotal role in Mank's literary epiphany, but I fail to understand why. (Or maybe I failed to understand her Brooklyn accent.) But more than that, her narrative thread seems distressingly incomplete. She appears to be set up for a meaty final scene, but then her character simply exits, leaving Mankiewicz (and me) baffled. I've been more impressed by her work in other movies, like First Reformed. Of course, perhaps the most significant implication of Seyfried's nomination: Two of the Plastics now have Oscar nominations. (Gretchen, stop trying to make an Oscar nomination happen. It's not going to happen!)

Just in case there was any confusion, 88-year-old Ellen Burstyn is here to let us know she can still bring the thunder. Pieces Of A Woman is a mess, and her character is dubious, but she gets one powerhouse speech to shine and (somewhat) anchor the movie -- a declaration of strength, resilience, and survival. And she delivers a two-handed, rim-hanging, backboard-shattering jam. Oh, right, there's the woman who scored an Oscar, plus four other nominations, in a 9-year span in the 1970s. And who's been an Emmy fixture the past 15 years. And who has four more movies already in the works. Just another not-so-gentle reminder that she's one of the great actors of her generation. (Honorable Mentions go to The United States Vs. Billie Holiday's Da'Vine Joy Randolph, who continues her scene-stealing ways after Office Christmas Party and Dolemite Is My Name; and Dominique Fishback, whose performance adds emotional heft to Judas And The Black Messiah.)

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ryan Murphy (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Christopher Nolan (Tenet)

The second-most-certain thing this year is Chloé Zhao winning Best Director for Nomadland. She's dominated the narrative and the awards circuit this year; nobody else is close. In fact, she might win four Oscars, which would be a record for one person with a single film. (In 1954, Walt Disney was a quadruple winner for four different movies… but do short films really count?) Odds are that she'll win three, but if she wins Best Editing early in the night, the record will be hers. Historically joined at the hip, Best Director and Best Picture have surprisingly been split between different movies several times in recent years. The voters will align them this year, but I'm going to malign them. (Disalign? Unalign? Who am I kidding, I will malign them too.) As tepid as I am on Nomadland for Picture, Zhao is my Director choice. She is clearly a masterful artist and impressionistic storyteller. But more than that, she's able to conjure a mood and state of mind with her pseudo-documentary hybrid style. She gets us to feel what the character is feeling and put us right in the environment -- and makes it seem effortless. The film's long, languid takes allow us to breathe the air, drink in the scene, and live in the moment, unhurried. Zhao augments the nomadic quality of the film in every shot. But (oh, you knew there was a 'but'), on the down side, I also find the style to be a bit tedious and overdrawn at times. Because of my lack of investment, the film often struggles to keep my attention, or more accurately, my curiosity. And despite the film being touted as a tale of community and interconnectedness, it mostly suggests to me (via the main character) feelings of pain, loneliness, coldness, and sadness. But ultimately, I think those things speak more to the story than the directing. This will doubtless be a crowning a achievement for Zhao, but I'm more excited to see what the future will bring, and what she can do for a story that I'm invested in.

I was really close to picking Lee Isaac Chung for my Should Win, for his rich, captivating film, Minari. (Really close. You, the fortunate, insulated reader, will never truly know how much I agonize over this. Some suffer for art, I suffer for unsolicited criticism.) Honestly, I was tempted to give Chung a clean sweep of Picture, Director, and Screenplay; but instead I've opted to spread them around (I can play Academy politics all by myself). So many of the qualities of Zhao's film are present in Chung's film as well; his toolbox is just as full and varied. His quiet, atmospheric shots are unburdened by haste yet always nudging the story ahead. Chung draws us in, as another member of the Yi family, our hopes rising and falling with each challenge and trifle (and sexed chick) they face. There's a real confidence in his style; he knows how to best engage the audience for the specific journey. For me though, what I appreciate most is the warmth of his filmmaking; while the story has tribulations, the film itself is compassionate, never harsh or aggressive. That stands in stark contrast to Nomadland; the palette is one of the main things that sets them apart. Chung also scored points by showcasing the best accessory on the virtual Golden Globes telecast: a ridiculously adorable child. (Was that his own kid, or a rental? Only his publicist knows for sure.) Careful, I might accidentally talk myself into flipping my pick to Chung.

This was supposed to be his year. Goddammit, this was supposed to be his year! That was the sentiment from cinephiles all over the internet this year. Throw a rock in any direction and you'll hit a podcaster (and possibly me) ranting about how David Fincher was robbed in 2011 when he lost Best Director for The Social Network to Tom Hooper and The King's Speech. (Was the Academy justified? Since then, Fincher landed a third Oscar nomination, fourth Golden Globe nomination, and two Emmy wins; Hooper directed Cats.) In early winter, the pieces seemed to be lining up for a Fincher victory with Mank: a big, mainstream, Hollywood-y underdog story; an ode to the most revered film of all time, Citizen Kane; a scenery-chewing performance from beloved thesp Gary Oldman; a film that was more accessible (read: less weird and violent) than most of his other fare; and a passion project that he had been developing for decades, written by his late father. The only question was not whether the film could win all the Oscars, but whether it could cure pediatric cancer or pilot a rocket to Jupiter. But that was 2020… and we all know how that year went. Maybe it's the fatigue caused by the prolonged award campaign season, maybe it's the lack of theaters that would have showcased his visual marvel, or maybe it's the fact that the film didn't quiiiiiiite live up to the hype, but one thing is clear: Fincher is out of the race. I'll say what a lot of the other film snobs won't: This is probably not the film we want Fincher to win for anyway. We want him to win for something sharper, weirder, more incisive, and more upsetting; in short, something more Fincher-ish. Mank is fantastic, to be sure; and in (mostly) pulling it off, Fincher demonstrates his mastery of historical and contemporary cinema. But the hiccups are puzzling. The film is structured like Citizen Kane itself, which makes it at times equally difficult to engage in; but while Kane's flashbacks feel natural, a handful of Mank's feel shoehorned. The dialogue is in the style -- but not the pace -- of hard-boiled 1940s films, which alone is a recipe for difficult viewing; further peppering every retort with unnatural irony makes for wit but not necessarily comprehension. The Kane-esque echo effect doesn't help; neither do subtitles. (I tried.) While it turns out that it's not supposed to be his Oscar year after all, I commend Fincher on an effort like this -- the singular vision, the vigor, the risk -- even when I don't necessarily love the movie or connect with it. We need his art, we need his beautiful mess. (But next time maybe throw in a grisly murder, perverted romance, or crippling heartbreak… and acquire a charming child for the awards telecast.)

Emerald Fennell impressively scored a nomination for her first feature film, Promising Young Woman, an inventive genre-mashup of a Rape Revenge movie -- a new spin on a 1970s grindhouse staple. Like a lot of people, I don't quite know what to make of the movie (I don't think I've ever actually seen a Rape Revenge movie… though I've seen plenty of Dognapping Revenge movies). It's a film that could go badly a thousand different ways, but Fennell makes choices that keep it fresh and thoroughly watchable. The primary word that comes to mind is 'subversive'. From the candy coloring to the pop music to the meet-cute to the campy suspense, she toys with convention at every turn (in some cases more effectively than others). Even the support casting -- the kooky, on-the-nose (or 180-flipped) cameos spice up the movie, but also tend to undermine it and give it a B-movie vibe. (Do we really need Jennifer Coolidge and Max Greenfield doing what they do best, but not as well as they usually do it? Probably not. Do they make me chuckle? Yes.) The result is an oddly entertaining movie on a subject that is anything but. The patina of playfulness is helpful; if it was an avalanche of distressing, horrifying scenes, it could be a tortuous watch. All in all, it might be the most enjoyable Rape Revenge movie you'll ever see.

Perhaps the biggest surprise nominee in any category is Thomas Vinterberg, for the Danish film Another Round. (The lion's share of the Oscar buzz had been for star Mads Mikkelsen; the film is also up for Best International film.) This movie is in the grand tradition of celebrating alcohol because excessive drinking is awesome. And the Academy has recognized Vinterberg because he has so astutely captured how booze is a tasty balm for every wound -- an ancient and failsafe key to enlightenment and inner peace. Wait, what's that? I'm sorry… I'm being told that this movie is actually a cautionary tale. Hmmm. I guess I should have watched it sober. In light of that, I suppose the film is an interesting examination of middle-aged ennui and the tendency to overlook that which is right in front of you. (Anyone that has gotten this far in the article knows exactly what ennui is, and should have overlooked what was right in front of them.) It's also an unintentionally apt allegory for pandemic life: When it started, we began drinking a bit at home, enjoying Zoom happy hours, and generally having a good time; pretty soon we were day-drinking out of sheer boredom, trying to teach our home-schooled kids long division while buzzed, and it got very sad and depressing; now we're all pretty much ready to jump off the pier. In general, I like the film (though I prefer my mid-life drinking crises more in the mold of Old School), but the story and arc are fairly telegraphed. You mean their problems can't be fixed by increased alcohol consumption? The more you drink, the harder it is to control? Drinking at work as a teacher around minors might go awry? Instead of booze, have they tried rest, exercise, healthy eating, or appreciating the good things in their lives? (Who I am kidding, those are a waste of time.) Ultimately, there are several directors I would have chosen over Vinterberg (Christopher Nolan for Tenet, George C. Wolfe for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and Florian Zeller for The Father come to mind), but it's interesting to see the continuing trend of nominating non-American filmmakers in this category, as the Directors' branch of the Academy becomes increasingly international.

I want to talk about the ending of Another Round for a moment. If you didn't see the movie (and I'm betting you didn't), just skip this paragraph. Most of the reviews I've read online interpret the ending as a hopeful, happy one. I think that's crazy. The ending is a Trojan horse. It looks joyful, but just underneath lies tragedy: The trio resume drinking after they've seemingly hit rock bottom and lost their best friend to booze; they believe they're in control and having a good time when really they're spiraling into chaos; they think they've found a balance, when they're actually sliding endlessly further into alcoholism. They don't realize that they cannot enjoy life sober. I think one of the reasons why I like the movie so much is that it masks that ending as a "happy" one, much the way a drinker would see it when they don't realize there's a problem. The ending is denial. A lot of people have seen the final scene as uplifting and life-affirming (even Vinterberg seems to say this in interviews, which is puzzling), that the friends have come to terms with their drinking, and have found a way to drink in moderation and still invigorate their lives and celebrate the small things. I don't understand that take at all. I would buy it if they had found a way to celebrate life while sober. Instead, I think it's the surest sign that they are destroying their lives, because they don't even realize it's happening. It's the 'darkest timeline'. They ask themselves the wrong question, "What would Tommy do?", instead of "What would Tommy want us to do?", and we know exactly what Tommy would do because we see him drink himself to death. Martin has gotten a reconciliatory text from his wife, but just as he's about to go to her, he instead joins the party, quickly gets plastered, and literally goes off the deep end. What's truly heartbreaking is seeing that they've (gleefully and unknowingly) perpetuated the cycle, having encouraged the next generation to drink in order to cope and be "awakened to life". I think there are hints in the final song lyrics ("What a Life") and the movie's poster (the image of Mikkelsen recklessly chugging champagne in a blurry stupor is from the final scene). To me, the seemingly exuberant ending is a fallacy… and utterly tragic.

In a surprise move that everyone saw coming, I'm naming Christopher Nolan as my Snubbed choice, for his twisty, backwards-y spectacle, Tenet. Did I understand the movie? Of course. Oh, you didn't? Dummy.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Derek Cianfrance, Abraham Marder, Darius Marder (Sound Of Metal) WILL WIN: Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Aaron Abrams, Brendan Gall (The Lovebirds) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Sam Levinson (Malcolm And Marie)

Did his name have to be Ryan? No, that wasn't my biggest takeaway from the script for Emerald Fennell's Promising Young Woman. But it was a big one. As Carey Mulligan's chances fade a bit, Screenplay is the movie's strongest chance to strike gold, making a strong run in the precursory awards. The ending of the film has been pretty divisive, but I like that it's completely unexpected. Maybe it's contrived, but it's what makes the movie memorable for me, and separates it from other revenge thrillers. Or maybe it's inevitable, given the themes of the movie and the character pursuing her mission past the point of no return. Either way, did his name have to be Ryan? Unless Fennell's role (she's an actress, too) as Camilla Parker Bowles on The Crown accidentally embroils her in recent royal family controversies, she should be collecting this award on Oscar night.

Most of the praise for Sound Of Metal has been specifically for its sound design. But it starts with the script (written by director Darius Marder, along with Derek Cianfrance and Abraham Marder), which is the blueprint for the sound and experience of the movie. And it's my pick (by a hair) for best screenplay of the year. It has -- hey, whaddya know! -- an actual narrative, with a main character who has an objective and opposition. It's always impressive to me when a story has very little I can directly relate to, but it still manages to resonate, and strikes a tone that feels real. I also appreciate the skill in the writing -- it's minimalistic, yet thorough in the ways that matter. The film doesn't explain a lot or give us much exposition -- it doesn't lean on voice-over, window characters, or monologues. It's quiet. Which may seem obvious considering it's about a man losing his hearing, but even the man himself and the real world he lives in have a muted vibe (despite his mind being anything but calm). The film has also been lauded for its authentic portrayal of deaf people… but not for its authentic portrayal of audiologists. (I mean, how bad is Ruben's audiologist consultation, that he is in no way prepared for how things would sound after getting cochlear implants? I get more information from my dentist when getting a cavity filled.) Also: What does metal sound like? I still don't know.

Aaron Sorkin would seem like the obvious pick here, for The Trial Of The Chicago 7. It's the kind of sonorous, social-consciousness word-porn we've come to love and expect from him. But he's already got an Oscar (though most people assume he has three), and the fight-the-system theme isn't exactly unique to his script this year. Not surprisingly, the movie feels like a mash-up of The West Wing and A Few Good Men, complete with humorous exchanges of smug cleverness, heart-warming declarations of overly-simplified principle, and his own trademark Sorkin-esque version of facts. Sure, the story of the Chicago 7 is intriguing, but would I rather watch a movie about a Chicago 7-Eleven? It's tempting…

I've previously talked about the reasons I appreciated Minari so much (written by director Lee Isaac Chung). A lot of the sweetness of the film is present in the screenplay. He cleverly tells much of the story through the eyes of a 7-year-old boy, so it's told less fact-by-fact, and more through the filter of a child's memory. (Chung based the screenplay somewhat on his own experiences growing up.) Charming as it is, I can't help but view it through the filter of a parent's anxiety: 1) Is moving across the country to live in a small town where you don't know anyone, living in a trailer, and starting a farm with zero experience the best way to solve marital problems? 2) One of the main promotional photos for the movie is a of the little boy holding a stick. Am I crazy, or is that the same stick that the father was going to use to beat the boy when he disobeyed? Did the marketing person keep their job after that? 3) The friend's deadbeat dad leaves the kids alone overnight, presumably out carousing and drinking, then shows up at breakfast hammered, saying, "Tell your mom I was here all night." How many times can you get away with that? 4) When the boy cuts his foot, is it bad that I did not think of the wound or his safety, but about the blood getting on the carpet? 5) Why aren't these kids in school??

Perhaps the script (and movie) with the biggest head of steam coming into awards night is Judas And The Black Messiah, a late entry that has been picking up acolytes left and right. The film has been lauded for its approach to the story of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton -- by telling it as a gritty, 70s-style, cat-and-mouse thriller, from the perspective of the FBI informant sent to help stop him. Director Shaka King (who wrote the script with Will Berson, based on ideas from the Lucas Brothers) has said that structure, instead of a more traditional biopic style, helped get it made by a studio. Despite the inevitability of the ending, the dramatic conflict and ferocity of the performances make for a satisfyingly tense ride.

This is going to come back to bite me, but my snubbed pick is Malcolm And Marie (or, as it should have been called, Things You Shouldn't Say To Your Girlfriend At 2 AM When You're Drunk And She's In A Bad Mood). It's like a really long Bad Idea Jeans commercial. Now, I'm not necessarily recommending this movie. You should know that most critics and regular people hate it. It's two hours of a couple arguing. It's a rough ride. It's indulgent, overwrought, and well, chock-full of mental and emotional abuse. But (stay with me here), if you can get past all that, those elements have a purpose, and there is a point to the film. I think the key is that it's not intended to be literal. It's allegorical for how we talk to ourselves -- the internal conflict we have, when we wrestle with ideas that are hard to reconcile. It's also lyrical; there's an elegance in how the characters spew eloquent vitriol at each other and rhapsodize (okay, rant) about some opinions that seem dead-on and others that seem wildly inaccurate. In some ways, the words seem like the most important thing; but in other ways, I think the movie could work as a silent film. (Either way, it's inventive: It was the first major film to shoot completely during the pandemic, so it takes place in a single home, with 2 actors, in more-or-less real time.) Writer/director Sam Levinson poses interesting questions about storytelling and authorship: Sure, write what you know; but also, and maybe more interestingly, try to write (and learn) about what you don't know. (Case in point: I don’t really have any experience or expertise about the Oscars, yet here I am.) Levinson has gotten a lot of criticism for what appears to be his point of view. I think that's fair, but I also disagree. I believe it's a bit of a misdirection. I think he believes in both sides of the argument; he's been the irrational, emotional one, and the cool, calculating one. The characters are halves to a whole. There's also the frustration with how the couple end up. The film is ambiguous, but audiences seem to think they stay together. I think the girlfriend actually decides before the movie starts that she's leaving him, and this is their breakup. That's why she lets him say all the horrible things he does, because she knows he has to get it out -- it affirms what she already knows, and reinforces her decision. Did I sell you on the movie yet? No? Well, how about this: It's the best autobiographical movie that Burton and Taylor never made.

As an honorable mention, it would have been a nice story had Mank been nominated here, as it was written by David Fincher's father, Jack Fincher, over two decades ago. The elder Fincher was a life-long newspaper man, who had an affinity for 1930s/1940s cinema, a strong knowledge of Herman Mankiewicz, and a fascination with a famously-dissenting Pauline Kael article that disparaged Orson Welles's contributions to the Citizen Kane screenplay. David Fincher had hoped to get his passion project off the ground in the 90s, but hasn't been able to until now. A nomination would have been a touching tribute to his father, who died in 2003. (Another interesting connection: John Mankiewicz, Herman Mankiewicz's grandson, was an executive producer on David Fincher's House Of Cards.) Despite my frustrations with the overall movie, the script is slick, and analyzes some intriguing inside-the-snowglobe aspects of Citizen Kane. It's a crackling, showy piece that jauntily goes out of its way to flaunt its writerliness. (For you keen-eyed writers out there, you'll notice I just made up the word 'writerliness'.) It doesn’t necessarily require you to believe that Citizen Kane is the greatest film ever made, but a healthy sense of awe doesn’t hurt. (It also helps to have a working knowledge of the film's lore, pre-WWII Hollywood, and 1930s -- or some would say, 2020s -- California politics.) The script simultaneously adores and gives a middle finger to Hollywood. Isn’t that what art is supposed to do? (That's not a rhetorical question. I'm actually asking if art is supposed to do that. Because I don't know.)

I've picked The Lovebirds as my Gloriously Omitted choice, not because it's a bad movie, but because it's a missed opportunity. It should have been amazing. The premise, the trailer, the choice of leads, and the chemistry are all fantastic, and set lofty expectations. But the movie itself is just… underwhelming. Maybe hopes were too high, but it's not as clever, tight, or funny as I wanted it to be. The problem isn't the actors -- Issa Rae truly holds the screen, and Kumail Nanjiani is naturally funny (though his character doesn't stray far from previous ones). I think it's the script (from Aaron Abrams and Brendan Gall), which feels rushed and half-baked, like a collection of sketch ideas. It's as if the screenplay left chunks blank, with a note saying, "The actors will figure out something funny on set." For these actors, I'd rather see a taut thriller story, and let them imbue it with humor and humanity. Or better yet, let Rae and Nanjiani write it themselves next time.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Christopher Hampton, Florian Zeller (The Father) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Jane Goldman, Joe Shrapnel, Anna Waterhouse (Rebecca) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ruben Santiago-Hudson (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Adapted Screenplay is going to get swept up in the Nomadland tidal wave on Oscar night, but to me it's probably the film's weakest element. I've talked about my lack of connection to the story. I understand the opinion that it's resonant, but is it revelatory? I can certainly see how it would strike a stronger chord during the pandemic, when we are all isolated; it makes the main character's loneliness feel more real. We've all been living in Nomadland, and whether it's David Strathairn shattering our favorite plates, or our kids shattering our iPad, we're just about at wit's end. But Chloé Zhao's script also plays up the theme of community and interconnectedness, and I didn't really feel that. The main character seems to be closing herself off from connection (though the ending suggests a change that we never actually get to see). A red flag is a movie description that says, "It asks more questions than it answers." Ugh, that's tough. For me, narrative is king. I understand that the movie is literally about a drifter with no plan, and the structure of the film is supposed to make you feel unmoored, but a little plot direction would be nice. Then there's the emotional climax, when Bob the Nomad Guru comes to the rescue to explain the whole theme. He tells Frances McDormand (but really, us) that he gets through grief by helping other people: "For a long time, every day was, How can I be alive on this earth when he’s not? And I didn’t have an answer. But I realized I could honor him by serving people. It gives me a reason to go through the day. Some days that's all I've got." Hmmm, where I have I seen that exact sentiment expressed before? Oh yeah, an award-winning short film called Through The Trees. (Available now, for free on YouTube.)

Dementia Mystery Thriller… is that a movie genre? Well, it might be, after success of The Father (written by Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller, adapted from Zeller's Tony-winning play). "Exciting" is hardly the word I would use to describe the horrible crumbling of the mind that is dementia, but in this movie, it weirdly fits. The film has a way of presenting the disorder in a unique manner, that goes a long way in conveying the helplessness and frustration of the victim. With copycat movies inevitable, I can almost see Christopher Nolan's version now: Demento, where a mumbling Tom Hardy (unrecognizable under heavy old-man makeup) kills his caregiver twice because he can't remember if he already killed her… or her identical twin. The big twist comes when he discovers whether he killed them in the past, or in the future, or if he's remembering the memory of someone else who killed them. The scenes of the movie play in a different random order every time, and the only score is the constant deafening sound of the old man's heartbeat. Marion Cotillard plays the twins -- apparently the only females in the universe -- using whatever accent she feels like, because she has limited, unrealistic dialogue, and has no compelling story or agency, or any useful traits for an actress whatsoever. Hardy's son may or may not be a British crime lord or an undercover MI6 agent, played by Michael Caine (digitally de-aged to look the age that Hardy actually is). An emaciated Christian Bale, who manages to lose 3 inches of height for the role, makes a cameo as Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Revolutionary practical effects include a life-size recreation of Westminster Abbey inside a zero-gravity chamber, for one massively-complicated but forgettable 5-second shot. It will only cost $723 million, and will go straight to HBO Max. I will name it the best film of 2022.

I may be picking The Father, but I'm rooting for The White Tiger, written and directed by Ramin Bahrani. Set in India in the recent past, it's a striking, chilling tale of what men may be willing to do (or forced to do) to escape poverty. Bahrani constructs a fiery examination of themes that never get old: power vs. agency, freedom vs. choice, complicity vs. culpability. His script uses a lot of devices that shouldn't work: excessive, expository voice-over; explicitly-stated metaphors; speaking directly to the audience; and on-the-nose correlations to current times. But the story and acting are strong enough to make these feel integral. Given the themes and foreign setting, it has the misfortune (or great fortune) of being an easy comparison to Parasite, last year's Oscar grand prize winner. But I find The White Tiger far more accessible and scrutable than Parasite (maybe partly due to the devices I mentioned). A win here would be a welcome surprise. By the way, Bahrani's first Oscar nomination is an interesting footnote to Hollywood lore: In the 2014 Roger Ebert documentary Life Itself, we learn that Ebert was given a legendary token by Laura Dern -- a puzzle that had been passed on from several film icons, with the understanding that each would pass it on to someone truly deserving. Dern had gotten it from revered acting teacher Lee Strasberg, and it originated when Alfred Hitchcock gave it to Marilyn Monroe years before. And now Ebert was giving it to Bahrani. 60 years of movie history, from Hitchcock to Bahrani, and into the future. (Good thing it's not at my house, we would have lost several pieces by now.)

Four of the most famous and popular men in the country walk into a bar… so shouldn't the patrons be freaking out more? One Night In Miami plays out a very intriguing hypothetical scenario: When Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Jim Brown, and Sam Cooke all met one night in 1964, what did they talk about? The compelling script (by Kemp Powers, based on his own play) and naturalistic direction (by Regina King) make for a highly enjoyable think-piece and character study. It's a daunting task, to say the least: Not only are they representing extremely visible and important figures, but two of the actors (Kingsley Ben-Adir as Malcolm X, Eli Goree as Ali) are reprising roles already played by Oscar-nominated performers (Denzel Washington, Will Smith) who may be more famous than the actual figures themselves. I guess my hang-up (besides the horrendous Johnny Carson impersonation) is, what are the stakes? Historically, we know the stakes for these four people, in the larger context of their lives and the civil rights movement. But in the film itself, in that single night, for these specific characterizations, what are the stakes? What are they each looking for that evening? I think the movie doesn't fully address this, structurally. Ultimately, due to their fame, we know where the characters' lives go from here -- how it "ends". While that makes it interesting culturally, it feels like it puts a ceiling on the movie in a way, like it's holding something back. With these outsized characters, plot-wise, I wanted a little bit more.

Released in October with almost no warning, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm either single-handedly swung the presidential election, or had no absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask. It's a rare feat for an original movie and its sequel to both score Oscar nominations for screenplay; I can't think of another time it's ever happened for a comedy. The fact that it's even under consideration -- given its improvisational nature and whopping nine (nine!) screenwriters (I'm not going to name them all, I'm trying to keep this article brief) -- is fairly astonishing. Even more baffling still, it's been placed in the Adapted category instead of Original. (Pesky Academy rules: Any sequel is automatically defined as an adaptation of the original.) The movie itself is unfortunately a shell of the unrelentingly funny original (Sacha Baron Cohen looks more like a middle-aged man doing a mediocre Borat impression at this point). When the big night arrives, the film will either single-handedly swing the Oscar vote, or have absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask.

One of the biggest surprises on nomination day was the exclusion of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom from Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, assumed to be a lock in both categories. It was even thought to contend with Nomadland in this category (it would have gotten my vote, had they asked me). I think it was diminished by the perception of being a fairly straight recreation of August Wilson's play, which is a shame. The film version (written by Ruben Santiago-Hudson) makes wonderful use of the physical space, the confinement, the claustrophobia. And I'd say the movie feels more like an album than a play -- a collection of "songs" (monologues, exchanges, and actual songs), each with its own rhythm, beat, lyrics, and theme, but coming together as a cohesive piece. The composition is effective; it draws you in the way the best albums do, and challenges your brain to think one thing while your heart feels something else. (My only complaint is that I wanted more of Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman together! Their personalities are electric, and their personas overtake the room. Their conflict is brief (it mostly flows over to conflicts with other characters), and I really wanted to see them alone, head-to-head and unbridled. I realize their distance is purposeful, and important thematically, but damn, it could have been a showdown for the ages. Just another reason to wonder… What might have been?)

The remake of Rebecca was written by a few people, including Joe Shrapnel, whose name may have been a bad harbinger for what was to become of this script. Keep it simple: Please leave Hitchcock alone.

#oscars #oscarpredictions #oscarpredictions2021 #oscarprognostication2021 #donovansoscarprognostication2021 #oscars2021 #academyawards #academyaward

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

1.7 DEMURE | Sephiroth

A/N:  Here’s the chapter I promised! See you again on Sunday!!

WARNING: THIS BOOK IS RATED 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED. THERE WILL BE SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SCENES, SWEARING, ADULT THEMES SUCH AS PAST ABUSE, ALCOHOL, AND AGAIN SEXUAL SCENES.

TAKE CAUTION.

Chapter one can be found here

1.7 - Chapter 7

Bitter

“Good things come to those who wait.”- Jess C. Scott

[TRACK: Paradise - Sharif ]

Kalista rubbed her hands on her shorts, taking another dry sip of wine as Adras and Daring took their leave from the lobby. Apparently Sephiroth had a few requests and Daring took them seriously, leading the now tipsy Adras from the safety of the yellow-painted lobby, and leaving Kalista alone with the man who left her asking for more the night before.

Despite her wishes, she wasn’t planning on seeing him. No choice words, no questions, just a reluctant lust not leaving her thoughts. She wanted Sephiroth to continue using her, letting those carnal pleasures get the better of her in a fit of trembling limbs and pitiful moans. He knew how to make her feel good, and she wanted it more now than ever, but her tongue stayed still as Sephiroth shut the lobby doors behind him. Leaving just the two of them to inhale the soiled oils of the paint together. 

The room suddenly got an eerie quiet, minus the heartbeat growing in her ears as his footsteps grew closer. How she dared not turn to even look at him, keeping her eyes straight towards the bar, legs crossed on the seat as his hand fell over the brushes she left on the table. Fingers coated in leather, and she imagined them in places they ought to be, drenched as they played with her.

“You have a problem with touching other people’s things,” Kalista said, finishing off the cup she stole back from Adras. Despite the taste, it was pleasantly smooth and it did its job. She felt far more relaxed than she had before, the alcohol making her fingers a bit numb and her lips a little fuzzy. Not enough for her to be shit-faced, but enough to endure the pestering of Sephiroth’s questions for a bit of time. “Not just things, might I add, my things.”

And she didn’t just mean the physical. Information was just as personal and far more private. 

“How long have you had these?” He asked, simple, with a small hint of curiosity looming in his voice. Before she could answer, he placed it back in its slot, with the rest as if he hadn’t even disturbed it. Merely inspecting, and she was certain he was doing the same with her. Toying with her until he really got what he wanted, whatever it was.

Kalista placed the glass of wine down, turning to him with a solemn smile. “Three years if you really needed to know.” She tried to keep the bitterness of her voice from creeping in, “birthday present if it’s so important.”

Her aching sarcasm had added the bonus of mischief in Sephiroth’s smile. It wasn’t enough to snap, but he could tell she was clearly angered at something, particularly at him with how swift her laughter with Adras changed to sore malice when she was left alone. How easily he could hear her crisp voice when he walked into the building, now suddenly disinterested and upset.

Kalista was obviously not the type to beg and plead, she liked the game as much as he did, and it was going to be interesting on who broke first. 

She finished off the glass before she could even get another taste of sharp alcohol coating her throat. It was sadly not enough.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, walking towards the corner bar, Sephiroth’s eyes focusing on her as she moved. “Daring never mentioned your schedule, I ought to know something, right?”

He hadn’t said a word, and it gave Kalista enough time to pour herself another glass of hard scotch. The one so old and so expensive it would pay off the inn for years, perhaps centuries. Daring kept it to impress the richer customers who would come in with millions of Gil lining their pockets as change, and he’d be beyond pissed knowing she was having a few sips of it without his permission, let alone almost half a glass to herself. 

Sephiroth’s deep voice filled her ears as she let the smooth drink cause her fingers to tingle, “I told you what I wanted.”

A smile crept on her face as Sephiroth’s brows furrowed at her next crude answer, “I didn’t cum. That was the deal was it not? My payment. Simple. No teasing, no begging, just let me feel good for a few minutes and I’ll answer whatever you want. Very straight forward, Sephiroth.”

The corners of his lips lifted up in such a devious way Kalista’s spine trembled. Almost as if she pressed the wrong button and now she was heading downwards instead of up. But it wasn’t what she had expected at all. He plainly loved hearing her say his name. How her tongue traced those vowels and left him wanting her to keep repeating it over and over again. It wasn’t enough to hear her moan. He wanted her to plead his name deep in the night.

His presence behind her left the same smile on both their faces for a few seconds. The footsteps stopped, and Kalista set the glass on the counter before she saw his fingers trace on the freckles on her wrist, now running up the bare skin of her arm in slow, calculated movements like he practiced on what ways to make her squirm. 

The back of his knuckle tracing her veins, very reminiscent to how Kalista’s fingers moved on his palms the night before. Soft, alluring, a wish for something more as he parted the strap of her tank top and bra, leaving on small kiss right in the dimple of her shoulder.

Kalista’s eyes shut as he moved her hair aside, hot breath heavy on her neck as his lips touched her flesh with delicate precision. Fingers in her hair, another at her wrist, both to keep her at bay long enough to get the reactions he wanted. 

She let out a small whimper as he kissed near her jaw, back to the area he had assaulted with his tongue numerous times before. Kalista couldn’t think except relish in the nerves skyrocketing at his inhuman touch. Wanting more, needing more despite the repercussions of last night, the possibility of someone walking through those doors, she wanted him to make her feel good right there, and how quickly he had moved his hand around her jaw, holding her face in place, she got her answer.

His fingers slowly traced on her protruding vein at her neck, pressing it ever so lightly to stop the blood flow. How Kalista swallowed at the sudden change in pace, but she wouldn’t be angry at the idea. Being choked by Sephiroth in just the right way sent pleasure running down to her intimate areas, she only wished it was a tad harder.

The whole idea of being utterly dominated was never something she was into. But Sephiroth, pleasing her in a number of ways, the ideas of him taking what he wanted, leaving her a stuttering mess as he did whatever he wanted, it turned her on. If someone came in they could watch how he so effortlessly screwed around with her, and she’d let them. 

A shiver ran down her spine as he pushed her into the counter. She wasn’t sure if it was the chill of the granite pressed on her flesh, or Sephiroth’s now bare fingers running up her legs, but she was trembling. She didn’t protest, she didn’t want to. Kalista was dreaming of being touched by him again, waiting until he could come and finish the job.

His lips found her ear, his voice laced with curiosity and a deep hunger that kept Kalista silent “have you really been waiting?”

She couldn’t help but nod in response, waiting until he slipped a hand down her shorts, immediately flicking at her clit without so much as a warning. She was already getting excited by the words he was speaking, but how he played with her made her mind go a bit cloudy as he went fast, pushing her harder into the granite counter until her knees were shaking.

Her fingers curled, the reflection of his smile shining in the glass of scotch. He whispered again, the deep growl that left her far more speechless than any physical touch, “simple is it?” He mocked her earlier statement, teeth nearly nipping at her ear, “say my name, and I’ll give you what you want.”

He inserted a single finger, then another, pumping in the right areas to make that familiar knot grow in the deep pit of her stomach. Her walls soaking his hand, dripping down her thigh as he asked her again. Say it, so simple, almost fascinated with how her legs trembled underneath him the longer he kept his fingers curled inside her, the sound of juices soaking her underwear and the quiet moans she let out with every inch pulling in and out of her.

She instinctively tried to shut her legs, but Sephiroth’s hands kept that from happening. Now pulling her back up, standing, his hand wrapped around her jaw, never losing a moment to finger her mercilessly. 

Her moans grew louder as he let his lips run down her neck pausing only at the area that truly made her squirm. Pitiful cries escaping from her throat, eyes shut closed as his tongue ran across her flesh, much more lustful than before.

“Sephiroth,” she gasped, breathing overtaking her as he went a bit faster. 

Just as he said, saying his name made him move quicker. Her mind going cloudy as she said it again. This time crying it out. Her arm curling behind his neck, head twisting to barely see the glazed look in his eye as she said it again. Much more confident, head filling with lack of blood and air as he never faltered. He knew how much she wanted it, how she craved it more than anything.

Now the two of them were both getting what they wanted.

Kalista felt the fire grew bigger as he continued to kiss her neck, her own fingers grabbing his hair, not wanting to let him go either. She needed him there, to finish her off. She was on edge the night before, nearly coming against his fingers in the time span they were together, now she was closer than ever, and she was planning on making him stay there as long as possible. 

His fingers kept going, the juices slipping down her thighs some more as she moaned his name again, holding onto his hair for support in case she would fall. The knot was growing, rabid, and deep into her core as Sephiroth let his finger hit the exact spot she wanted. Her feet were beginning to lose balance, her legs shaking as he felt her climax underneath him with one final breath of his name.

Kalista fell onto the counter as Sephiroth let her go, body shaking,  toes curled as she tried to regain her lost breath. Her skin had become flushed and legs now coated with her own mess as she tried to regain the feeling lost. 

Every nerve felt as if it was lit with fire. 

“I-” She couldn’t even speak, how he left her in a pitiful mess of lust. “I guess you get your answers.” She said. A deal was a deal, but she hadn’t expected him to make her feel like that.

“Hmm,” Sephiroth said, satisfaction coating his voice as his lips felt upon her ear again. “I’ll be waiting for you in your bedroom when you recover.”

Kalista took a deep breath. 

Oh, what games he had in store for her.

#Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy sephiroth #Sephiroth #sephiroth fanfic #sephiroth fanfiction

[naruwitch]

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 31: Battle of Kyushu

"Prince Schneizel, we appreciate you stepping in for Viceroy Cornelia during this time."

"When I heard about what happened I contacted the Emperor immediately," Schneizel said calmly from behind the Viceroy's desk, "I practically insisted that he leave Area 11 in my care until my sister could be recovered."

"Yes, and we're deeply grateful for your assistance. With you here, we can hopefully put a lid on this crisis!" the officer said with a bow.

"Hmmm, well I'm not sure if Area 11's forces will be enough against this Voltron threat, I do hope to at least quell the unrest as soon as possible," Schneizel said honestly.

Suddenly the doors to the office were thrown open and Lord Guilford rushed in, slightly out of breath, "Your Highness!"

Schneizel blinked, slightly startled, "Lord Guilford, what the matter?"

"Prince Schneizel, the enemy has destroyed the great Great Kamon Bridge in Kyushu block!" the knight reported gravely.

"What?!" Kanon exclaimed behind the Prime Minister, who's own eyes widened partially at this news.

"They also cut off vehicle access at four other points, and large numbers of assault landing craft are moving into the Genkai Sea!" Guilford continued.

Schneizel gasped in realization, "The Chinese Federation? Have they made a declaration of war?"

"No, Highness! The crafts are bearing the flag of Japan!"

At this piece of information, Schneizel frowned deep in thought. He had heard rumors that some of the old leaders of the Kururugi Regine had fled to the Federation. He always had a lingering suspicion that one of them could attempt an attack like this with the Chinese backing them up. It seemed they were finally playing this card.

"Send all available military personnel to Kyushu block, push them back!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Guilford said, but the knight didn't depart, meaning that there was something else to be said as well.

"Is there something else?" Schneizel bluntly, but not unkindly.

"There is sir… the military managed to locate Suzaku Kururugi…"

o~o

(Two days ago)

"I've dishonored you," Suzaku said, holding the Purple Bayard out to a shocked Allura, "I'm not worthy to be called a Paladin."

"Suzaku, this is crazy!" Milly protested, "You can't just leave! Even if what Mao said was true-"

"It is true," Suzaku interrupted, looking down remorsefully, "I can't forgive myself…"

"...Has being a Paladin become a burden for you?" Allura asked softly, still not taking the Bayard, "Something that troubles you?"

"No, I'm grateful for it," Suzaku answered honestly.

"Then why?" Allura inquired.

"What Mao said was true, I did kill my own father," Suzaku admitted sadly. Behind Princess Allura, the other Paladins plus Coran stood as well. Most of them gasped save for Lelouch who only grimaced. Coran and Allura looked the most horrified, "I was never punished for it. I just lived on like nothing happened. And right now…" the Purple Paladin looked up, emotion filling his eyes, "...I'm being protected again! Someone like me isn't worthy of being a Paladin of Voltron."

"But Suzaku," Rivalz exclaimed, "We won't be able to form Voltron without you! We need you!"

Suzaku just shook his head, pressing the Purple Bayard into Allura's hands, "There are far more worthy candidates to be Yoru's Paladin here. Like Tohdoh-sensei, or Ohgi… or even you Princess Allura. And if that's not the case, there must be someone else out there."

"Then… what are you going to do?" Shirley asked worriedly.

"I'm going back to Britannia."

This answer resulted in a ripple of protest, demanding to know if Suzaku had lost his mind, and what would he possibly gain from joining the enemy!

"What the hell Kururugi?! You know that Britannia is almost as bad as the Galra!" Kallen practically roared, "And if you want to keep up the pity party you don't have to go crawling back to them! You can work here among the ranks with us!"

"I know. And I'm not interested in changing Britannia inwardly, at least not in the way I originally wished. But at least this way, me returning can at least throw the Empire off our trail."

This reasoning had many of the group looking at Suzaku in bewilderment for a moment before he continued.

"Think about it. Seven missing students, seven Lions. Even without solid evidence, someone is bound to make a hypothesis like that sooner or later. Lelouch, you yourself said your brother is just as intelligent as you, maybe even more so. I wouldn't be surprised if Schneizel already suspects that that's the case here. And C.C. has already theorized that the Emperor is aware that you're Zero. If he can figure that out, he'll figure out who the Paladins are at some point as well. With me returning supposedly out of the blue, it will at least divert their suspicion for a little while, and it will keep our families safer."

"Suzaku…" Shirley said softly, "We don't care what happened back then! You're still a member of the team! Please-"

Lelouch's hand suddenly raised, silencing Shirley. The Black Paladin's expression was pained, but a layer of understanding swam in his eyes as well.

"Suzaku… if you really want to leave, we have no right to stop you…" he said firmly, his dark hair hiding most of his face, "But please, think about what you're doing…"

"...There's no need for that," Suzaku said softly, "My mind's been made." He then looked up and smiled as he turned away, "Thank you for everything."

With that said, Suzaku left the lounge quickly before any lingering thoughts could change his mind. He trudged to the transport hanger, where he had prepared a pod the night before.

"Suzaku!"

The Purple Paladin froze and feared to turn around. Painfully though, he did so.

At the entrance of the hanger, Nunnally had come in her hoverchair. Then incredibly, she forced herself to her feet and tried to run after him, but she only got five steps before she tripped and fell hard on the floor.

With a gasp, Suzaku put his remaining things down and ran to help Nunnally up.

"Nunnally! Are you okay?" he asked.

"Please Suzaku… please don't go!" Nunnally begged, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. Looking deep into them, Suzaku's resolve dangerously wavered.

His own eyes grew moist as he gently picked Nunnally up and set her slowly back on her chair.

"Suzaku…?" Nunnally asked, looking up at him in confusion. He then enveloped her in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Nunnally," he whispered, a small tear trickling down his face

"Huh?" the girl gasped as he pulled away. He all but sprinted to the pod, eyes refusing to look back.

"Suzaku, wait! Come back!" Nunnally shouted, trying to propel the chair forward, but it wouldn't budge. When he had gone to hug her, Suzaku had switched the movement function on the chair off.

"No!" she could only wail as she watched the pod's front close before rocketing out of the launch bay and disappearing from sight.

o~o

Suzaku gasped awake with a jerk. Nunnally's cries of despair and desperation still rang in his head. It took a few seconds to remember where he was as his eyes adjusted to the interrogation chamber he was being held in for the time being.

The second that he contacted the military, Suzaku was immediately taken in for questioning and all of them were ones that he was expecting. Where had he been for the last few months? Where were the other Ashford students? Were they kidnapped, and if so did he have any information on the captors?

Fortunately, Suzaku had been prepared for this. From the moment he decided to leave he thought of a story that he hoped would sound believable. It was true, he was with the six other still-missing Ashford students at Lake Kawaguchi where they were declared missing shortly thereafter.

He said he didn't remember much, but when the seven of them had decided to hike one of the trails, they were jumped by a group of masked assailants. The attack had been so sudden that he hadn't had time to defend himself. Later he would learn that he was actually the first of the group to be taken out. They were taken to a facility and were carefully monitored, given strict diets and 'training' schedules. They were given slots of 'social time' to interact with one another, and he reported that all of them appeared as healthy as he had been. He also suspected that they had been moved around a lot because he remembers times when he would suddenly blackout in his 'room' where a 'caregiver' would watch him eat his meals. They wouldn't leave the room until every speck of food had been eaten.

When asked how he got away, all he could say was that he must have gotten lucky. During one of the moves, the medicine they used to knock them out must not have worked for some reason. He woke up when they were being put into transports. He waited for the right opportunity to jump the captors and get away. He added that he had tried to take Lelouch with him, since he believed the captors didn't know his identity as a prince, and feared for his safety if they ever found out, but Lelouch had instead told Suzaku to find help. Dragging him along would just slow him down. So long as one of them got away the better.

Suzaku had no clue if the soldiers questioning him bought his story or not, but they weren't treating him like a criminal at the moment, so he could only hope it would remain that way. He just prayed that he threw any suspicions of the Paladins identities off for the time being. If anything, he at least bought them a little time.

His reminiscing was interrupted when he heard the doorknob to the room jiggle. He looked up just in time to see a pink blur practically tackle him out of his chair.

"Wha-?" Suzaku gasped before his brain registered who it was.

Euphemia broke off and dusted herself, blushing slightly from the display.

"It's good to see you again, Suzaku," she smiled.

"Euphie..it's good to see you too," he smiled back.

"Well, well, it seems you're quite the lucky man, Suzaku," a cheery voice sounded from the doorway. Looking up, Lloyd, Cecile, and, to Suzaku's honest surprise, Nonette were all standing in the doorway, each smiling, looking glad to see him.

"Suzaku, we're glad to see that you're alright," Cecile said, "the military and police have been looking for you and the others night and day."

For some reason, Suzaku didn't quite believe that. Sure, he was sure that Cecile was being honest from what she knew, but… it was more likely that the military was searching non-stop for Prince Lelouch day and night. While he wasn't sure about the other students, he doubted the military or other authorities would have given a damn if he showed up dead on the street.

To his surprise though, Nonette actually politely bowed to him in the traditional Japanese greeting, "It's an honor to officially meet you, Warrant Officer Kururugi. Earl Asplund and Miss Croomy have spoken very highly of you and your skills as a pilot."

Still partially stunned by such a formal greeting, Suzaku eventually nodded, "Thank you. I've been told you're quite the skilled pilot yourself, Lady Enneagram."

"Please, Nonette is fine," the knight shook her head, "we might as well treat each other as equals if we're going to be working together."

"Working… together?" Suzaku questioned cautiously, not quite understanding what the Knight of Nine was saying.

"Indeed," another voice said from behind the others. Looking up, Suzaku was completely shocked to see Lelouch's half-brother, Schneizel el Britannia walk in with a polite smile. In his hand he was carrying…

"...But… I thought Nonette had started piloting it?" Suzaku protested as he stared at the Lancelot key in the prince's hand.

"That is true, however, Lloyd's data doesn't lie either," the prince argued pleasantly, "You're the only other person with the skills needed to pilot the Lancelot. Besides, there's another project that I've requested Lady Enneagram's assistance with. It may be difficult to believe thanks to… some officers' views, but you are a skilled and valued soldier… Major Kururugi."

Suzaku gasped as his eyes shifted between Euphie, Nonette, Lloyd, and the key in the Prime Minister's hand.

o~o

"We hereby declare the resurrection of Japan as a lawful, independent, and sovereign nation!" the voice of Sawazaki rang over the Castle's monitors as the many of the residents listened to the latest news report of the attack in the Kyushu area.

"Atsushi Sawazaki, leader of the forces that have occupied the Fukuoka military base, was Chief Cabinet Minister of the Kururugi Administration in the former nation of Japan," a man's voice immediately followed.

"After the war, he fled to the Chinese Federation, but is apparently making his move now in response to the recent civil unrest caused by Voltron and Zero." Pictures of both Lelouch's mask identity and Voltron itself flashed on the screen.

"Whether the Black Knights or Voltron have played a role in these unfolding events is still under investigation."

"What the hell?! We're not part of this!" Tamaki shouted in anger. Ohgi, Kaguya, Coran, Kallen, Allura, and Lelouch watched the broadcast carefully.

"Kaguya, was Kyoto aware that this was going to transpire?" Allura asked the girl sternly.

"No," Kaguya answered immediately, "They were completely thrown off guard as well. They were just notified about his unilateral claims over the Sakuradite mining rights."

"I see…" Allura nodded in acknowledgment before turning to Lelouch, who was looking critically up at the screen, "Lelouch, what is our next move? Should we attempt contact or make a statement perhaps?"

"I wouldn't go jumping on that bandwagon just yet," Lelouch decided, "The fact that Sawazaki is being assisted by the Chinese Federation is troubling on its own. It's more likely that he's being used as a puppet for that faction to take Japan for themselves."

"Lelouch, if I may," Coran spoke up, "when you first informed us of your planet's conflict, you seemed to make it clear that Britania and this Chinese Federation certainly aren't allies. If this attack makes them Britannian's enemy, wouldn't that make them an ally for us? What's the saying the humans use? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?'"

"I don't know," Kallen admitted, "From what I've heard the Chinese Federation isn't that much different from Britannia. Isn't that right, Ohgi?"

"As far as I know that is the case," he nodded.

"While it's true that the Federation and Britannia are at odds right now, politically wise, their government isn't too different from Britannia," Kaguya explained, "The Chinese Federation is still an Imperial Monarchy. Officially the Emperor or Empress is the leader, but… the most recent Empress, Tianzi, has little to no power at all. The High Eunuchs are the ones with the power. She acts more as a figurehead. If you look at it a certain way, the Chinese Federation is seen as more of an oligarchic system than anything else. This doesn't make them too different from Britannia's Royal Family… no offense to you Lelouch."

"None taken."

o~o

Meanwhile in the coast of the Kyushu bay, a fierce storm was blowing through the area. The winds were so strong that it was preventing the Britannian forces from calling in any air support. They had no choice but hold out until the storm passed or calmed enough for Knightmares equipped with float systems to sweep in.

"It's a stroke of good fortune that this storm hit," General Tsao, a high ranking general from the Chinese Federation commented victoriously, "We must use it to tighten our grip on Kyushu."

"You see, General Tsao?" Sawazaki boasted proudly next to him, "Heaven is on our side. We're going to prevail in this battle with ease."

o~o

"Martial law is not necessary — such measures would only upset and frighten people," Prince Schneizel calmly reasoned with the two officers in his office, Darlton being one of them, "Contact E.U. Foreign Minister Gandolphi. Oh, and put a call in to the Toromo Agency in Cambodia."

"Prince Schneizel, using the Toromo Agency could be of–"

Darlton wasn't able to finish when the doors to the office opened and Princess Euphemia entered.

"Prime Minister," she stated.

"Yes, Euphie?" Schneizel asked gently as the generals parted to let her through, "Something wrong?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, "I'm still the Sub-Viceroy of Area 11. There must be a way I can assist you."

"Thank you. Just your offer to help me is more than enough," Schneizel answered with a smile.

"But I…" Euphemia protested.

"Before her capture, Viceroy Cornelia ordered you to be kept out of as much military conflict as possible, Sub-Viceroy," Darlton informed her.

"She did…?" Euphie asked sadly, looking down at her feet.

"Uh, no, Sub-Viceroy, let me correct myself," Darlton amended when he saw the princess's expression, "it's just that-"

"Please, understand, Euphie," Schneizel spoke up, "We've already lost Cornelia. If something were to happen to you as well…"

"Wait, you don't really think-" Euphie gasped.

"There hasn't been confirmation of that yet," Schneizel explained carefully, "but the situation is simply too treacherous to take any chances right now."

Euphemia struggled to hold back tears as the feeling of hopelessness rolled over her. Once again she was being forced to the sidelines again. She had never felt so useless before.

"Darlton, concerning the matter we were discussing, I know someone who has a way in with them, so I will ask for help," the prince explained.

"Yes, Your Highness," the general nodded.

o~o

"Man… how long is she going to stay in there?" Rivalz groaned as he leaned against the wall across from Shirley's room.

Not long after Suzaku left the ship, Shirley had abruptly run to her room and locked herself inside. No matter who knocked on the door, or for how long, she refused to open up to them. She didn't even come to dinner that evening or breakfast that morning. Even the plate of food goo that they had left outside her door remained untouched. Everyone was worried about the Orange Paladin, but it was understandable. After all… she had killed someone.

At the moment, Rivalz and Milly were camping outside her room. They had been for the past hour, but no matter how many times they knocked, and even demanded to be let in in Milly's case, Shirley remained silent, stubbornly refusing to answer.

Before Milly could respond, Rai and C.C. came around the corner, with Arthur trotting along beside them as well.

Rai's looked between the door and two teens outside it. Then he sighed, "That bad, huh?"

"Well, what exactly did you expect?" C.C. asked bluntly, "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Shirley may have good intentions, but her mentality is certainly not that of a soldier."

"It's not like we're not willing to help her," Milly argued, "but if she doesn't talk to someone…"

Rai frowned sadly and looked at the door again.

"...I can handle this. Could you give us some space?" he finally asked before standing in front of the door.

Reluctantly, Rivalz, and Milly slowly picked themselves up and left. C.C. did as well shortly after. Once they were out of sight, Rai felt something nuzzle his legs. Looking down, he saw Arthur rubbing up against his ankle, before looking up at the Green Paladin with a soft 'mrow.'

With a small smile, he knocked lightly on the door.

"Shirley, it's Rai. Can I come in?" he asked cautiously.

It took several seconds, and for a moment Rai thought that Shirley wouldn't answer, until finally, he heard the small buzz of the door unlocking. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he entered with Arthur trailing close behind.

Rai easily spotted the Orange Paladin, sitting on her bed hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes looked hollow and there were dry tear marks on her cheeks. Looking up, he noticed that two of the trash nebula creatures were floating close by, but from the sounds of their squeaks, they hadn't been successful in lighting Shirley's mood at all and seemed relieved that someone else had finally come.

Arthur actually made the first move, immediately leaping onto the bed and settling snuggly at Shirley's side, purring softly.

Following the cat's lead, Rai slowly approached her other side, cautiously sitting down, and - after silently debating with himself - draped an arm around her shoulders. Shirley didn't react and Rai took that as a good thing. At least she didn't start screaming or demanding for him to get out and leave her alone.

There was a heavy silence in the room for a while as Rai tried to figure out how to start talking. The only noise was Arthur's soft purring and the occasional squeak from one of the fuzzy aliens.

"...You made the right call in there," he finally said, "if you hadn't done it, Mao would've killed Lelouch and blown up the Castle. And who knows what would have happened to the Lions… You saved everyone."

"...I know that," Shirley mumbled softly, seeming to tighten her grip around her legs, "I know that he was evil, and if I hadn't, I… but… I-I can't handle it!"

She finally moved, letting go of her legs, and burying her face in her hands.

"C.C… she warned me that this could happen!" she sobbed, "She warned me that I'd have to do it eventually! But… I-I don't…"

"You just don't know if you can handle it, right?" Rai finished for her softly.

Shirley whined, practically collapsing against Rai's shoulder. He gently ran a hand down her back, waiting for her sobs to calm before speaking again.

"I understand. I've killed a lot as well," he said honestly, but not proudly. Shirley looked up at him, surprise shining in her eyes. He smiled bitterly, "Don't look so surprised, I'm a gladiator, remember?" Shirley's shoulders slumped as she remembered that detail about her crush.

"Anyway, I don't… I don't remember much about what happened while I was there," Rai continued, "but, I do know that every time I was put out there in the ring, each fight was either live or die. Only one of us would walk out of there still breathing. Some were bad, other gladiators like me, who actually enjoyed killing. Others… others were simply other prisoners, trying to survive just like me. All for Zarkon's entertainment…"

Shirley peaked up at his face. It was holding a pained frown and his eyes were haunted.

"Whenever I sleep... I always see myself in that same pit again. There's so much noise; all the spectators yelling and cheering... The monsters I fight roaring at me... And all I have is a sword, sometimes half a sword. I'm only given armor or even a shield for 'special' fights. I look up, and I see that monster sitting on his throne, his eyes baring down on me like the devil. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm facing an enemy that wants me dead. But... I do it. I endure it. Because my life doesn't end here. I have people that I love waiting for me, people I want to protect. I have my mother and my sister, but now it's more than just that."

He leaned back and smiled, though it looked fairly forced from what Shirley could see, "Now I have Allura, Lelouch, Kallen, Suzaku, Rivalz, Milly, Coran, and so many others... I got you to Shirley. And I know you have the same thing. You have people who love you, people who care about you, people that are worth protecting. Mao is not going to be the only one. We're probably going to fight people that we might have to kill, if not to save our own lives, but maybe even so many others. If we can avoid it, great; but if not, we have to do it. Taking someone's life is never easy, and it's something you never get used to. Something you shouldn't get used to. But as long as you have faith in the people who are willing to help you share that burden, and the cause that you fight for, then you'll never stray from your path. I already know what I'm fighting for, what you are fighting for?"

Shirley felt tears gather in her eyes again, but they weren't of sorrow. Rai's speech had really touched her and helped her see a different perspective of everything. Yes, the guilt of what she did didn't leave, it likely never would, but a mix of the Green Paladin's words and Arthur's constant purring dampened it.

Speaking of Arthur, the cat took the opportunity to climb onto Shirley's lap, curling up tightly.

Shirley remained silent for a moment, before she clenched her fists, eyes lighting up in determination.

"I want to fight to protect the weak. I'm a Paladin of Voltron!" she exclaimed.

Rai smiled proudly as he wrapped her in a warm embrace.

"Thank you, Rai," she whispered.

"Anytime," he replied.

o~o

"Hey…"

"Oh, hi!" the newly named Chigusa smiled as she greeted Ohgi who rounded a corner of the hallway into the kitchen. The amnesiac had been sorting through various seed packs that the Paladins had brought back from Earth when they had dropped the Black Knights off. In hopes of providing a more diverse, but still slightly familiar diet to the crew, the Paladins discussed with Coran and the Princess of starting a greenhouse in one of the more temperature-controlled rooms and possibly bringing up some chickens and cows in a different room for some eggs, milk, and protein as well. The idea certainly seemed to intrigue the Alteans and they agreed to give it a shot at the very least.

Most of the crew had returned after learning what happened, and it became clear that just because they were in space didn't mean that they were untouchable. Yes, the Galra could come at any time, and Rakshata and her team, along with Coran, were working rigorously to get a space Knightmare ready for testing. However, the fact that Mao managed to sneak onto the ship was still baffling. Although the Castle's security was high for most unknown lifeforms entering and exiting the ship, the crew started a rotation where at least one Black Knight was on camera duty at all times.

The Paladins eventually came to the conclusion that Mao must have snuck onto one of the Lions while they were on Earth. Why none of the Lions had reacted to an intruder entering them was another mystery, but then again it was exactly how C.C. managed to sneak on board Polaris in the first place as well.

If any good things came out of the situation, it was that Ohgi noticed that Villetta-no Chigusa he had to remind himself- seemed to be more at ease around the others on the ship, which honestly surprised him. Perhaps it was because they showed that they did care for her safety, despite her status in her lost memories. He was personally happy with the new name too, and thought it was adorable that Nunnally had been the one to pick it. She had good taste.

"Look," he said, hesitating for a second, "I realized I never personally apologized for what happened the other day. I was put in charge of keeping an eye on you, and you almost got killed. So… I'm sorry."

Chigusa shook her head, "You don't need to apologize Kaname," she said reassuringly, "sometimes things happen that are out of our control. Unless you personally asked Mao to kidnap me, none of this is your fault."

"Well… still, I wish there was more I could do," he admitted, "I'll admit, I feel pretty useless right now. I mean, the only ones that can actually go out and fight are the Paladins right now until we can get some Knightmares up and running."

Chigusa chuckled, "Well if you're looking for something to do, you can help look through these seed packs. I'll admit my Japanese is a bit rusty, and some of these are in your language."

"Oh, sure," he smiled, walking over to the counter.

o~o

Suzaku scratched his arm as the tight fabric of the Lancelot suit irritated his skin. A folder lay in front of him at the table inside of the Camelot division's quarters. A mission briefing to be exact. The second that the current storm showed signs of letting up, Suzaku was to take the Lancelot into battle against Sawazaki and push him and the Chinese Federation troops back. A mission perfect for the Lancelot. He would be able to clear a path for the rest of Britannia's forces to swoop in and finish the job that way.

The door opened next to him and Cecile walked in with a pleasant smile.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said, holding out some tea and rice balls to him.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Cecile," he said graciously, taking one of the rice balls. If Suzaku was honest, he really missed the taste of his native country's cuisine. He hoped the greenhouse project worked out back at the Castle so that the other Paladins could have a piece of Earth back with them as well.

Cecile smiled warmly as Suzaku ate. He had to restrain himself from devouring the food. Miss Cecile was a great cook.

"Suzaku, just so you know, I really am glad that you're alright," Cecile said honestly, "We spent every spare minute we could looking for you and those friends of yours."

Suzaku smiled. He could tell that Cecile really meant what she said. "I appreciate it, Miss Cecile. And I want to thank you as well. Ever since I got here, you've always been kind to me, even though I'm an Eleven. I'm really thankful for everything you've done."

"Oh, I really didn't do that much," she denied, "Honestly, most of the time I'm sad that I can't do more, but I can tell that you're a good person, Suzaku. Despite what most of the rest say, I don't really care about Britannia's views on race. I personally think the whole number system is stupid. In my eyes, you're a person who wants to change the world for the better, and I assure you, you'll have my support no matter what happens."

With a final smile, Cecile turned and left to let Suzaku finish his food.

"No matter what, huh?" he muttered, glancing down at the key to the Lancelot. For a moment, the small drive disappeared, being replaced by the cool handle of the Purple Bayard.

He'd admit the time he spent with the other Paladins had been a pleasant reprise. He'd honestly felt happier than he had in a long time simply being there with everyone. Just… being be.

Which was why a sin like the one he carried shouldn't drag them down. Though he was no longer a Paladin, he would work on his end to help achieve peace for Earth and the universe. That was the best he could do now… right?

o~o

"Princess, you wished to see us?" Tohdoh asked as he and the Four Holy Swords entered the lounge she had specified over the intercom. Waiting with her were Kallen and Lelouch, who gestured to the couches behind them.

"Please have a seat," Lelouch invited and waited patiently for them to settle.

"We'll get straight to the point," Allura said promptly, "Regarding this Sawazaki character's actions in Kyushu, we wish to get your personal opinions on the situation. Would it wiser to view him as a potential ally or an enemy as of now?"

"Sawazaki was always a coward," Chiba responded immediately with a scowl, "He may have supported the movement for Japan to fight after surrendering, but the second he got he fled to the Chinese Federation with barely any warning at all."

"True," Urabe nodded, "And neither Kyoto nor the JLF had heard a peep out of him up until now."

"How do the kids put it nowadays? 'All bark, no bite?'" Senba quipped bitterly.

"Most likely, the Chinese are using Sawazaki for their own agenda," Asahina agreed, "He's just a front. I have no doubt that he cooked up some sort of agreement with them in order to get them to cooperate. Who knows what'll happen should this siege succeed."

The three nodded, taking in the information. A couple more questions followed, regarding Sawazaki's loyalty to Prime Minister Kururugui and other actions during the Pacific War. As more information was gathered, the more Lelouch saw that Sawazaki was more like a rat who preferred to work in the shadows, and only strike when the enemy's guard seemed down. While a decent strategy, it was a cowardly one as well, just like Chiba first said.

After feeling like they gathered all they could, Lelouch nodded, "All right, thank you. Now if you everyone doesn't mind, there's something I want to discuss with Tohdoh in private."

"You sure?" Kallen asked.

"Yes, please," Lelouch nodded firmly.

Reluctantly, everyone slowly trickled out of the room, with Kallen lingering a moment longer at the door before finally stepping out, the door sliding shut behind her.

"Can I assume that what you want to talk to me about is what happened to Suzaku's father?" Tohdoh asked calmly, looking at Lelouch expectantly.

"Yes," Lelouch nodded, "We got the gist of it thanks to Mao, but I want to know what really happened if you're willing to explain."

Tohdoh sighed wearily before speaking, "Well, as I'm sure you're already aware, Prime Minister Genbu Kururugi did call for a do-or-die resistance when Britannia invaded. Suzaku feared that this would lead to the deaths of millions, which of course it would, and he attempted to oppose his father and convince him to change his mind. However, the Prime Minister was one of the most stubborn people I ever met, and he refused. When it became clear that reason was no longer an option, Suzaku raised a knife against him, but even then, Genbu called his bluff. I don't think I need to elaborate further about what happened afterward."

"Suzaku used that knife and killed his own father with it," Lelouch confirmed with a grim frown.

Tohdoh nodded once, "When that happened, Kyoto made up the yarn of the Prime Minister's suicide, in order to protect Suzaku. If the truth ever came out, the Japanese citizens would no doubt attempt to take revenge, even though he was still a child. Not long after, Suzaku went on to join the Britannian military, making claims of creating a change from the inside."

"In reality, he sees it as his penance, correct?" Lelouch guessed, "A way to atone for an unforgivable crime he committed."

Tohdoh remained silent, but Lelouch didn't need an answer to know that he was correct.

With a sigh of his own, Lelouch got to his feet, "Thank you."

Just as he reached the door, Tohdoh spoke, "You've changed Lelouch. When I first met you, you were a small, spiteful boy that was always angry at the world. Now, I don't see that child. You've grown into a leader that people can trust. And includes myself."

Lelouch smiled and glanced back at the Colonel as the doors slid open.

"Thanks."

o~o

'A figurehead,' Euphemia li Britannia pondered as she gazed up at a portrait of her late brother Clovis, 'that's all I was from the start. I knew that, but I thought if I gave my best effort, maybe I could make some difference. Forgive me, Clovis. I met Zero face-to-face but I didn't avenge your death… I have to think of some way to save Lelouch and Nunnally, but how? I don't have the kind of power that my sister had. I'm not like her or Schneizel. No matter where I go, I'm just a burden, and I act selfishly, though I don't mean to… maybe if I had tried harder, Cornelia wouldn't…'

Euphemia choked back a sob as thoughts of her sister, and her unknown status lurked in her mind. It was agonizing to not know if Cornelia was alright, or even alive right now. She was sure that Lelouch wouldn't kill her, but as for the other Black Knights, she wasn't so sure. They technically had the right to do it, considering the damage Cornelia had brought to their home.

"Sister, please hold on for me…"

o~o

"Oh yeah, they told me about you," the museum's security guard said, looking at the form that had been handed to him, "You need to get the document signed today, right? But a member of the Royal Family is viewing the art right now."

"Huh? Which member is it?" Nina Einstein asked.

o~o

"Wait, so you're saying…" Tamaki began as he and the rest of the Black Knights looked up at Zero from the ballroom floor. Lelouch with his Zero guise on was standing at the top of the chamber's steps, the remaining Paladins, Allura, Coran, Kaguya, Tohdoh, and Ohgi by his side. Nunnally was also there, with Sayoko and C.C. by her side.

"We aren't going to collaborate with Sawazaki. He's not independent, he's a puppet of the Chinese Federation." Lelouch stated.

"But he says he's fighting for Japan," one of the Black Knights protested below.

"Japan would get a new name and a new master but nothing would change," Lelouch leveled his head, "His Japan is a sham."

"Yeah…" Asahina said, "so what you're really saying is…"

"That when Britannia strikes back we play dead?" Urabe finished.

"Zero," Tohdoh said, "Perhaps you should clarify our goal."

"Yeah," Ohgi agreed, "I mean, preparing for the Galra's arrival is clear, but how exactly are we going to do that?"

The Black Paladin's answer shocked everyone.

"Our first step is making Japan an independent nation."

"Independent?!" Kallen's eyes went wide as she stared at Lelouch, along with most of the rest of the Paladins.

"Is he serious?!" Rivalz gasped.

"A nation?!" Asahina exclaimed.

"You mean us?!"

"An independent country?!"

"Wait a minute!" Ohgi stepped forward. "No matter how much the Black Knights have expanded-"

"Our enemy is an empire that controls one-third of the world. And the Galra are an alien race that has conquered almost the entire universe!" Chiba finished.

"We can't pull that off alone!" Tamaki stepped forward.

"We must!" Zero countered, "We must send a message to not just Britannia, but the Galra as well! And that is this: You don't need to be a super-power to be strong and stand on your own two feet. However, creating an independent country is only the first step! The second is to build a coalition of nations to unite Earth together! That includes both the smaller countries and other superpowers, as well as those from Britannia. Only then will the final stage be accessible. A truly united Earth, where there are no more divisions. Simply one planet with one people standing together. Though separate nations will continue to exist, we'll stand united. Only then can Earth take the next step of becoming part of the Universe!"

o~o

The sun began to set behind the horizon as Princess Euphemia's transport began to depart the museum.

"Princess Euphemia!" Nina screamed desperately as she attempted to run past a security guard, only to be grabbed roughly from behind.

Euphemia gasped from inside the limousine as Nina was wrestled to the ground.

"Secure the perimeter!" the head guard ordered, ignoring Nina's protests, "Code Delta! We have a Code Delta!"

"Please!" Nina begged, "I just want to- Princess Euphemia! To get-a look at her!"

"Secure all exits!" Another guard shouted as several more began to surround the distraught student.

Looking bewildered at the sight, Euphemia gasped as recognition spread across her face. That was the same girl from Kawaguchi. The one she saved from those JLF terrorists.

"We got a suspicious girl at the building's perimeter!" more shouts followed as Nina's tears fell freely down her face.

"Stop it!" Euphemia ordered, stepping out of the limo, "That girl is a personal friend of mine!"

o~o

"Wow, Lelouch, I honestly wasn't expecting that bombshell to be dropped in there!" Rai commented as the Paladins, accompanied by Allura, Coran, C.C., Nunnally, Sayoko, and Kaguya, returned to the bridge.

"It makes sense though when you think about it," Milly continued, "You gotta lay the foundation somewhere as they always say."

"While this development has truly uplifted the spirits of the Black Knights, there is still another problem," Allura said, sad to have to return to this topic. "Without Suzaku to pilot his Lion, it is impossible to form Voltron. And we can not win this war without him."

"Meaning, we either need to choose a new Paladin or somehow convince Suzaku to rejoin us," C.C. concluded.

"Well, we obviously aren't going to replace him, right?!" Rivalz exclaimed, "I can't think of anyone else that could pilot Yoru as well he can!"

"Even so, Rivalz," Kallen murmured, "It's like Lelouch said the other day. We can't force him to stay. Plus, doesn't our bond as Paladins rely on willingness and trust too? It's something like that, right Coran?"

"Indeed," the older Altean nodded, "the only way Voltron can form properly and function at all is because you all trust one another. You have no doubt of your loyalty. However, with this secret now out in the open, I wouldn't be surprised that if we forced Suzaku to stay, that would have greatly affected or damaged the Paladin bond, making it that much harder to fight. Why even the bond he developed with his own Lion could have been damaged."

Lelouch grimaced at that. He knew exactly what that felt like. After all, he went through the exact same thing after they invaded Zarkon's main base. If he was being honest, a small part of him was still wary of Zenobia's loyalty to him. Whether his bond with her was really strong enough to overcome Zarkon's.

"So… what do we do then?" Milly asked, scowling a little, "It seems… it seems wrong to replace him just like that. I mean, wouldn't us doing that only solidify his decision to stay away? It would just prove to him that he's replaceable when he's not!"

"When you think about it though, a lot of what we learned from Mao's actions makes sense regarding Suzaku," Lelouch murmured.

"What do you mean?" Rai asked.

"He's at odds with himself... because he used to be different," Lelouch continued, remembering the younger Suzaku at the Kururugi Shrine, "He never placed any importance on another person. Why, it was tough enough for me to kill my half-brother. But Suzaku killed his father when he was only ten years old, and he's been carrying that burden around all these years…"

"I can't imagine the pain he's been in all this time," Allura said softly.

"Just killing someone in general…" Shirley whispered, looking sadly at her feet, her eyes haunted, "I mean… I'm the one that did it. I killed Mao. Someone I knew was a homicidal maniac. But even still knowing that…"

Silence followed, a heavy weight seemed to hang in the air as they thought of their missing friend. Their missing brother. They wanted to help him, but how could they…

"Hold on," Rai suddenly said, "There's something I still don't get. Even if Suzaku didn't want to be a Paladin anymore, worthy or not, why did he choose to go back to Britannia of all places? He could easily have been absorbed into the Black Knights as a ground soldier or pilot. Heck, he could have simply stayed on the Castle as a tenant if he really wanted to. Plus, I doubt his main reasoning was simply to help cover up our identities…"

Lelouch grimaced. He had a theory, and it wasn't a pretty one.

"Do you all remember when I told you how C.C. and I met, way back in Shinjuku? When I got my Geass?" Lelouch questioned.

Everyone's eyes were suddenly on him, dubious expressions on their faces.

"Yeah… you said Suzaku was there too," Rivalz remembered, "he helped you and C.C. get away."

"Well, that is true," Lelouch nodded, "but… there's a little more to it than that. And now that I know Suzaku's secret, it makes so much more sense now."

"What happened?" Kallen asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, shortly after C.C.'s canister opened, and after Suzaku revealed who he was to me, there was a group of soldiers directly under Prince Clovis's command that found us and cornered us. They knew what the real mission was, which was to recapture C.C., but Suzaku had been briefed that it was poison gas that had been stolen. So he was just as surprised as me when C.C. came tumbling out instead."

Kallen couldn't quite hide the grimace on her face as he memory of that day flashed in her mind again, but she held her tongue as Lelouch continued.

"Anyway, despite the fact that it was clear that I was a Britannian student, the captain ordered Suzaku to kill me. To not leave any witnesses. But Suzaku refused to follow that order and defended that I had nothing to do with this. He was practically begging for them to let me go… He knew… As a Britannian soldier, especially an Honorary Britannian, an Eleven, that defying an order like that would have consequences. Deadly consequences."

"...It's a death sentence," Milly was the one to say it aloud.

"Exactly," Lelouch nodded, "Suzaku knew that all too well. He made no attempt to stop them either. Didn't even resist. Why he was even smiling when the captain shot him."

The sense of foreboding seemed to triple in the room, as all the occupants came to a terrifying realization, but none of them dared to speak aloud.

Nunnally, who had stayed quiet for most of the conversation along with Sayoko, swallowed back bile from the sick feeling she had in her stomach.

"Lelouch... what... what are you saying...?"

The Black Paladin's answer felt like a guillotine's blade falling.

"He wants to die."

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room - even C.C. looked stunned. It was only then that the horror of the situation was truly realized.

"He thinks if he dies for a cause he believes to be right, it might redeem him," Lelouch continued, "You all heard what he said when he left, he wants to be punished for what he did."

"We can't let that happen!" Nunnally blurted out, leaping to her feet. Sayoko tensed, ready to catch the girl if she started falling, "We have to help him!"

"Yeah, this… isn't there some sort of medical term for this?" Shirley asked.

"Medical term?" Coran asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, it's called 'Survivor's Guilt' on Earth," Rai elaborated, "It's when a person has feelings of guilt because they survived a life-threatening situation when others didn't. It goes hand-and-hand with PTSD too. Usually, this should be a fairly natural reaction if something bad happens, but this is being taken to the extreme."

"I do know that a lot of war veterans go through something like that at some point," Milly added.

"Still, Suzaku was ten!" Rivalz protested, "He probably didn't even know what he was even doing!"

"I'm sure once we convince him to come back, we can assist him in understanding that," Allura reasoned.

"Everyone, calm down," Lelouch said, "I want to help Suzaku too, but we need to be careful about this. One wrong move and we risk our identities getting exposed and that will bring its own plethora of problems."

"Well, we aren't just going to leave him be, right?" Shirley exclaimed.

"Of course not," Lelouch scowled, looking almost offended, "We just need the right opportunity…" he glanced up at the monitor displaying the battle happening at Kyushu back on Earth, "...In fact, I might have an idea."

o~o

"Incoming missiles. Appears to be coming from Fukuoka base! One minute, five seconds to impact!"

"An air raid?" Suzaku asked from inside the cockpit of the Lancelot. Due to the Avalon being destroyed thanks to Voltron, the Camelot unit was currently on a smaller airship dubbed the Le Fay. The overall structure was the same as the Avalon (at least according to what Suzaku had been told), including the ports where the Knightmares were located.

"We'll be fine in this position," Cecile answered over the intercom.

Suzaku found himself nodding as he felt the impact from the missiles beneath the Lancelot, the Le Fay's lower shields absorbing the attack. Any moment now he would be ordered to deploy from the transport and into the battle below

He hunched over in his chair, ready to act the second he was told.

Strangely though, he felt… out of place. Suddenly, the superior armor of the Lancelot felt like only thin layers of tin foil, and he found himself shifting his hands repeatedly over the controls. He feels exposed like he could be shot at any moment, and the Knightmare's cockpit won't be able to stop anything.

Not like in Yoru. Who wasn't another machine, but… a part of him...

Suzaku shook his head. He couldn't think about that now. He made his choice. Made his bed, now had to lay in it.

So why did he still feel like there was a gaping hole in his chest now?

"Major Kururugi, I'm laying out the mission plan for final verification," Cecile's voice rang again through the cockpit as a screen lit up in front of him with a map of the area, "This ship will breach the enemy's front line from high altitude and move directly to the launch point. The advanced weapon systems Z01-Lancelot using the Float Unit will attack the enemy headquarters at Fukuoka base. The Float Unit consumes energy fast so pay attention to your operation time."

"Yes, My Lord," Suzaku acknowledged, his hands running over the throttles once more, before pressing down on the button. The Lancelot leaned forward, in position ready to launch into battle, "M.E. boost."

"Lancelot Unit, now launching!" Cecile exclaimed.

"Launch!" Suzaku parroted before the familiar pressure of the air in his face from shooting forward hit him.

The Knightmares charged down the launching system and shot off the ramp of the Le Fay. The Float Unit unfolded on Lancelot's back, propelling him towards the enemy base.

'Here we go,' Suzaku thought as his eyes zeroed in on the mission.

o~o

"The enemy ship seems to have launched a bomber but it's moving faster than a fighter plane!" a soldier alerted Sawazaki and General Tsao as they gazed at a map of their own.

"I have picture," another soldier informed as a pop-up screen appeared, showing the form of the Lancelot speeding towards them. Gasps were heard all around the command center.

"A Knightmare?!" Sawazaki gasped.

"It's not being transported; it's just flying on its own!" Tsao realized.

"That weapons report we got, could this be it?!" Sawazaki realized.

"You mean that novelty weapon?" General Tsao asked.

"So then, the pilot must be-" Sawazaki's eyes widened. If it was true that he had been found, then there was only one explanation.

o~o

"The military force that's trying to occupy the Kyushu block is fighting under ex-Minister Atsushi Sawazaki. If they lose him, the new Japanese government will collapse very quickly. In that case, the Chinese Federation will lose their excuse for being here and have to withdraw."

Suzaku remembered Lloyd's explanation from before the mission as the Lancelot twirled gracefully around dozens of missiles fired towards him from several helicopters. With a grunt, he fired a single slash harken from the Lancelot, catching one of the helicopters and twirling it around, making it crash into the others.

Despite this though, Suzaku couldn't help but feel like the Lancelot felt jerky compared to that of Yoru's fluid movements when she weaved around asteroids and Galran fighters.

"There it is…" Suzaku muttered as he spotted the enemy base, blocking an attack from another aircraft with his Blaze Luminous. "The enemy headquarters."

Then a beeping sound caught his attention.

"An open channel?" Suzaku gasped as a grainy image of Sawazaki glitched onto the screen.

"This is Minister Sawazaki," the politician addressed, "is that Prime Minister Kururugi's son in the pilot seat?" Suzaku gave no answer. "I see. I didn't know he had a son like you."

o~o

"Are you sure about this Prime Minister?" Nonette asked as she settled into the seat of the large black Knightmare waiting to be launched from another port on the Le Fay, Prince Schneizel's face displayed in front of her, "I'd much rather prefer to fight with Kururugi than use him like this. It feels like we're playing dirty."

"I understand your concern Lady Enneagram," Schneizel reasoned, "but this is the best course of action to stop this attack and avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Besides, Major Kururugi is an excellent pilot. He won't go down without a fight.

"...I understand Prime Minister," Nonette could only mutter as the Gawain's cockpit slowly closed and the power-up systems began.

o~o

"-and then, when you saved me," Nina explained fervently, kneeling by a small fire pit in front of Princess Euphemia, "Princess Euphemia — I'll never forget it — you looked like some kind of goddess… like you were bathed in radiant light."

Nina suddenly gasped in realization, as she fidgeted in the dress she was now wearing, "Oh, forgive me! I should have thanked you for these change of clothes you gave me."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Nina," Euphie smiled softly, "Besides, I'm not at all the wonderful person you think I am. I'm no good compared to my brother and sister…"

"No, that's not true!" Nina nearly shouted in horror, as Euphemia looked up with a gasp, "How can you say that about yourself…? There's not one good thing about me… really, nothing at all. My parents are ordinary, I'm not the least bit pretty, and there's just nothing special about me!" the spectacled girl lamented, looking at her clasped hands in shame.

"That's wrong, Nina. I think you're a very cute girl," Euphie argued, hoping to cheer her up.

Nina looked up with a gasp, her cheeks dusting with red before looking down in embarrassment, "Oh, no… I'm not really good for anything… not at all. And now…" Nina had tears in her eyes now, "Now all of my friends have gone missing, and I'm the only one left! And now there's that Voltron-monster that could attack at any time. I just feel… Why am I so useless?!"

Euphemia gazed at the girl in front of her with sympathy. She understood what this girl was feeling all too well.

'She hates herself. But so do I… both my sister Cornelia and Nunnally and even Lelouch are missing, and I can't do a thing about it to help...'

"I guess I understand, but Suzaku makes me uneasy," Nina murmured off-handedly.

Euphemia's eyes suddenly widened as the fire crackled next to them.

'That's it! Suzaku feels badly too!' She had seen it. Sure he hadn't really explained why, but it was clear that Suzaku was in pain somehow. It had always been present, from the moment she first met him, to reuniting with him just the other day, but now it was much more pronounced.

"So please, oh please, don't say that you're no good, Princess Euphemia! I beg of you!" Nina pleaded, desperately, "Because… because… I need you… I need your goodness."

Euphemia smiled, "Thank you so much, Nina. I'm glad I got to know you. You've really helped me understand!"

o~o

With a hiss, the doors to the vacant Purple Lion's chamber opened. The Lion, dubbed Yoru by her good, honored-bound Paladin, usually would look proud and strong as she sat on her hind legs, her shield up to prevent intruders from getting in.

Now, a sense of melancholy seemed to darken her features, her head even looked slightly tilted down. If she had the ability to, there would no doubt by streaks of tears running down her snout. She had felt her sisters leave the ship just moments ago, but with no Paladin to fly her, she would be nothing but a nuisance, a wild beast on the battlefield.

"She looks so sad," Nunnally's small voice murmured as she gazed up at the Lion from the hoverchair, Sayoko and C.C. flanking her.

"Lady Nunnally, your intentions are noble," the kunoichi maid said, "but you don't even know how to pilot a Knightmare."

"Not to mention that it's ultimately up the Lion if you can even step foot on board," C.C. added, "According to Allura, the Lion chooses the pilot. I hope you realize there's still the chance you could be rejected."

"I know that!" Nunnally exclaimed firmly, "But… my brother and his friends are down there. I can't just sit back and not do anything. Not while Suzaku is…"

She grit her teeth as she pushed herself off her chair. She almost immediately fell, only for the two women to catch her and steady her. Once regaining her footing, she straightened, and with small, careful steps approached Yoru's barrier. Once within arm's reach, she placed a hand gently atop of the forcefield.

"I know I'm not Suzaku, but... but he needs help. I want to help him, and you're the only one who can let me help him!" Nunnally exclaimed, practically begging with the Lion, "Please... he's... he's like a second brother to me... and I know he means a lot to you too!" Nunnally gasped as tears welled in her eyes, "Suzaku... he... he wants to sacrifice himself! I know this is selfish but... please! I'm begging you! Help me save him!"

There were several seconds of dead silence. Then with a flash, Yoru's eyes blazed golden. With a gasp, hearing a distant roar in her head, Nunnally stumbled falling back, the particle barrier vanishing.

Behind her, Sayoko and C.C. gazed in awe as the Lion roared to life.

As Yoru lowered her head to let her pilot in, Nunnally shakily got back to her feet, a relieved, emotional smile on her face.

o~o

"This has nothing to do with my father. I came here to put an end to this fighting. I will accept your surrender," Suzaku said stoically as he landed the Lancelot on the ground below the wheels squealing against the metal surface.

"You want to rob Japan of its dream of freedom?" Sawazaki asked.

"Freedom has to come the right way, not like this," Suzaku replied. However, as the words left his tongue, they felt hollow to him. His time as a Paladin really helped open his eyes. If Voltron took this approach with Zarkon, they would get nowhere. But what else did he have now? Saying that phrase now simply felt like he was falling into an annoying habit again.

"You act out of selfishness? It's justice without ideology," Sawazaki retorted.

"No, you're wrong! That's not what I-" Suzaku was cut off as something exploded behind him. The VARIS rifle flew out of the Lancelot's hand and was destroyed a second later as Knightmares moved out and attacked.

"My VARIS…" Suzaku grunted as he looked at the Knightmares. "These are Chinese Federation Gun-Rus!"

o~o

Sawazaki smirked cockily as he watched Suzaku getting ambushed, "He allowed me to distract him. He still has much to learn!"

o~o

Back at the Viceroy's Palace, Euphemia walked confidently up to her brother's desk. The Prime Minister seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with Darlton, both their faces were grim.

"Euphie?" Schneizel questioned, honestly surprised to see her.

"Schneizel, may I have access to a private communication line?"

o~o

Suzaku grunted the Blaze Luminous on the Lancelot's left arm exploded along with his Float Unit as he tried to take cover behind some crates. However, dodging attacks was the least of his problems as warning lights began to beep repeatedly throughout the cockpit. "My energy filler!"

o~o

Back on the Le Fay, the Camelot Unit was in a near panic.

"Are you kidding?!" Lloyd exclaimed, turning to Cecile. "They blasted off the float!"

"The Le Fay has to strike at the base!" Cecile said urgently.

"No, the shield doesn't completely surround us! One direct hit and we'll go down in flames!" Lloyd panicked, gripping his head almost ripping his hair out.

"Suzaku, reroute all power to combat and comm systems!" Cecile ordered promptly, looking down at her console.

o~o

"Got it!" Suzaku replied before rushing to do so, trying to stay calm. The factspheres on the Lancelot shut down.

"You had better surrender, Suzaku," Sawazaki sneered, "Since you're Prime Minister Kururugi's son I guarantee you will be very well treated, my boy."

"I decline. If I used my father's name for this I'd never forgive myself," Suzaku retorted, as Knightmares surrounded him, "This is between you and me."

"I see…You are very much your father's son, as foolish and stubborn as he was."

Suzaku growled, wracking his brain to figure a way out of the situation he was in.

"Suzaku Kururugi!" the voice made Suzaku's eyes widen as he looked up and saw…

"Princess Euphemia!" Suzaku gasped.

"Suzaku, the truth is you and I…That is…" Euphemia trailed off.

"Sorry." Suzaku wheeled the Lancelot out and attacked the enemy Knightmares. "But right now…"

"You see…I hereby command you to love me!" Euphemia shouted.

"Right… Wait, what?!" Suzaku stopped upon realizing what Euphemia had said, his eyes bugged out.

o~o

"Huh?" Cecile gasped too at what she just heard.

"What? What is it?!" Lloyd asked anxiously, his eyes wild.

"Uh…Sorry but this is private." Cecile said, her face flushing as she removed her headpiece.

o~o

"And in return, I will love you! Forever!" Euphemia continued steadfastly.

"Princess Euphemia!" Suzaku gasped as he weaved around the enemy bullets.

"Suzaku, I love your stubbornness and your kindness and your strength! Your sad eyes, your clumsiness, and the way you have trouble with cats! I love everything about you! When you disappeared, I thought about you every day! I hoped that you'd one day be found and come back to me!" Suzaku fired his flash harken once more as the Princess went on, "So please, don't hate yourself!"

For a moment, Suzaku found himself at a loss of words, before he smiled softly, "I see that I've made you even more worried than I did before. You really are…" like a whip, the Lancelot threw one Knightmare against several more, making them fall like dominos, "Everything you do is impulsive. When we first met, when you told me you were a princess, when you selected my school — always!"

"Yes, they were all sudden," Euphemia confirmed with a smile, "but that's because…I suddenly realized..."

"But then it's that spur of the moment feeling that's opened so many doors for me." Suzaku wheeled the Lancelot towards the enemy command center. "Thank you."

o~o

"What are you doing?!" Sawazaki exclaimed, feeling panic rising in him for the first time that evening, "Stop him now!"

o~o

Suzaku opened his eyes. "Princess, can I make one final request?"

"Final?" Euphemia gasped on the other side.

"Please, transfer this to a separate line," Suzaku requested, "one that no else is using."

Euphemia was confused but did as he said. Suzaku followed suit in the Lancelot.

Suzaku knew what he said next had to stay between himself and the Princess. No one, especially from Britannia could overhear this.

"Euphie, I just want you to know… your sister, Cornelia, and Lelouch and Nunnally, they're all right. They're safe and being well-taken care of," he explained the best he could.

"Wha-they are?" Euphemia gasped, hope and joy bubbling inside her.

"Yes," Suzaku nodded as the Lancelot's energy filler blinked on its final bar, the enemy sweeping in for a final blow, "You may see them again really soon, and when you do there'll be a surprise for you. A good one."

Euphemia gasped happily in relief upon hearing this. But something told her that Suzaku wasn't finished.

"And also, when you see them again, please deliver a message for me. Tell them, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for them. I'm sure they'll be fine without me."

"Suzaku, don't tell me you're-"

The Lancelot wheeled down a pair of walls with one leg on both walls and leaped out into a circle of enemies. "Tell them thank you for everything, and Euphie, I mean that for you too. Thanks for everything," he sighed in acceptance as the enemy raised their guns, "I was stubborn all the way to the end."

"Why don't you tell us yourself?!"

Suzaku gasped as suddenly, lasers of ice and fire rained down from the sky, freezing and burning the Knightmares, their pilots along with them.

o~o

From the Chinese transport, Sawazaki gasped, "What was that?"

"Something just appeared on the radar. And they're huge!"

"We've got picture!"

"Sir! You need to see this!"

Sawazaki gasped as the seven Voltron Lions descended onto the battlefield. The Black and Purple ones landed directly in front of Suzaku, growling aggressively like a real lion would protect its cub. The Green, Yellow, Orange, Blue, and Red ones circled them protectively as well, firing and destroying any Knightmares that got too close.

Suddenly the line went black, only to be replaced moments later by the laughing face of Voltron himself.

o~o

Euphemia gasped in surprise as the same laughing image flashed on her private line as well.

o~o

Rai's fingers danced rapidly across Zerith's keyboard as he quickly and effectively hacked into both the lines that the Lancelot was connected to and effectively cutting both Sawazaki and Euphemia (as well as any other Britannians listening in) out, while also establishing a private line of his own, connecting all the Lions to the Lancelot's communications.

"Wha-Yoru?" Suzaku gasped at the sight of the Purple Lion, "But how are you-?"

"Suzaku!" Nunnally's voice rang through the channel, making him gasp, "Are you okay?"

"Wha-Nunnally?" he gasped, a mixture of awe and horror in his tone. His brow furrowed, "Lelouch, what the hell-"

"For the record, I never agreed to this arrangement," Lelouch answered. One could clearly tell he was frowning as he said this. Lelouch hadn't exactly been pleased when he discovered that Nunnally had gone behind his back and did this, only for Nunnally to argue back that Suzaku needed as much help as possible, and Yoru didn't want to sit back and do nothing while her Paladin's life was in danger.

So, with the promise that they would discuss this when they returned to the Castle, Lelouch relented, knowing Nunnally would at least be physically fine inside the Lion.

"Wait so… Nunnally are you…?"

"No," Nunnally answered, "Yoru's letting me fly her because she wants to help you Suzaku, but… she couldn't do that on her own."

Suzaku was at a loss for words. The Purple Lion still wanted to help him, even after learning what he did? Why? He was sure that anyone on the Castle would have been a better fit than him.

"Suzaku, we all want to help you!" Shirley suddenly exclaimed as the other Lions surrounded the Lancelot, "You did a bad thing, but that doesn't make you a bad person. What about all the times you saved our lives? Like when you helped fight off Sendak when he took over the Castle?"

"Or what about the time you, me, and Milly saved all those Merpeople from that Baku monster?" Rivalz added.

"Or when we fought all those Ro-beasts Zarkon sent against us?" Milly continued.

Rai spoke next, "You've done something that you think you can't forgive yourself for, we get that. I especially know what that's like... But just because you did something bad, doesn't mean you can't redeem yourself."

Kallen huffed out a laugh before speaking next, "You're a stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit. But, at the same time, you're someone we can depend on. You didn't even hesitate to help me fight Zarkon back at Galra HQ. And... I never did get a chance to thank you for that."

"Suzaku, please," Nunally begged, "We might have different parents, but you're family to me! I don't want to lose you! I know I'm being selfish right now, but I don't care! Please come back to us! I love you!"

Suzaku was stunned. He was sure that once it had sunk in for the Paladins of his sin, they would leave him. They had the right to after all.

But no, that's not what happened. They didn't see a murderer. They saw a friend, a teammate, a brother, and a member of their family. One that they wanted to come home.

"Suzaku…" Lelouch intoned, shaking him out of his thoughts, "When I first arrived at your family's home, I didn't trust anyone. I completely shut myself out from everyone except Nunnally. But, you were able to help break through my shell, you became the first real friend I ever had outside my biological family. You're always putting everyone else first ahead of yourself, but every now and again, you're entitled to be a little selfish, you're human too. I don't want to lose the first friend I ever had. I don't want to beg, but I will if I have to. You, and everyone else, you've all been there for me. Now it's our turn to return the favor."

Tears had begun to build in his eyes as he listened to Lelouch's speech, but the final statement made them spill over. He gasped and tried to muffle sniffles with his hand. From inside, he heard an almost impatient whine and the sound of metal approaching the Knightmare. He half expected Yoru to start pawing at the Lancelot.

With a hiss, the cockpit of the Lancelot slid open, and just as he suspected, was met with Yoru's long snout.

Patting the top of the Lancelot's head in a clear goodbye, Suzaku jumped to the ground as Yoru lowered her head in front of him with an eager purr.

Making his way up into the familiar cockpit, he was immediately greeted by Nunnally, who instantly leaped up and hugged him tightly. A hug that he gladly returned.

"Thanks for keeping Yoru company," as he pulled back, Yoru's familiar soft growls echoed in his mind, "Yeah, it's good to see you too, girl."

Throwing her head back, Yoru roared loudly, followed by the other six Lions before shooting up into the sky.

"I recognized that strategy the second you appeared in the battle," Lelouch addressed, "They send a single fighter in to try to disrupt the main force so that even if you failed, Britannia's militia would have swooped right in. This has Schneizel written all over it!"

"You think he's here? Maybe on one of those boats?" Kallen asked.

"No," Lelouch shook her head, "Schneizel prefers to stay back and command from a distance, unlike Cornelia who participates actively in the battle."

Before further discussion could ensue, the group suddenly found themselves surrounded by several Chinese helicopters.

"Hey!" Rivalz exclaimed, activating Polaris's sonic ray, "Out the way!"

With a roar, Polaris fired the sonic ray, effectively disabling all of the helicopters, causing them to fall back to Earth.

"So, now what? Who do we attack? One or both sides?" Shirley asked.

Before Lelouch could reply, a screen appeared in front of him, receiving a signal. It seemed to be coming from the Chinese Federation.

"Well, well, Minister Sawazaki," Lelouch addressed as he quickly slid on his mask before answering.

"Zero! Why are you attacking us, we're both on the same side! Shouldn't we be fighting together as comrades?! Don't you care about Japan?!" the Minister exclaimed, but Lelouch could see the fear in his eyes as well.

"Voltron stands against anyone who uses violence unjustly for their own selfish end," Lelouch informed indifferently.

"Selfish?!" Sawazaki shouted in offense, "I'm doing this for Japan!"

"Sawasaki! If this is for Japan, why did you run away to the Chinese Federation?!" Suzaku asked, activating a voice-only connection, "You should have stayed, for everyone's sake!"

"You're still a child!" Sawazaki shouted.

Lelouch sighed dramatically, "It seems words have no effect on you. Very well. Paladins, we're attacking the enemy command center!"

"Wha-what-!" was the final thing Sawazaki said as Zero cut off the connection.

"Form Voltron!"

o~o

"Lady Enneagram," a radio crackled, "Voltron's here! The Lions just converged."

"What?! Why aren't we attacking then?" she exclaimed.

"That's the thing, they appear to be fighting the Chinese Federation!"

"What…? That doesn't make any sense?" she muttered, "Why are they fighting on our side now?"

o~o

"Suzaku… you and Lelouch are…" Euphemia murmured in relief when she heard about Voltron appearing at the base.

o~o

"So that was the plan," Tohdoh said, as he and the rest of the Black Knights watched the footage from the Castle, "It was clear that the Lions were more than enough to take the base…"

"Still, we at least could have helped with Earth-bound Knightmares. Give them some sort of back-up!" Tamaki protested.

"Yeah, even I'll admit it feels weird to be fighting on Britannia's side…" Ohgi trailed off before Allura interrupted.

"You're misunderstanding," the Altean corrected, "Victory is not necessary in this case. But Voltron's participation in this battle is an undeniable truth. It's showing your planet and people exactly where Voltron stands in this war, and that is protecting your nation."

"And even if this battle isn't officially reported," Coran added, "Rumors will spread. By the time this is over, I'm sure the entire country will know about it."

o~o

"What's wrong with going to another country, then waiting for the right moment to strike?!" Sawazaki demanded as he rode in a military vehicle to escape the base that Voltron was currently tearing to pieces. A helicopter was waiting for him and General Tsao., "That's an effective strategy, isn't it?"

"We can set up a new line of defense at Kagoshima," Tsao suggested.

"Right. I appreciate your help," Sawazaki nodded as they finally approached the helicopter pad.

Before either of them could enter the helicopter though, Aka's head suddenly slammed down on it, destroying it completely. Sawazaki stumbled backward in shock as Voltron levitated directly in front of him and Tsao.

"Sawazaki, that's far enough!" Rai ordered from the Green Lion.

"You won't get away that easy!" Kallen shouted.

"Im-impossible!" Sawazaki stuttered in fear before falling to his knees, "They took the largest fortress in all of Kyushu, with hardly any effort?"

The sound of Knightmares and vehicles approaching was heard from below as Voltron turned to leave.

"I think Britannia can handle things from here," Milly stated.

"Right… let's go home," Lelouch ordered before the Paladins rocketed back into the sky, reunited once again.

o~o

Taking one more moment to adjust his armor for the hundredth time, Suzaku took a deep breath before walking steadily onto the bridge, where Allura, Coran, Nunnally, and the other Paladins waited for him.

Allura smiled softly as Suzaku approached from the opened door.

"Suzaku Kururugi, Paladin of the Purple Lion, Yoru, reporting for duty," he said with a bow.

"Welcome back, Suzaku," Allura smiled and handed his Bayard back to him, "I believe this belongs to you."

Suzaku took it, but the feeling of unease still remained. Yesterday, the team had made it clear that they wanted him here. But was he truly worthy as a Paladin?

"I'm grateful, Princess Allura," he said honestly, "but… despite all this, I still feel undeserving of this."

To his surprise, Allura approached and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up in surprise, "I'm not so sure. I don't know if you're already aware of this, Suzaku. But the Purple Lion's previous Paladin was my mother, Queen Melenor of Altea," Suzaku's eyes widened at this information, along with the rest of the team besides Lelouch, "In a way, she was much like yourself, every bit as stubborn as you are, while also putting the lives of others above her own. But, what made her truly stand out was how she always told me, that when you make a mistake, you can always find a way to redeem yourself no matter how grave your mistake was. You took the life of your own father, and I can't imagine what that must be like for you, but despite all your flaws and shortcomings, the Purple Lion chose you to be her Paladin for a reason; because it recognized the best in you, just as we all do."

Suzaku didn't know what to say, still trying to process this new revelation, so Allura continued.

"When I was a child, my father told me something. I didn't quite understand it back then, but now I do. The real test of honor is not how you die. It's how you live."

Suzaku gasped at this, before smiling, gratitude, and determination on his face, "I won't let you down."

Allura nodded, "I know you won't."

"Yay!" Nunnally cheered, before rushing to hug him again. Suzaku laughed as he gently hugged her back once more.

"All right! Welcome back!" Milly cheered.

"This ship has been way too boring without you Suzaku," Rai smiled.

"Eh… Yeah, I guess it was," Kallen shrugged, but a smirk was still present on her face.

"We've all missed you Number Two," Coran said, patting Suzaku on the back.

"Anyway, now that that's out of our system," Rivalz said, suddenly looking at Suzaku almost accusingly, "bro, why didn't you tell us you had a thing for Princess Euphemia?"

"Wh-" Suzaku sputtered and his face turned tomato red, "Wha-What are you talking about?!"

"You can't fool us, Suzaku," Rai grinned, "Plus, I may or may not have hacked into the Lancelot's communication system halfway through your little love confession. A pretty decent one too if you ask me."

Milly chortled, "So was that your plan to change the system? Marry into the royal family?"

Kallen continued smirking, shrugging again, "Well that does sound like a good idea on paper, but you know all those royal assholes would have a field day with that."

Rai chuckled, "Still, I'd love to see the looks on all their faces if Suzaku and Euphemia did marry."

"Guys!" Suzaku whined, covering his face to hide his blush. He felt absolutely mortified.

"Leave him alone, everyone!" Shirley scolded them, "He literally just got back and we're teasing him already?"

"Yeah!" Nunnally joined in before turning to Suzaku again, "You don't have to listen to them Suzaku, I think you and Euphie would be a great couple!"

"I have been curious to research a couple of Earth's marriage customs for a while," Coran added in, stroking his chin in thought, "If you're planning to propose soon, please inform me."

Though Coran hadn't meant to, this did elicit another round of chuckles from the group. Even Lelouch.

Suzaku sighed, but a smile was spread across his face as he looked up at them.

"It's good to be back."

#Fanfiction #Code Geass #Voltron #lelouch lamperouge #milly ashford #suzaku kururugi #kallen kozuki #shirley fenette #rai #rivalz cardemonde #coran #allura #euphemia li britannia #schneizel el britannia #crossover

[snaamagica]

i... i’m...

i’m speechless

so: this is tart’s banner. this was my push to pity, the last hurrah of the event. i had already accepted that i was gonna get spooked by somebody other than her, because Tart Banner Cursed, so i thought i was PREPARED

i was NOT prepared for ren to technically pity break at 94

that means i was pity broken THREE TIMES pulling for tart. while i am sad tart is not getting a second slot, this is OBJECTIVELY HILARIOUS

this is ren’s second slot! (she stole tart’s slot...) the first time i pulled her, i was pulling for karin, and i got BOTH of them in that 10pull, so honestly, i was half-expecting tart to show up at the end anyway. it would 100% fit the pattern of ren

it is definitely a sad day, but this still means i can have more use out of a girl i already had, so... really... my wish was granted?? i wasn’t specific enough with my wish i guess?? what kind of kyubey logic is this, game??

#( mala. ) #( magia record. ) #i am laughing more than i am disappointed #this banner has been ridiculous

[peterjakes]

Sam x Grizz Fanfic -  ‘Things do not change; we change’

pls don’t judge too harshly this was written in like 2 hours thanks x

also posted of ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195665

Sam had found Grizz down by the gardens, of course he was by the gardens. Sam could hardly blame him; the group had barely been back 5 minutes when they had interrupted the complete disaster of the coup. Grizz appreciated peace and quiet. He liked to be alone. This was one of the things Sam learned about him during Thanksgiving. Sam longed to go back to that night, he felt so comfortable, so real, so normal lying next to Grizz. Amongst all of the recent chaos, it was the only thing that kept him sane, thinking about the closeness between them and how they just seemed to slot together like the perfect key. Since Eden’s birth and the whole mess with Lexie and Harry, well, Sam had realised how lucky they all were before. It was the calm before the chaos, but none of them had really noticed until after.

It was obvious that Grizz could hear Sam’s footsteps down the path but made a conscious effort not to look up until the very moment Sam was standing right beside him. This wasn’t out of spite, more Grizz trying to forsake his own feelings. They hadn’t departed on bad terms, but a sort of limbo, in-between state. Not seeing or speaking to Sam for over a week had been hard. Walden had kept him occupied enough, as well as the thought of actually going back home with good news. But seeing him again, having to look at those beautiful, baby blues and face up to what had happened would be complete agony.

“Hey.” Sam was standing only 10 or so inches away from Grizz, he was almost tempted to kneel down beside him, to force him to talk to him but disregarded that thought when Grizz built up the courage to stare back up at him.

“Hey.” Grizz briefly glanced up, quickly signing, before focusing back on the plants he’d left behind, checking on them to repair any damage, not that he needed to. He didn’t want to avoid Sam, that was the last thing he wanted to do. But having to look at him, seeing Sam pitying him, he didn’t want that. Pushing these thoughts aside, he brushed his hands against each other, ridding of any dirt or soil, before pushing his body up to stand and did the thing he’d thought about ever since he and Sam last touched.

Both boys moved towards each other, and Sam himself was a little hesitant, but Grizz clasped onto Sam, as if his life depended on it, nuzzling his face into Sam’s shoulder. The smell of Sam, Sam’s own smell alone made Grizz feel more at home than he had been in a long time. Once again, Sam was required to be on his tiptoes, feeling the weight of Grizz’s warm body against his. This moment only lasted a few seconds, and once they departed Sam felt cold and alone once again. The hurt was still clear on Grizz’s face, and that antagonised Sam.

“How was it? The trip?” Sam spoke louder this time, aware that this was the only way he could communicate with Grizz; he wanted to keep his attention. But this was quite difficult considering Grizz wouldn’t look at him longer than five seconds before glancing away. He wished he’d look at him properly, but those longing, sad eyes would just make Sam feel worse. Since moving to New Ham, Sam had already seen Grizz cry quite a few times. Two of those were Sam’s own doing, which had haunted Sam since those moments. He didn’t want to ever be the culprit or reason again.

“Yeah, it was, uh, it was good. We found what we needed. So… All good.” Grizz replied, giving Sam a small but sad smile. He didn’t have much else to say. That’s what he told anyone else who asked in the past day since he and the others had come back. He hadn’t had much time to think about the farming plans. The complete and utter shit-show starring Lexie and Harry with appearances from Jason, Clark, and Luke had over clouded that. Grizz had spent the group’s first night back trying to understand how everything had gotten so messed up. Gordie had filled them in, only briefly, and that was enough to rile him up. Not that Grizz would act on it – violence was never his forte. He knew something had to be done; he had to help Allie and Will. But maybe focusing on his own mess, the ‘Sam’ mess, would be the best place to start.

“What did it look like?”

“It was beautiful.” Grizz looked up to Sam this time, signing the word ‘beautiful’ slowly and carefully, making it clear to Sam how special it was what they had found. And it was. He almost couldn’t believe what they discovered. That they were so lucky. Out of the group who went on the expedition, Grizz was the least optimistic. He desperately wanted to find something, wanted to come back with even a little glimmer of hope. They’d succeeded in that, but it almost seemed too late – as if everything had already gone wrong before they could even start mending it.

“There was a river?” Sam wanted to picture every single detail, he wanted Grizz to unload to him, all of his worries about the future, about how to farm, about what type of fish they could have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, about anything that would bring Grizz back him.

“Yeah, with fish and everything. It was great, Sam.” For reasons unknown to himself, when Grizz spoke his name so kindly and softly, even after everything, it made Sam’s heart bounce and swell and flutter and smile the softest smile. Even with this awkwardness between them, Sam could see how proud Grizz was of their discovery. Or at least he was before they’d come back, the realisation that everything that their community had worked for in the past 6 months had been shattered to pieces in just a week may have ruined that sensation. But Sam wanted Grizz to be happy with himself, he deserved it. It was clear to Sam how hard the group tried, and how much they all wanted to give good news to everyone.

Sam nodded along, “Wow. That’s great.” Holding onto every single word that escaped Grizz’s mouth, yearning for a little more.

Grizz took a sharp intake of breath, “How’s Becca?” He knew the conversation would eventually lead to the issue, so he thought he may as well get it over with. Not that he wasn’t concerned about Becca, or the baby, but having to relive that moment when he realised… Grizz pushed that thought of his mind, genuinely wanting to hear Sam’s reply.

“She’s fine. They’re both fine.” But nothing else was fine. Everything seemed to be falling apart around Sam and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“That’s good,” Grizz sniffed, his nose scrunching slightly, a movement that made Sam smile a real smile. “Eden, right? Gordie told me. It’s a lovely name.” Which was true. Eden, delight. In all honesty, he was just glad they didn’t call the child Gareth. That would have been a nightmare.

The mention of Eden made Sam’s heart sink; not because he didn’t want to talk about her. She was honestly the most precious thing Sam had ever seen, holding her brought more joy than he could ever have imagined and seeing Becca light up and glowing made him so happy. But he knew how hard it was for Grizz to even think about the baby. He didn’t want to hurt him any further, he wanted to take all of that pain away, unload it onto himself if needed.

“I missed you.” Sam ached for Grizz from the moment he left him alone near the trees until the morning he heard the group had come back. Every single night during that lonesome week, Sam had relived those small moments between the two boys. Wondering, pondering. Maybe if he’d done things differently, been less of a coward, more assertive, faced up to what needed to be said. He’d wanted to be there, next to Grizz, just as they had been. Laughing, smiling, laying against each other, skin touching. The calmness of being in each other’s arms.

Sam still didn’t know it was possible to feel like that about someone he’d only really got to know recently. But that didn’t seem to matter; that Thanksgiving night, they spoke for hours and hours, finding out every single little detail about each other, even the ones that really didn’t matter. It was cheesy, but Sam did feel as if he’d known Grizz for so much longer. Sam remembered something he read, that the number of years didn’t define a relationship, it was about how much someone meant to you, or believed in you, or was there for you. It isn’t about months; it’s about the moments. Maybe their subconsciousness’ were trying to make up for lost time. It was clear that both had wished they’d acted a little sooner. And the events after that night proved that to Sam.

“We weren’t gone long, Sam.” Grizz himself knew this was just an outright lie. In the grand scheme of things, a week wasn’t ridiculously long. But for Grizz, it was too much. Long enough to overplay every moment he and Sam had together. Contemplate what he said, but more what was left unsaid. How did they really stand with each other? Had everything gone too fast? What did Grizz really want from Sam? But really, the whole time Grizz was away, he just wanted to be with Sam, even with everything that had happened.

Sam shook his head at that remark, Grizz was being flippant and he couldn’t blame him. But he knew very well that this specific week, was complete and utter torture, for both of them. “I know. I’m glad you’re back. We need you. I-“

“Look, Sam-“

“Everything’s fucked. When you left, it all went south.” Sam was angry, not with Grizz specifically, but with everything that had happened. He couldn’t understand how people could be so fickle, so easily led, so downright stupid.

“Yeah,” Grizz chuckled ironically, brushing his hair back into his signature bun. “Fuck happened?”

“You’re the glue.” Sam said, putting special emphasis on signing ‘glue’. It was true, Grizz was special – Sam knew that. But when he there, he seemed to have this presence. People listened to him; people liked him. He just had this way with people that Sam truly admired. But there was so much of Grizz that Sam admired. So much that he treasured.

Grizz started to shake his head, “That’s not true.” He knew Sam didn’t mean it in that way, but he didn’t want that responsibility. He just wanted to do his job. He wanted to help the best way he knew how to. Though, Sam did have a point. They’d only been gone over a week and it seemed that as soon as they left, it all went into anarchy. He’d expected it from people like Lexi and Harry, two whom were never that happy about the way things were working. And two that had been so easily manipulated by Campbell. Grizz wondered how Sam felt about that. The two hadn’t spoken much about his brother, but the night when Sam admitted to everyone about Campbell, about who he really was, Grizz understood so clearly how much Sam had struggled with him. And for what Jason and Clark were saying the night before Grizz left, well, he never imagined those idiots would actually act on it. The phrase ‘brawns before brains’ was particularly apt when thinking about those two. But it was Luke. Luke, his best friend. Luke, who always seemed level-headed, strong-willed, and generally a good guy. It was Luke who disappointed Grizz the most.

“Grizz…” Sam, whilst signing his name by crossing his arms over his chest clawing it twice, which made Grizz chuckle, stepped forward slightly, mirroring the two boys positions the day Grizz left for the expedition. This brought Grizz back to reality. He didn’t want to invade Grizz’s space, no, that was the last thing he wanted, but he wanted this moment to be very clear and to have Grizz’s complete attention.

“She’s not mine. Eden. I lied. I’m sorry.” There was a beat. Silence. Sam could see the confusion in the taller boys’ eyes, as if he was going over what Sam had just said in his mind, trying to understand, comprehend those words. The words that would seemingly change it all. Or at least that’s what Sam hoped.

“What? What are you saying, Sam?” quizzed Grizz, looking rather puzzled.

“I’m not her father. I didn’t sleep with Becca.” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head as he said this. He didn’t know what he had expected Grizz to say, how he wanted him to react. He wasn’t going to be jumping for joy. But Sam didn’t want a repeat of their conversation in Grizz’s bedroom. Sam was heartbroken when he left Grizz alone that day. He hated what he’d done and hated how he couldn’t fix it.

“You lied?”

“I had good reason to. For Becca. She’s my best friend – I love her. I should have told you … But it wouldn’t have been fair on her, to betray her trust…” Sam knew from the moment Grizz realised about the baby and Sam himself confirmed it, that he’d messed up. He wished he could have told him then and there that no, the baby wasn’t his, but he was going to be a father figure to Becca’s child and be there for his best friend. He wanted to tell him then and there that he already cared about Grizz so much and desperately liked him. But Sam was a coward. A loyal one, but still a coward.

The day Grizz and the group came back, the same day Becca moved back home with Eden, Sam told her the truth about Grizz. Why they’d spent so much time together, why they’d suddenly got so close, why Grizz looked so heartbroken when he came to the hospital, why Sam was so upset when the expedition group left, where he’d really been during Thanksgiving. Becca, as usually, had questioned every single thing but finally understood. Her almost giving her blessing, telling Sam that she loved him and would never stand in his way of true happiness was music to his ears. But her admittance that if anyone had to know the truth, she would have wanted it to be Grizz? Well, that sealed it for Sam. He had to tell him. He had to at least try to fix his mess. Otherwise, he may have lost his one chance at happiness with someone he just couldn’t let go.

“But you’re telling me now?”

“You’re too important to let go.” Echoing his previous thoughts, Sam once again moved closer to Grizz and flicked a strand away from his face, wanting to have a complete view of those puppy dog eyes, filled with the utmost sadness that Sam just wanted to rid away, even with the boy opposite him trying to avoid his gaze. This didn’t last long, Grizz couldn’t help himself, the way Sam looked at him… Grizz wouldn’t care if he never had to look at anything else.

Grizz had to take a moment, he glanced away from Sam, focusing onto the nearby trees. Once he came back to reality, the sombre look on his face was all too clear to Sam but he didn’t look angry, almost relieved. Turning back to look at the freckled boy beside him, Grizz nodded as if he finally understood.

“You could have told me. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.” Sam couldn’t help but titter at this as it became clear to him that Grizz couldn’t be angry with him anymore.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Thank you.” Grizz only signed this, planting a kiss on his fingers before motioning towards Sam. And he was genuinely thankful for Sam. Thankful for his kindness, his understanding, his lovely face. But he was most thankful for him freeing them of the mess the two had found themselves in.

Their eyes met, but properly, this time, locking onto each other. This time it was Grizz who stepped forward, he slowly leaned down to Sam’s level, allowing their foreheads to brush against each other. Cupping Sam’s chin with his hand, Grizz slowly pushed his lips onto Sam’s, allowing them to brush against each other, softly and delicately, just long enough to inhale his breath, long enough to feel the warmth of him and the taste he’d been wanting to taste. Grizz was so tender and gentle with Sam, as if he was scared of hurting him in some way. The two boys’ bodies only moved ever so slightly against each other, and Sam moved his hands to gently caress Grizz’s sensitive cheeks. Neither wanted the moment to end, but Grizz gradually pulled away from his lips, quickly stroking Sam’s chin, giving him a weak smile. Grizz placed a strand of his hair behind his ears and opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself and instead mouthed “I missed you too”, whilst poking his chin with his index finger.

“You’re getting much better, I’m impressed.” Sam motioned towards Grizz’s hands, before taking them into his own, softly rubbing small circles in his palms.

“Learned from the best,” Grizz raised his eyebrow, to which Sam shrugged and could feel the warmth coming from Grizz. “But you’ve still got more to teach me.”

“Okay, Gareth.” Sam smirked to himself, the weight of the stress and agony Sam felt about Grizz had been lifted off his shoulders, just as the tension between the two had finally been lifted. He felt complete ease being in his company, bumping into Grizz shoulder playfully with a huge smile on his face.

Grizz teasingly pushed Sam, but quickly pulled him in for a side hug, planting a small but meaningful kiss on his forehead. Sam reciprocated; his soft lips with the slightest hint of coolness, leaving a small wet mark on Grizz’s flushed red cheeks, covering the dampness of his tears. And at that moment, Grizz was reminded of what Sam had asked in, only a week or so ago. That ‘almost everything’, was fading away. Right then and there, Grizz had exactly everything he needed.

#the society #grizzam #sam x grizz #grizz x sam #the society fic #the society fanfic #the society fanfiction #grizzam fanfic #grizzam fic #grizzam fanfiction #reunion #things do not change; we change #*mine #*my writing

[pietromaxi]

you’re a bad guy 2

warnings: violence (not really), cursing, ANGST (holy FUCK i cried writing this)

ahh here she is! you’re a bad guy is my baby to say the least. writing the first part, i wasn’t sure if it would get to people, i wasn’t sure if they were going to enjoy it. but literally not even a day after i posted it i had 15+ inboxes asking me if i was writing a second! i just want to thank you guys! also probably gonna do a third part because i couldn’t fit everything i wanted into this. it’s long and it’s sad. and there’s so much more i want to do with this story so i would say probably expect another part sometime if you guys want one!

**i wasn’t completely sure about the exact timeline between the two movies (ca:cw and endgame) but ca:cw and iw were roughly two years apart according to the russos and adding the five years between iw and endgame, so roughly, its been 7 years!**

----

white surrounded you on all planes.

the floor was white. the sky was white. is this what heaven looked like?

you’d just woke up. you were laying on the soft floor until your eyes jolted open, “dad?”

you stood up on week knees, blood seeped from deep cuts on your arms and thighs, “hello? is anyone here?”

surely this wasn’t heaven, no one was around. you were completely alone.

but you were dead. you remembered dying. the funny feeling in your stomach as you crumbled to nothing right in front of him. but you didn’t reach for him, “hey, nat? what- what’s going on?”

you remember watching bucky fizzle out into nothing more than ash and flakes of black. you knew it was coming, and you were ready.

you remember both him and nat turing around at the sound of your voice. you and him had been on bad terms the entire fight, you’d shot him in the arm, he thinks you did it on purpose.

you laughed thinking about it, the sound echoing across the flat planes of white. you’d definitely shot him on purpose.

he tried running to you, but you looked him dead in the face, uttering the words, “don’t touch me.”

“hey!” the word echoed in your ears and you whipped around quickly, it gave you whiplash.

peter parker was standing a few feet behind you, “y/n? what’s going on?” his voice sounded pained, he’d been crying.

little trails made by his tears cut straight through dirt caked onto his face. your heart broke at the sight of the small boy standing before you. his spidey suit now torn up with stains of dark crimson covering it.

“we’re dead, kiddo.”

his face fell, “how are all of us dead?”

you raised an eyebrow and cocked your head to the side, “all of us? you’re the only other person i’ve seen, bud.”

he said nothing as he grabbed your hand and dragged you across the planes of white. the ground seemed to slope under your feet, as if you were walking around the side of the earth. but your feet stayed flat on the ground.

sounds of shouting and crying drew your eyes up from the shimmering, white floor. standing before you were millions of people you’d never seen before. a sea of sobbing women, children, and men laid out before you.

and right at the front was none other than james buchanan barnes.

peter let go of your hand and nodded his head at you, walking towards a shaken wanda.

bucky smiled sadly when he saw you, “you too, huh?”

you stayed silent as you stared in shock. thoughts swarmed your mind, a tornado of good and evil spun wildly, round and round. until it dwindled down to one single word.

“hi.”

he laughed lightly and jutted his head lightly to the left, silently asking if you’d follow him.

bucky led you a little away from the group to where the two of you could talk without shouting, but you could still keep peter in your eyesight.

you stared blankly at the floor, deciding to sit down. you sat indian-style and bucky followed. tucking his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“i led you over here to apologize. for what happened a few years back.”

you laughed dryly and looked into his cloudy eyes, “i forgave you a long time ago, buck.”

bucky’s eyes lit up, all the clouds seemed to immediately move from his eyes. they shined like they did in the 40s when he went on a date with that pretty blonde girl. when he first went in for the kiss and she kissed him back. he was over the moon.

the girl he loved more than anything forgave him. but he wouldn’t tell her that part.

“what about him? he misses you, y’know.”

he watched y/n take a sharp intake of air, she picked at a piece of string on her shiny black suit before she spoke, “the difference, bucky. the difference is that you didn’t know what you were doing. he did.”

bucky stayed quiet.

“he knew he was breaking me the entire time and he didn’t care.”

“y/n, you know he cared.”

you dropped it and stared at bucky.

his beard had grown quite thick, his hair was long and some pieces stuck up in weird angles. his eyes sparkled, but she knew something was still missing.

he was dirty. blood and dirt clung to him in all places. he had scrapes and bruises all over, and, yet, he still looked ethereal.

you’d been staring at him for a while and he just stared back, neither of you realized what you’d been doing until he was leaning in.

he was leaning in, and in, and in.

you leaned in too.

his hand rested on yours that was sitting on the soft ground next to your leg, his fingers tickled the skin on the top of your hand, and for the first time in what felt like years, you laughed.

a genuine laugh, not a hard chuckle, or a laugh-so-hard-you-can’t-breathe-laugh, but a soft giggle.

and it was enough for bucky to place his medal hand behind your neck and pull you into him.

your lips slotted together and you tangled one hand into his slightly greasy hair, the other held his flesh hand tight in yours.

you couldn’t tell if this was a rebound kiss, or a pity kiss. but you liked it. and you didn’t want it to stop.

bucky’s hand traveled down your neck to your waist and he pulled your body to face his, no longer sitting side by side. you untangled your hand from his and placed both hands behind his neck, interlocking all your fingers to keep him where you want him.

you stood on your knees and leaned your face down, mashing hard against his. bucky growled in the back of his throat and squeezed your hips, pressing his lips equally hard into yours.

his hands started trailing downwards when you heard shouting, screaming.

you broke apart and stood up quickly, bucky looked starstruck and you looked bewildered. the two of you stared at eachother until peter caught your attention, “guys! we have to go!”

you saw holes burn their way into your mini paradise and for a moment you wished you didn’t have to go. you wanted to stay.

as the holes turned fiery and burned bright orange, your suit began to repair itself. your cuts faded and your heart began racing with adrenaline.

bucky watched in awe as the skin surrounding the deep cut on his arm crawled back together. the skin was left an angry red, but it was healed. his suit sewed back up and he felt good.

more and more holes opened right before your eyes. the larger the burning holes became, the louder the outside was.

your ears were immediately filled with the sound of screaming and fighting. metal clanging onto metal, bombs went off, avengers were flying left and right, and you were shocked.

large groups of avengers piled out of the enlarging holes, screaming in anguish to avenge the already fallen.

you’d lost bucky by then, but peter stayed close to you. fire seeped from your palms and your surroundings became windy, you blew off a few of thanos minions before you were in a gigantic group of your closest family and friends.

he was front and center.

blood dripped from his nose and lip, his face was caked in dirt and blood. yet somehow, he still managed to look good.

and you’d just kissed his best friend.

you worked your way to the front, standing beside bucky, who was next to him.

you heard doctor strange and wong to your left, “is that everyone?”

“what? you wanted more?”

and then you heard him, steve. he held his hand out and mjolnir came flying straight into the palm of his hand. you remembered the time back at the tower when he’d laughed about not being worthy. but you always had a hunch.

“avengers... assemble.”

all hell broke loose. avengers were flying left and right trying their hardest to take down thanos and his hordes.

clint was running on your left as you heard him talking on the comms, “cap, what’d’you want me to do with this damn thing?”

steve spoke up, stopping slightly beside you, nodding his head at you, “get those stones as far away as possible!”

it was your turn to speak up, “no! we need them to get them back where they came from!”

“no way to get them back, my beloved daughter that i missed oh-so-much, thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” your dad spoke up on the comms and you smiled ear to ear, “i missed you too daddio.”

you drowned out the rest of the conversation and focused on the hordes of space-aliens coming towards you, you burnt them, blew them away, crushed them with tree roots, and washed them away with water. but every time one was dead, another came straight at you.

you were getting tired before the man himself showed up. no, not thanos. worse.

steve showed up behind you and helped fight off the baddies getting too close to you, “it’s good to see you.” he shouted in between dodge and attack with his current opponent.

you nodded your head at him and continued to blow back the impending enemies.

you fought back to back with steve, then helped wanda hold back thanos. then got the gauntlet from peter, then gave the gauntlet to captain marvel.

and then you heard thanos speak behind you, “i am... inevitable.”

avengers fell to their knees in agony, you turned around and ran to them all as fast as you could, bucky not far behind you.

you saw your dad, standing in front of thanos. he was raising his hand up to his face. he looked straight at you as he spoke, “and ... i am ... iron man.”

he snapped. his hand held all of the stones.

“daddy, no!”

you’d been blown back by the snap, your eyes were closed and you were so scared to open them.

you felt bucky bump you with his foot and your eyes shot open, “daddy, oh no, daddy no. please no.”

you crawled to where your dad lay, almost lifeless, on the harsh rock.

“oh no, here-here lay on this.” you slipped the top part of your suit off, now just in your sports bra. you bunched up the material and softly lifted your dads head up and placed the top behind his head. placing his head gingerly down onto the shirt, you wept into his chest.

“it should’ve been me, daddy. please don’t die on me, please. i need you more than anything, you’re my best friend and i can’t do this without you. please, daddy. i can’t lose you. not like this.”

he inched his hand downwards and rested it over yours. you cried harder, pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead.

pepper kneeled next to you and placed a hand on your back, the other one resting on tony’s shoulder.

softly, you pressed your forehead into his and cried, “i love you so much, daddy. you’re my best friend and i will always look up to you. you’re my everything.”

you leaned down and curled up next to your dad, softly laying your head on his chest and keeping his hand in yours, he breathed out slowly, “i... love... you...3-“

“i love you more. i love you 5000. you can rest now, daddy. it’s okay, i’m right here.” you sobbed as you watched his arc reactor power down, pepper rubbing your back and hiccuping lightly.

you screamed as loud as you could when he’d finally let go, his hand slipping off the top of yours, “fuck! god! fuck, why! why not me? why did you take him? i cant live without him!”

both steve and bucky moved forward towards you, arms reaching for you. steve looked at bucky like he had two heads, “what’re you doing?”

bucky said nothing. he just looked at steve and then hung his head real low.

and in that moment, steve knew what bucky had done.

and when bucky looked back up he knew that steve wasn’t just crying about his lost friend, but now the love he’d lost to his best friend, to him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #tony stark #tony stark x daughter!reader #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel #marvels the avengers #thanos #endgame #stucky x reader

[dork-empress]

TAZ Angst drabble 2

Read on Ao3 

Character death warning

Despite Taako’s objections to the contrary, elves were mortal. They aged, so slowly it was barely perceptible by humans.

Taako had an uncle...or great uncle...maybe he was just an old cranky cousin? Anyway, some family member that took in him and Lup for the Elven equivalent of two seconds before sending them off again. He told Taako and Lup never to make friends with other races, because they aged too quickly, and Taako would inevitably end up alone. Taako just thought he was racist, which he was, but it took a good 800 years before Taako was willing to admit MAYBE he had a point.

He kept his glamour charm up nearly all the time, but every once in a while, he put it down to look in the mirror and see what time had done. Not to mention sometimes he just needed the spell slots. His golden blonde hair had turned stark white. His skin, once perfectly bronzed was now wrinkled.

And there were some things no magic in the world could totally fix. His eyesight, for one, losing a good deal of his darkvision and normal vision. His hearing at least allowed him a good excuse to yell at the whippersnappers going about. If there was one thing he enjoyed about being old it was complaining about young people, not that he needed youth as an excuse to do that.

But the worst thing was the memory. It started small, taking a minute or longer to remember an old friend’s name. Making up what happened when he couldn’t remember a story of his own life. A spell or two he didn’t know. His aunt’s recipes.

It was getting worse, though. One fateful day, he couldn’t remember Magnus’ name, and he rushed to the graveyard to see it and apologize to his old friend. It was decorated well, as a hero of legend’s grave should be. Kids went on field trips to come see it.

They were all gone now. Magnus, Lucretia, Davenport, Merle, Ren, Carey, Killian, Avi, Leon, Lucas...even Agnus had grown up before Taako’s very eyes and then died of old age. Many of his friends had had children, who then grew up and died, and then their children….humans were stupid. They were like damn Goldfish with the way they kept dying, what the fuck?

The people closest to him weren’t like that. Kravitz, Lup, and Barry stayed on. They all lived in the same house for a long time. It wasn’t fair, they got to live forever, but they stayed the SAME. Stupid reapers.

After going out to see Magnus, Taako realized one more thing he forgot: the way home. He stumbled around town a bit, trying to retrace his steps, but only found himself more lost, until finally a robed figure appeared out of the mist in front of him. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on me, Bluejeans?”

“Sorry,” Barry said, putting up his hands in surrender. “We got back and you weren’t home. Lup and Krav are worried, so we split up to find you.”

Taako ‘hmph’d’ impressively. One good thing about being old was being able to ‘hmph’ properly. “And what, you were just the lucky bastard to check this…” He looked around. He didn’t know where he was.

“Actually,” Barry covered for his old friend’s lack of memory, “I asked around and the kids said there was a crazy old elf wizard shouting ‘abracafuck you’ and blasting a statue.”’

Taako chuckled, “heh. Classic.”

Barry created a rift in the air and offered for Taako to step in. “I better call Lup and Krav. Get ready for a lecture about wandering around.”

“I’m not a caged animal,” he said, “This guy’s so fine, it’d be a shame to hide from the world.”

Barry smirked, but knew better than to argue. “Where’d you go, anyway?”

Taako collapsed on the sofa and regretted it instantly. He now felt all the misery holding himself upright and walking around had caused him. “Graveyard,” He said, like it was nothing.

Barry put the stone of farspeech down. “Oh,” he said.

He went over to sit on the sofa, but Taako shooed him away. “I miss them too, you know,” Barry said, “Every day.”

“Why?” Taako asked, “You get to go to the land of the dead all the time.”

Barry sighed, “Being in the astral plane and being part of the sea of souls is...different,” he said. “Only the Raven Queen knows anything about what it’s like, and she says she can’t tell us or it’ll melt our brains or something.”

Taako snorted, “Cop out.”

“Probably,” Barry agreed, “But...still. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“Barry...look at me,” Taako said, and he dropped his Glamour. He was well kept for an elf. Had lived longer than most, well taken care of and having a husband who was death didn’t hurt. But still he knew he was a pile of bones wrapped together with some skin wrinklier than an unironed sheet. “This...this doesn’t get any easier.”

Barry tried not to look pitying. He really did. “Hey, I’d hardly think you were more than 700.”

Taako snorted, shaking. He was always shaking. “I’m gonna die, Barry,” He said, “Soon. One of you three are gonna have to drop me in the death soup--”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“--And we both know it’s not going to be the other two.” Taako said, staring Barry down until he understood. Barry sobered instantly, realizing what Taako was saying. “Kravitz and I have had a long time,” Taako said, “Longer than most. But all mortals have to die eventually. And Lup….” Taako twiddled with his thumbs, trying to get them to just stay STILL for Istus’ sake. “We promised we’d never leave each other again. But we can’t...I can’t…”

He took a deep sigh, Barry staying still, “Elves live a long time, but eternity is eternity. You lot are gonna live twice as long as me, and I don’t want them to suffer without my brilliant presence,” he swallowed, “So that’s gonna be on you, Barry, to help them through it. So you’d best start adjusting now.”

Barry didn’t say anything for a long silence. He finally broke it with the quietest, “I, um,” he said, “I’m gonna call them. Let them know you’re ok.”

The next morning, Taako woke to Kravitz gently shaking him awake. He didn’t meditate as much anymore, too much focus. “Wake up, love,” Kravitz said in his low, melodic voice. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re going on a trip.”

Taako grumbled at the intrusion, “Five more minutes,” he insisted, but was surprised to hear laughter at that. It was Lup’s laugh. He peeked his eye open to see she was in the room with him, along with Barry. “What’d’you want?”

“Kravitz already said,” she said, “We’re going on a trip.”

“Where?” He asked, still stubbornly clinging to sleep.

“It’s a surprise!” She said.

Taako grumped. He probably wasn’t going to remember the place if she said it anyway. “Fine. It better not be that museum that keeps pestering me. They can’t have my hat, I don’t care if it’s part of their exhibit.”

“It’s not the museum,” Kravitz assured, offering his hand. Taako took it and allowed himself to be pulled up off the bed and onto the floor. He felt less achy today, that was good. “Come on, now, best we hurry.”

“I’ll take my damn time, and you’ll deal with it,” Taako grumped as Kravitzed held him around the middle to help him walk forward, kissing his cheek. Even at...however old he was, he still blushed. “Sap.”

He was so distracted, he didn’t even realize he’d left his body behind.

Taako didn’t remember much, other than shuffling his feet, left, right, left again, going wherever Kravitz led him. “I’m gonna be hungry in a few minutes,” he let them all know, so this place better have food.”

“It’ll have everything you need,” Barry commented, him and Lup keeping pace behind them.

Taako grumbled, “That sounds suspicious as heck, Barold.”

“We’re here,” Kravitz said, and Taako looked up. They were at the beach. But it didn’t seem like a normal beach. There was an old cottage, long abandoned, sitting on an island (when did they get to an island?). There was the sound of waves, but no people or animals, not even a bird. He looked up at the dark sky and finally realized where he was. The Astral Plane. “Oh…” he said, and then looked between the Reapers, “It’s today?”

“It is.” The voice behind the four of them said, and Taako’s eyes fell on the Raven Queen. She didn’t seem to take steps as she approached, just floating along the ground, a veil covering her face. “I hope I’m not late, I wanted to be here for the departure.”

“Nice to see your son in law off,” He said, but then the four of them were still silent. It was hard to tell, under that damn veil, but the Raven Queen wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at Kravitz. “Krav--”

Kravitz let go of Taako, and he was surprised to find he could stand on his own. Kravitz approached the Raven Queen with reverence, and bowed before her. She lifted him by the chin, looking down at him, and speaking quiet words Taako couldn’t hear. Then, Kravitz summoned his scythe and handed it over. “What are you doing?” Taako demanded, “Stop--

He tried to run forward but Lup held him back. He turned around to see she had summoned her scythe too, as had Barry. Barry stepped forward next to hand his in. “We talked it over,” Lup said, “Weighing everything, but...it was already decided a long time ago.”

“Love,” Kravitz said, coming back to him and taking his hand, “I’ve lived longer than you have.”

“Cradle robber,” Taako accused lovingly, getting Kravitz to smile.

“I’ve seen all the things I wanted to see and done all the things I wanted to do.” Kravitz tucked Taako’s hair behind his long ears, “All I really want anymore is to be with you. In all things.”

“But it’s supposed to just be me,” Taako said, and realized he was crying. How he was able to he had no idea, but he was anyway, “You’re supposed to go on, you’re immortal, you--”

“We,” Lup said, “Are a package deal, goofus.” She handed her scythe over with a respectful nod, “Besides, Queenie says this happens every millenia or so. We helped her pick out some replacements that weren’t total douche waffles. World goes on and all that.”

The Raven Queen didn’t seem to know how to respond to being called ‘Queenie’ and so addressed Taako. “Rarely does a mortal affect the lives of a reaper. Even more rarely three. But I must respect their wishes, even if I wish I could convince them to stay longer.”

Kravitz shook his head, “Not a second without him in the world,” he said, taking Taako’s hand. Taako couldn’t help the little smile on his face.

Then, Lup took his other hand, and Barry took her other hand. “Ready, Koko?”

Taako turned, facing the sea of souls. “Hey, last thing,” he said, looking up at the Raven Queen, “the whole ‘your brains would melt’ if you knew about death is a cop out, right?”

The Raven Queen just smiled, and Taako sighed, frustrated. “Guess I just have to find out myself,” and he stepped into the shallows, his family with him.

#taz #the adventure zone #taako #barry bluejeans #kravitz #lup #the raven queen #laura writes

[drawing-intherain]

Oh for your writing prompts! 43. Youre lucky youre cute.

OK I GOT REALLY CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS ONE OVER 1K WORDS OF FLUFFINES PLEASE ENJOY

One nightin the midst of winter, Minna was woken up by steps outside her tent.

Any otherseason of the year, she would have jumped to her feet, equipped her armor and stoodin attention just in case, but now the entire camp was sleeping, the winter bringingthe war effort to a halt, and whoever it was had already slipped in her tent,the biting air of a snowstorm following them. She didn’t need to turn to seewho it was. By the heavy steps, the hour and the cold, it could be only one monster,or better said, only one elemental.She brightened her flame in hot light blues in greeting “hey, Bubbles”

Morganawaved a hand as she kicked the snow off her boots and clothes. Minna yawned asshe stirred to wakefulness, motioning at the ground besides her with a tired shrug“Finished your watch?”

The onlyanswer was a resigned huff and a halfhearted, almost pleading glare. Minnasighed good naturedly to herself as she propped herself up and with just a lookat the pitiful state of the water elemental she confirmed that yep, it was timefor their little winter tradition.

It was anagreement they had made long ago, out of convenience and, at Toriel´sinsistence, bonding. Camaraderie, helping each other for the common good, allthings the boss monster wished for her guard. And there was no way they weregoing to complain. Minna didn’t have it in her soul to turn away from Morgana atthe time, the only time she neededhelp, even if it was something as small as melting the frost in her core so shewouldn’t freeze completely solid. It would be cruel when she knew it was theone thing that the water elemental truly feared… and she had good reason.

After all, itwas a primal fear. The fear of helplessness. Of being trapped. That was howMorgana had described it, the first night she came to her tent, shivering andalmost crying out of pure panic, years ago, … but she didn’t want to rememberit. Not now. It was… harsh… seeing their strongest be so utterly terrified ofsomething technically harmless to the fire elemental.

Winter wasrough for everyone, but for some monsters,it was hell. Minna and Iliana were completely unaffected by the cold, Orianahad to be slightly careful with ice, but Morgana? It was like every single badthing that could happen to a water elemental banded together and then decidedto beat her up. She had to be inconstant motion to keep from freezing, deal with frost and snow clinging to hercore, and all the inconveniences and dangers that came with being made of waterin the season of ice.

And thisyear was no exception, Minna noted as Morgana stretched and popped her jointsto allow better mobility. Frost had already settled on her face and knucklesand going by the sickening crunches and cracks that resonated at her everystep, that was only the surface.

Minna couldn’thelp but wince at a particularly sharp snap as Morgana jerked her neck forward,the frost surface cracking as the water elemental sat down on the ground infront of the very tired, kind of worried fire elemental. 

Morganasighed contently, rummaging through her inventory “Hey”

With aflick of her wrist, Minna breathed out a small ball of flame that circled aroundMorgana “Hey”

They fellin a comfortable silence, the faint hiss of ice as it struggled to remaintogether the only sound aside from the shuffling of inventory slots.  Finally, Morgana pulled out a couple of heavyblankets, but didn’t cover herself with them. Instead, she shimmied closer toMinna, crackling her almost ice solid knuckles as she did so.

Minna extendedher hands just in front of Morgana´s face, where the frost was at it firmest. Shehummed sleepily while her fingers ghosted at a careful distance, ever socareful to only melt the ice “Anything interesting?”

“Ilianatried to fight a squirrel”

Minnasnorted despite herself “Did she now?” An affirmative nod from Morgana, whoshould be grateful the frost let her keep a straight face, made her breathe outa sigh of smoke “Who won?”

“The answermay surprise you” she deadpanned as she closed her eyes, turning her cheekstowards the warm of Minna´s hand. The frost had already melted away. Minna openedher mouth to say something witty, probably nonsensical in her sleepy state,when a particularly strong gust of wind forced open the canvas door of thetent.

“For god´ssake!” Minna hissed as she stood up, forcefully closing the entrance andkicking a stone over the edges of the canvas to force it to stay that way,praying silently to whatever deity was listening that no one had seen Morganainside her tent. They had reputations to maintain,dammit!

She turnedto face Morgana, and her flames sputtered in amused, tired pinks. In theseconds it had taken her to close the tent, Morgana had cocooned herself in theblankets and rolled away to a corner, with the only sign of her presence beingthe yellow light of her eyes peeking out. With a half giggle, Minna dropped unceremoniouslyto the ground besides her. It was better to drop the subject of the squirrel fightfor now.

She couldfeel the weight of Morgana´s glare as she settled down. The water elemental hadrolled again to lay slightly closer, and her hands peeked out to knead at the fabricof the blanket, to try and melt away the last of the frost in her fingers.

“You´relike a damn cat”

The answercame smug and muffled by the layers of fabric “But I´m your favorite cat,right?”

Minna feltmore than saw her own flames sputter in indignified, flustered colors, the damn sweet talker. She poked the blankets in where she assumedthe water elemental´s face was with a small hiss of smoke “You´re lucky you´recute”

The onlyanswer was a swift kick to her shin. Morgana turned away but didn’t scoot away.Minna yawned again, the missed sleep finally taking its toll “Goodnight, Bubbles”

Morgana mumbleda goodnight under her breath. Minna stayed awake until the faint, ocean wavelike sound of snoring started. Years earlier she would have been annoyed by it orhave made a half assed joke about kicking her out, but now, she didn’t bother. Sheknew she was going to wake up to an empty tent, anyway.

Please remember that i´m not a native english speaker, so if there´s a mistake please let me know so i can fix it!

#omg this is the first writing thing i have posted ever in my life im so excited #and nervous #but mostly excited!!!! #elemental ladies #morgana #minna #le writing #requests

[abadoodlesss]

Voltron - More Than A Prisoner - Chapter Three

Read previous chapters Here.

Next: Chapter Four 

Summary: Bella is adjusting to life as Voltron’s prisoner, making a few new friends as well as continuing to make Shiro her enemy.

Three days had gone by since Shiro dragged Bella back to her cell after the second interrogation. She had been confined to her cell since then.

As one could imagine, there wasn’t much to do. Bella spent the majority of her time pacing around the cell or sitting in various locations. All she could do was sit and think, perhaps talk to herself but she couldn’t bring herself to do it yet without feeling silly or just downright crazy.

It was strange. At least when she was a prisoner on Lotor’s ship there was always something to do: be afraid. Bella was constantly terrified that the Galra Prince would finally figure out what he was to do with her. He had visited her a handful of times, letting her know who was in charge, who controlled her fate, who to be afraid of. And she was. Lotor horrified her. He was dominant, a ruler, people listened to him and he didn’t take well to disobedience. Every time Bella was around the prince it felt like she was walking a tightrope. The second she made a wrong move she would fall down to the depths below.

With the paladins, no matter how intimidating Shiro (and consequently Keith) tried to be, she wasn’t afraid. The paladins wouldn’t hurt her, she was sure. Shiro may talk a big game and try to scare Bella but he’d already proven he wasn’t going to hurt her. He had plenty of chances to just kill her, but he didn’t. He had been rough with her but Bella knew he was just trying to assert dominance. Besides, whatever Shiro could dole out, she had already experienced ten-fold from the Galra. Being a prisoner of Voltron wasn’t so bad.

The paladins themselves weren’t so bad either. Bella became well acquainted with Lance in the past few days. He had insisted that he bring down meals to Bella and he always stayed to chat for as long as he could. Bella knew he felt pity for her but genuinely wanted to be her friend, which she appreciated. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if only for a few minutes at a time.

Bella also got the chance to meet Hunk. He and Pidge came down with Lance two days ago. Pidge didn’t stay long. She introduced herself and asked Bella if she knew anyone named Matt. She said he was a prisoner of the Galra too.

“I’m sorry, Pidge, prisoners don’t really see each other unless they’re in the same cell.”

She didn’t take the answer very well. With a mumble of some sort of thank you, Pidge left as Lance and Hunk called after her. The remaining three dropped the subject even though Bella was curious.

Hunk passed the tray of food under the door, apologizing about the food he was forced to make her.

“Shiro wont let me have any artistic license, so I guess you’re stuck with green goop. Sorry.” He told her.

“Green goop is better than nothing at all.” She said, digging in. It was an acquired taste but Bella could get it down.

The three of them got to chat a while longer, having a few laughs (mostly at Lance’s expense), before the two had to return. Lance said he didn’t want to stay too long, afraid Shiro would get suspicious, but each time he tried to stay longer and longer, drawing out his goodbyes.

The next day, Hunk came down to give Bella her dinner.

“Is Lance alright?” Bella asked, thinking it a bit strange that Lance wasn’t tagging along with Hunk.

“He’s fine, just asleep.” He said, sliding the tray into the small slot in the door.

“I didn’t think it was that late.” Bella had no real way to tell time, with no sun and moon to gauge and no clock of her own, she just guessed the time based on when her meals came.

“It’s not, I’m actually a little early with dinner.”

“Hmm. I didn’t know Lance had the circadian rhythm of a grandmother.”

“Hey, if anyone’s the grandmother of this team it’s me. I worked hard for that title.”

“My apologies, granny.”

They both shared a laugh for a moment.

“But he did have a long day training, so don’t hold a grudge against him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, granny.” She joked. “Do you have enough energy in you to stay and chat or do you need to go to sleep too?”

“I wish I could stay but we’re about to go eat dinner.”

“Oh don’t rub it in.” Bella said, her stomach growling at the thought of eating something besides green goop.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.” Hunk said, bending down and sliding what looked like a crumpled up ball of cloth into the slot before leaving.

Bella unraveled the ball to reveal a stack of three chocolate chip cookies. With a smile, she took a bite.

The next morning, Bella awoke feeling disgusting. It had been awhile since she last cleaned herself and it was pretty evident by her appearance. Her hair almost felt heavy because of the amount of oil seeping from her roots. Her hair was tangled and she could feel a layer of grime coating her body. She could only imagine what she looked like. Bless Lance and Hunk for being able to talk to her without gagging at either the sight or smell of her.

“Morning, Bella.” Lance called in his chipper voice.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Bella said.

“Sorry about not coming last night.” He said sliding what seemed to be a plate of toast under the door, but who could be sure with all the food there was from other galaxies.

“It’s alright, you needed your beauty sleep.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say I need beauty sleep?”

“Yes.” Bella said through a giggle.

“Well, you’re not so great yourself.”

“Maybe I’d be my usual ten out of ten self if I had clean hair.” Bella said, toying with a knotted strand on the side of her head.

“Yeah, when’s the last time you bathed? P.U.” Lance joked, pinching his nose for extra effect. Bella’s giggles were interrupted by a booming voice.

“Lance.” It called. “What are you still doing down here?”

The black paladin came down the hall, looking calm but Lance knew Shiro wasn’t happy with him.

“Just delivering breakfast.”

“What did I say about talking to the prisoner.”

“I’ve got a name.” Bella called. Even if she wasn’t actually offended, it was amusing to her to see Shiro’s eyebrow tick when she spoke.

“To not do it.” Lance answered, like a child answering their parent when they did something wrong.

“Then what are you still doing here?”  

Lance looked to Bella through the window. His eyes conveyed something apologetic.

She gave him a small nod, as if to affirm that it was okay if he left.

As Lance’s footsteps echoed off the walls, Shiro turned to Bella. “Get up.”

“Why?”

“You’re not in a position to question me.”

“What about now?” Bella asked changing the way she sat. “Or is this better?” She asked, moving her right leg out. “Does this seem like the position of someone who can ask questions?”

Shiro wasn’t having any of her sass. He opened the door to her cell and dragged her up and out by her arm. “You better start showing some respect or -.” He started.

“Or what? You’ll kill me? You can’t get those Galra secrets out of me if I’m dead.” Bella taunted.

He tightened his grip on her arm to the point where it hurt but remained silent until they came to a door.

“Where are we going?” Bella asked, trying to distance herself from Shiro.

“You are going to take a shower. Lance wasn’t wrong, you reek.” He said, bella felt her cheeks flush before she shoved down her embarrassment and replaced it with confidence, however fake it may be. 

He let go of her arm as the door slid open to a bathroom. Showers lined the walls, off to the left were bathroom stalls and opposite those were sinks.

Bella tried to hide her excitement as she speed-walked inside. There was no curtain, only a frosted glass door that she opened to a tiled stand-up shower. She reached her arm in an spent a few moments figuring out the perfect temperature.

Bella turned back to Shiro who was leaning against the door jam, arms crossed.

“Are you gonna leave…?” She trailed off.

“I don’t think you’ve earned privacy. Besides, I gotta make sure you don’t run for the doors.”

“I’m not getting undressed in front of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not doing it.”  

“Then don’t shower.” He said matter of factly.

Bella still stood with her arms crossed, matching Shiro’s stance. They held intense eye contact, but Shiro was growing impatient.

“Trust me, I’m not gonna look at you.”

“Hmmm, for some reason I’m finding it hard to trust you.”

“Fine, back to your cell then.”

“Or you could just not be a pervert, just throwing out options here.”

“What’s going on in here?” A small voice asked. Pidge came to the doorway, looking in between Shiro and Bella.

“He’s trying to watch me shower.”

“It’s not like that Pidge, I’m keeping watch to make sure she doesn’t run.”

“I could do that.” Pidge offered. Shiro looked unsure. “I mean, having a fellow girl in here might be less… this.” She said, motioning to Shiro and Bella.

Shiro thought for a moment. “Fine. Fifteen minutes.” And he was gone, of course not after sending a final glare Bella’s way.

She watched him walk away, then looked to Pidge. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Pidge said. “I’ll wait outside.” She continued, going to leave but she turned her head back to Bella. “Just don’t run away, it’ll make me look bad.”

“Promise I won’t.” Bella said.

Bella stepped out of the rags the Galra called clothes. She sported the Galra’s signature colors, dressed a tight black long sleeve underneath a loose fitting purple shirt that had a jagged hem with black pants to match. The clothes had been a “gift” from Lotor, he said she should be thankful he gave her anything to cover herself at all.

Thinking about the Prince disgusted her as she threw her clothes to the ground, dirtying them more than they already were.

She stepped into the shower and felt utter bliss as the steaming water cascaded over her body. A pleased sigh escaped her lips as she turned letting the water run down her back and over her head. Finding the bar of soap, she lathered up her body, scraping away at the layers of dirt and sweat.

Bella squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto her hands, working it into her roots down to the dead ends of her hair. She sat on the floor of the shower, watching as the bubbles trailed down her body and into the drain. She stayed there for a while, the bubbles were gone and the warm water was starting to fade away, but she still sat there.

“Are you alright in there?” Pidge called, poking her head in the bathroom but covered her eyes.

Bella sighed. She knew she couldn’t hide away in the shower forever. She grabbed a towel hanging off the shower door and wrapped herself up.

“Yeah,” She called. “Sorry about that, I lost track of time.” Bella explained.

“Don’t worry about it.” Pidge dismissed, not really looking at Bella.

“Pidge? Do you think these are alright?” Lance asked, walking into the bathroom as he looked through a pile of folded clothes in his arms, which he almost dropped the moment he looked at Bella.

He immediately turned his attention to his shoes, not wanting to be caught staring at the skin that her towel couldn’t cover. Lance’s heart dropped the second he saw her though. He couldn’t deny he thought Bella was as beautiful as her name entailed, but seeing her now amplified this thought. Her messy dark hair was tamed now, without streaks of dirt and tangles. Her blue eyes seemed to shine brighter against the contrast of her now clear skin.

“I-I-I brought these f-for you. I thought y-you’d be more comfortable.” He said, handing over a few pairs of pants and shirts of various sizes, still trying not to look at her.

“Where did you steal these from?” She asked, grabbing them from him.

“The majority of the pants are mine, a few of the shirts too. One’s from Hunk and those shorts are from Pidge.” Lance explained as Bella held up a much too big shirt. It was a golden yellow and would go down to her knees but it was softer than anything she’d ever felt before. “I just thought you wouldn’t want something more comfortable and less Galra-prisoner chic.” He said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the neck of his neck as he spoke.

“Thank you.” She said. Lance gave a smile at the genuine tone of Bella’s voice.

“It’s no problem.” He said, watching as her eyes scanned through the clothes. “Well, I’ll let you get dressed.” He finished, going to turn away but Bella put her hand on his arm. She planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, really, for being so sweet.”

Lance searched for something witty to say but his mind drew a blank. He let out an incoherent slur of words, mumbling something similar to “you’re welcome” before dipping out of the bathroom.

Pidge and Bella walked back to her cell silently, side by side. Bella had gotten dressed in Lance’s clothes, opting to use Hunk’s shirt as pajamas.

“Thanks for what you did back there.” Bella said, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

“Offering to ‘keep watch’.” She said. “That was nice of you.”

“It was nothing. I didn’t think Shiro would do anything I just knew things would go over more smoothly if I stepped in.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. I had half the mind to start throwing bars of soap at him until he left.” Pidge giggled at the image.

They made it to Bella’s cell.

“I’m sorry for being so… weird a few days ago.” Pidge confessed. “I just- I was hopeful that you knew Matt and I was disappointed that you didn’t have any information. I know it was kind of childish, deep down I knew you wouldn’t know him I was just- desperate.” Pidge’s eyes wear starting to gleam, tears glossing over her eyes

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help.” She said. “I hope you find him.”

“Me too.” Pidge said with a sniffle, replacing her frown with a sort of smile.

#voltron #voltron fanfiction #voltron imagine #shiro #shiro x reader #Lance #lance x reader #hunk #hunk x reader #Pidge #pidge x reader #in a platonic way of course #keith #allura #coran #lotor #fluff #angst #unedited #hope it's not shit

[joelmillerthirstqz]

Your writing is fantastic and it would be great to read some rough, shove-y sex with Joel 👀 also needy, clingy sex would be cool too

yooooooo hello these are 100% my interests, i will work on (them)!

Late-October Update: First part, Shove, is up on AO3 :)

Joel crosses his ankles as he leans against the porch railing, Molly predictably taking up Eugene’s offer to sneak out of the town Christmas party to smoke. How the hell he’d been dragged along as a bystander was beyond him, but his brow snaps into a line when Ellie and Jesse emerge from the other side of the porch, dulled music pulsing the walls of the church.

They sidle up to Eugene, who greets them warmly and offers them the lit joint, Joel’s mouth hanging open in protest, which, to his credit, he rethinks. Ellie gives him a look before taking a drag, and he segues his aborted comments into:

“I’m runnin’, if Maria comes out here,” he notes.

“Head to Jesse’s place and go down to the basement if you’re spooked, we’re just leaving too,” Ellie mutters, abundantly drunk, handing off to Jesse before disappearing inside presumably to give some form of goodbye.

Molly piques an eyebrow and Eugene beams.

“Careful, Molly, Alex’ll be excited to see you,” Jesse warns in his soft drawl.

Molly grimaces.

“What’s that possibly mean?” Joel tightens.

“You know how he’s lookin’. You’ll be fine,” Jesse slugs her on the shoulder and she looks at her arm and back to him, realizing the composure in his voice was not necessarily a sober man’s. Joel looks like he’s trying to fit his own smug smirk down the neck of his beer bottle.

—

Jesse’s basement is a smoky disaster zone, most of the patrol group burrowed in to drink, smoke, or evidently crawl all over each other. Joel has the sense memory of descending into a basement when he’d visited friends at school or been forced to go get Tommy from some A&M party.

Sarah’s mom was already gone by the time he got tackled into a wall by a pretty blonde a few years younger than him one night, in a hazy room like this. Fun-chasing as Tommy was, he saw the sliver of opportunity for a carefree night for his brother and sobered up, picked up Sarah and stayed the night at Joel’s, texting his brother to come home when he wished.

None of it feels particularly real now—someone else’s memories—until he refocuses on the Molly, forever baffled by the way she looks at him with her whole attention.

“Joel,” Molly urges, smiling at him from the bottom of the stairs and holding her hand out for his. She’d accepted his coat on the walk over, and tall as she is, the sleeves offer just the tips of her slim fingers.

He takes it briefly, still subtle enough, and meets her near the bottom. Ellie manifests from a corner, somehow having beaten them there.

“Best behavior. Welcome,” she grits, shoving a—flagon? Jug? Some type of container full of harsh whisky towards them. Dina watches her interaction curiously, chin in her hand. When Ellie rejoins her, Molly sees her mouth a “you did good!”

“You good?” Molly asks, taking the flask.

“I feel eight thousand years old, why?” Joel takes it back briefly for another hard swig.

Jesse’s steel toes thunder down the stairs behind them, hooking an arm over Joel’s shoulders.

“Anyone who goes out and shivs those motherfuckers is welcome. Also, this was Eugene’s idea, my place was just far enough from the—” his eyes widen in the realization of ‘I’ve said too much.’

Joel raises his hands.

“To my grave,” he vows, Jesse snagging the sloshing liquid Joel’s trying to steady and busting between them to slink into the dark opposite end of the room, from which raucous howling resounds.

“You think Tommy knows?” Joel glances around conspiratorially.

“Maybe. Want to get absolutely tanked?”

Joel can’t remember the last time recreational drinking in Jackson had been more than a few beers or a single whisky; some of his less adroit coping skills in Boston spring to mind readily. Molly’s dimples are showing as she smiles at him and he breathes deep and dives.

They work through three shots together, overhearing Eugene telling Firefly stories that’d make Tommy clobber him over the head.

“No, they called these body shots, idiot,” one of the patrol group younger than Ellie’s age emphasizes from the far corner. He takes a shot and slams his chest into his companion and Molly bursts out laughing.

“Outbreak babies. Christ,” she comments.

“You’re going to need to fill me in,” Joel admits, not fully recognizing the words strung together as a phrase.

Molly grabs him by the collar and whispers in his ear, his face tinging pink as she speaks, carelessly grazing his ear with her mouth. If anyone was starting to do the math around them, they definitely weren’t preventing much tonight.

Recognizing it quickly as she speaks and intimates what they could do later, “You don’t think Ellie’s—” Joel slurs together.

“Joel, yeah, I definitely do,” Molly nods, leaving him to put his hands on his head and feign stretching, scanning for his kid and finding an empty couch where she’d Dina had been progressively draping limbs over her.

“College, that right?” one asks, her patrol nickname less a sign of erudition and more a signifier of the younger group begging for stories of what they assumed had to have been a great time.

“Not even close,” she folds her arms.

Joel’s looking back over at her with an unfathomable expression.

Molly raises an eyebrow at him.

“Molly!” Both Joel and Molly snap around at the sound—an inebriated Alex, ever hopeful that Molly would take interest, ambling towards them.

“Alex,” Molly acknowledges.

“Look I’m juss gonna—” he gears up, puffing his chest out.

“Heyyy!” a chorus around the room lights up as Tommy comes into view, pausing at the stairs to beckon a more hesitant pair of jeans to finish the descent.

“Look what I brought,” Tommy announces, taking Maria’s hand faux-courteously and ushering her into the room. She takes a quick glance around the room for anything really out of line, but her eyes are back on Tommy.

Molly exchanges a glance with Joel, mouth turning down in a smile she’s clearly biting the inside of her cheek through. Tommy slots in by Eugene, squinting up at Joel like he can’t process his brother’s presence, Maria swarmed by red-handed occupants trying to earn her favor with the spectrum of tipple they offer.

“I think we’re skewing the demographic a bit,” Molly turns and starts, realizing Joel had pulled much closer and they’re inches apart.

If he leans in and whispers to her with an ill-contained smile, hand on her lower back, it’s not his business if anyone chooses to see it, even if it’s intentionally around the side visible to the whole room.

—

They barely make it back to Joel’s house in one piece, Molly fully face planting into the foot of snow twice. Joel almost offers to throw her over his shoulders but realizes he’s already swaying plenty and opts for an arm around her waist, which slows their progress considerably. Joel stops them every few seconds, guiding her momentum towards him to kiss her indiscreetly.

“Y’know, never personally did one of them body shots,” he murmurs, Texas inflection pouring out of him.

“How forward,” Molly teases back.

“I think you’re supposed to be lyin’ down, actually,” he jokes, getting his keys in on the fifth try and tugging Molly inside by the waist.

“Didn’t even make sense—” she complains, Joel’s hands on either side of her face as he kisses her. She grants him easy access, inviting the taste of the dark liquor into her mouth. He grabs her knitted hat and spikes it to the floor with far more force than necessary as he gets through her buttons with surprising dexterity.  

They kiss messily between being successfully liberated from each layer of her clothing and Joel finally scoops her hips up, forcing her legs around his waist and into the dining room with the table they were already perfectly certain could handle a decent amount of stress.

“Pity my missed youth,” he implores, even as Molly is reclining and clearly interested in humoring him.

“Just get over here,” she falls back to her elbows as he hovers over her, balancing on one hand.

“You know, you’d usually come at it from the side,” Molly instructs.

“That so? I think I can do it this way,” Joel laughs, pouring the bottle he’d retrieved right onto her breastbone with no warning.

“Jooooel! Fuck!” Molly squeaks when the cold liquor slides uniformly down both sides of her abdomen, quickly chased by his hot tongue. He seems to get to her navel before the liquid can even pool there; thorough in laving the sticky liquid off of her skin, returning to her belly and swiping it clean with broad strokes.

“That was not nice,” she chastises, fisting his barely-long-enough hair in one hand, other hand pawing at the rest of him.

It makes Joel tilt his chin up at her, a look that would be sharp if they weren’t both so obviously besotted and hammered at once.

He twists free with next-to-no effort, moving back down and biting the side of Molly’s abdomen, tugging the skin a little as he pulls back.

Molly lets him look pleased with himself for a second, leaning heavily over her with a cocky smirk. She bites his lower lip, always searching for the appreciative grunt it earns, and isn’t surprised that he enjoys the pressure right up until she draws blood. Even in the low light (nobody drew the curtains against the reflective snow) his eyes are almost completely dark and he’s running them over her body and back to her face raptly.

Joel grasps Molly’s thighs, hard, and drags her roughly to the edge of the table, almost pinching.

Molly slaps him, not too hard, stinging on the ridge of his cheekbone. His mouth drops open for a second and she can’t help herself with how captivating he is, slowly tabulating what various replies may cost him with a clench of his jaw.

Joel watches her curious expression considerately and notes the flush along her front, returning the gesture with an extraordinary sense of control for being drunker than he’d been in years.

“Harder,” he challenges, eyes glinting in the snow-reflected light. Molly obliges, and they smile like they’ve stumbled on inventing a new art form together.

Molly lurches them together, grasping the back of his neck and kissing him feverishly, Joel reciprocating as their fingers overlap to get him out of his shirt. Joel shifts one knee next to Molly on the table, and the nervous groan it gives in reply makes him sigh and drag her down to the floor with him.

Molly straddles him as he kicks out of his jeans. It takes two seconds for him to flip them, slamming her back to the floor a little more roughly than he would’ve sober. He hooks the back of her right thigh over his shoulder and moves his mouth to suck on her clit without pretense.

“Joel!” Molly whines, arcing up on the chilled floor, interrupting it with a gasp when his first two fingers spread her. He glances up and tries not to break his pace, but Molly’s so fucking stunning, wreath of cropped auburn spilled on the floor, eyes boring into him with a soft upturn to her mouth.

“Hush,” he grumbles, smacking her thigh as he rises to his knees and drags her hips towards him.

Molly always feels as receptive as her demeanor towards him would suggest when he first slips inside of her, but tonight it feels like she’s thrusting into him somehow. Her shoulders stick to the floor as she’s far too wobbly to curl forward while he’s got her suspended well off the ground. Molly locks her thighs and shoves one heel into Joel’s lower back, knocking him off his knees enough to push forward into his lap.

“God damn it, Mol,” he protests thinly, gazing up at her as she grinds onto him, palms fanning over his broad shoulders.

“C-close,” she mumbles, throwing her head back and basking in the rough treatment he’s lavishing on her breasts.

Joel strokes the side of her face with a reverence she’s going to tease him for in the morning before lightly slapping her again and grasping her hair in a mostly connected movement.

Molly comes hard, exclaiming loudly enough that he feels compelled to cover her mouth with his opposite hand. Molly’s shivering pulls him over fast, certain and uncaring that she’s drawing blood along his back. Joel cries out between some kind of euphoric giggle as she nips his palm, absurdity starting to dawn on her.

They both rock for a long minute as he comes, Molly affectionately kissing along his high cheekbones and stroking where she’d scratched.

Joel strokes her back in kind, boneless and comfortably counting the thrum of their heartbeats against each other. He huffs a soft laugh first.

“Don’t start. Was that good?” Molly asks.

“If you’re good, yeah,” Joel can’t stop touching her face at the most restrained of times, and he cradles it in two hands now. He seems to beam up at her, thoroughly contented.

Molly kisses along his cheekbones once more and he nudges her with his nose.

“C’mon, put a drunk old man to bed,” he jokes, patting her lower back gently..

#prompts #pending prompts #pending asks #tlou fic #Anonymous

[lordzuuko]

did shiro and keith ever break up during those 8 years of dating before they got married? like ofc not because of something serious but because keith was dumb and thought shiro deserves someone who can give shiro what he can't. but then shiro convinces him how much he loves him and how he doesn't care about any of that stuff. GIVE ME THE ANGST CATHREL xD

[The Voltron Pre-Family] The Time Keith and Shiro Broke Up Part 1 (Part 2)

Shiro felt like he didn’t have the will to live anymore. He didn’t want to sound a bit over dramatic, but it was dramatic. One minute he was at Keith’s door, ready to hang out with his boyfriend, the next minute, Keith was breaking up with him. It didn’t make sense. It all happened too fast.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. It’s just not working out anymore. Us, being a thing.”

What made it even worse was that, Shiro didn’t even get to say anything. Keith just said he didn’t want to see him anymore. His boyfr—ex-boyfriend—was being utterly unfair. And that was how he found himself crying on his bed while looking at the ceiling because he was confused and hurt. 

He had no idea what he did wrong. Earlier that day, they even had lunch together and everything seemed fine—Keith was fine. They’d been together for a year now and he was sure he didn’t cross any line—they just kissed, cuddled, and held hands. Definitely, nothing that could’ve upset the younger one. He kept his hands to himself and 100% in places Keith could see.

His Mom called and he just cried. After an hour or two of his sob-fest, his Mom sighed and said some comforting words. He felt a little better but it didn’t last too long when he saw Keith the following day for their shared class.

It sucked because Keith looked so soft wearing his red beanie and a black hoodie. However, he had black rings under his eyes and Shiro could tell he wasn’t the only one who lied awake last night. 

Usually, Shiro was good at paying attention to what the professor was saying, but that time all he could do was stare at Keith. He was still the most beautiful person Shiro had laid his eyes on and his killer side profile was causing him so much pain. The way Keith’s eyelashes would flutter when he looked down on his notebook to scribble something and then bite his lower lip when he couldn’t write faster to keep up with what their professor was saying—the agony. 

The way Keith scrunches his cute nose when he disagreed about something, the way he raised his right hand (always the right one) to ask a question only to reveal those pale wrist Shiro loved kissing because it tickled his boy–ex-boyfriend. The way Keith turned his head slowly to Shiro’s direction only to have his eyes widen in shock for being caught when their eyes met (not that Shiro ever looked away from the first place, but Keith didn’t need to know that).

—

When the bell rang, Keith gathered his bag and quickly headed to the door. He’d been avoiding Shiro all day and so far his bo—ex-boyfriend—hadn’t talked to him yet. Not like Shiro had any opportunity in the first place. It was all going great until he felt a strong hand hold his arm to stop him from leaving.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice sounded miserable.

Keith bit his lip because he felt the same. He turned around and let out an angry huff, “What? I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. You have free period after this, so we have time to talk.” Shiro knew when he was bullshitting his way out.

“I don’t want to talk,” he grumbled as he tried to break free from Shiro’s hold.

“Well, I do and you’re going to listen whether you like it or not.”

They both knew the classroom would be vacant after their class, so it was the perfect place for them and Keith just wanted to leave. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Shiro, signaling him to go on and that he was listening. 

“I hate you so much,” Shiro stated as he stared at Keith.

That caught Keith by surprise and his face softened because he felt sad? Upset? Confused? It definitely wasn’t the sentence Keith was expecting.

“I hate how you didn’t even give me the chance to say anything. You just slammed the door on my face—”

“I didn’t slam—”

“YES, YOU DID,” Shiro pressed on. “I can’t be the only one who’s not liking this situation, right? I’ve been listening to breakup songs since last night and I don’t want us to be the couple Gwen Stefani was talking about in her song ‘Cool’ where I call you by your damn new last name and I see you being happy with someone else and we just move on and become friends because I can’t do that with you, Keith. I can’t just be friends with you. Not anymore. Because when I see you, every time I see, I want to hug you, I want to kiss you, I want to touch you. Your hands, your cheeks, your hair, your friggin mole on your neck that you hate! But I don’t! Because it’s cute and it’s part of you and it makes me so mad,” Shiro held his hands up for emphasis. “…because you feel the same way. I know because I saw you stealing glances at me in the cafeteria during lunch!”

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Cut the bullshit, Keith,” Shiro glared and then let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on and I want to know because I honestly have no idea what I did wrong. First, we were okay, and then suddenly we’re not. You didn’t even mention why—”

“I’m not good for you, okay?!” Keith raised his voice as he stepped into Shiro’s space who in turn, stepped back. For a second, Shiro looked scared. Keith never raised his voice, especially not at Shiro. “I’m just…” he shut his eyes fighting his tears. “People know I’m not good for you. I hear them talk. Ever since people found out we were together, it’s never been really great to hear what they think.

“I usually ignore it because who cares what they think, right?” He let out a fake laugh as he gestured around the room. “But sometimes it just gets too much. Aside from the fact that people look down on my English major, they just had to add that I’ll never be good enough for you since you’re taking a Science one. The superior major.”

“Keith…”

“And you know what made it even worse? I went to the psychology department to pass a paper and overheard the professors gossiping when I left the room. They think I left already but I forgot my pen, so I heard everything. You know what they said? Such a pity Shirogane had to be tied to that gay boy. His grades have been slipping ever since they got together and he’s just going to ruin Shirogane’s chances for med school and having a family. Hopefully, it’s just a phase because what a waste of good genes.”

Keith didn’t realize he was already crying until Shiro wiped his tears. He took a step back only to be pulled closer to Shiro’s chest. He felt a hand softly caressed his hair and a chin rested on top of his head.

“They’re wrong,” Shiro said, almost in a whisper. “You’re not the reason my grades have been slipping. I took a terror prof because his time slot was the only one left. All of us are suffering in his class. The highest grade is a 2.5 and that’s already mine. Also, English Literature is hard and I know that because you’re always telling me to just kill you every time you write a paper.”

Keith smiled at that a little which just caused his tears to fall.

“What I do with my genes is none of their god damn business. Whether I use it or not, that’s my choice,” Shiro continued and it made Keith scrunch his nose. “I could be with the prettiest girl and have a family of my own and it’ll never be the same. I’d be the most miserable man because I’d be thinking of that boy I was in love with back in college. The One Who Got Away by Katy Perry.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he pinched Shiro’s side. “Stop it.”

“I told you,” Shiro looked down at him and smiled. “I was listening to sad songs last night.” When Keith didn’t say anything, Shiro added, “I know I say this a lot but honestly, Keith, I just… really love you so much? I’ve never felt so connected with anyone before in my life and we’re not talking about that type of connection, if you know what I mean.”

“Shut up,” Keith smiled as he buried his face into Shiro’s chest.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Shiro took a deep breath and said, “I don’t care. I don’t care about those things because when it comes to you, there’s just so much more. I look at you and I don’t think ‘Yeah, I get to take him home with me tonight and we’re gonna have so much fun in bed.’” He shook his head fondly. “I look at you and I think ‘I wonder how many bags of chips should I buy when we do our Ghibli marathon tonight? I wonder who will win this time around on who gets to quote the most lines of Howl’s Moving Castle?’ I look—”

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist and just squeezed him. He felt like his cheeks just turned crimson. “Okay, okay. I get it. Just stop, it’s getting embarrassing.”

Shiro chuckled as he tightened his hug in return. “You’re Keith Kogane. You love to read, you love to dance, you love anime, you love to cook, you love the sound of the storm… you love a lot of things. I just wish a lot of people could see that. See how wonderful the broody, angsty, ace Keith is. Although, he talks a lot of shit sometimes. But mostly, he amazes the heck out of me. He’s also the strongest and bravest person I know. He’s been through a lot and yet he’s still here standing straight.”

Keith looked up and Shiro’s eyes crinkled.

“Horrible, dumb, and stupid pun, I know,” Shiro just stared at him and whispered, “I’d really like to kiss you right now. That is, if I’m still allowed.”

Before he could stop himself, he punched Shiro in the tummy.

“Aw!” Shiro cried out, placing both of his hands on his middle for comfort. “What was that for? You just ruined the moment!”

“I had to,” Keith frowned, but his face betrayed him as he began to smile. “You were turning too sappy and you were getting ahead of yourself.”

“Oh,” Shiro sadly said. “So we’re still broken up then?”

“Yeah,” Keith said as he slowly grabbed Shiro’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

The gesture made Shiro stare at their connected hands and then back up at Keith, “Okay? Then why are you doing this? Why are you holding my hand? This is sending the wrong signals to me.”

“You talk too much,” Keith tiptoed and planted a kiss on Shiro’s lips.

As soon as they separated, Shiro looked at him with a funny expression. “So I’ve been told by my not-boyfriend.”

“You’re such a dork,” he rolled his eyes fondly as he pulled Shiro with him out of the door. “Also it’s 6.”

“Six what?” Shiro asked, swaying their connected hands as they walk in the hallway.

“Six bags of chips for our Ghibli marathon later,” Keith gave Shiro’s hand a gentle squeeze.

#red-paladin #ask #sheith #the voltron family #i apologize this was long omg sadkjhflkjashdfasdf

[yujachachacha]

Yujacha’s Birthday Scout for UR You

Now in meme format! Click for captions~

Final result of 24 scouts: UR Time Travel You x2, SSR Time Travel Ruby x1, SR Time Travel Kanan x3, various R cards x18.

Explanation of each image (i.e. the full story of my scouting adventure) under the cut!

I debated whether I should make this post, or try my hand at making a video since I recorded my scouting adventure. However, editing would take me a while, and I also kinda didn’t look forward to hearing my own voice since I talked during the scouts. When I mentioned this in a previous post:

...which is a good point. _(:3 」∠)_ I might still decide to make the video after all, but in the event that I do, it would be a while before I’d finish it. Thus, I came up with this post!

1. To scout or not to scout

Context: I put up a poll on Twitter + asked Tumblr if I should try scouting on SIF for my birthday, since it happened to fall within the “increased chance of pulling new members” period for the latter half of the Time Travel set. Since Time Travel You happens to be my favorite out of her URs so far, I decided to slightly bend my self-imposed rule of “no scouting until Rin’s birthday box is up on the Global SIF server” by using the large amount of scouting tickets I’d saved up.

The options were as follows:

Yes, but only use some.

USE THEM ALL Y O L O

No, you’ll regret it T_T

save for rin, u traitor!!

As you can see from the first image in the above photoset, the poll winner was option 2 - using all 79 of my tickets.

2. >Has 2.4k love gems >Scared of using just 24 tickets

Those of you who’ve been up-to-date on my blog know that I ended up picking option 1 instead. Now, I do have an explanation for this. What happened was that I was in a video chat with some ONIBE members towards the end of my birthday. At that point, I realized that the number of votes meant that I would be scouting that day. What I hadn’t decided, however, was whether I would actually use up all of my scouting tickets.

I then asked ONIBE what their votes would be, and most of them wanted to see me scout. Some of them thought it would be bad luck to scout while streaming it, but in the end we came to the consensus that I should just use some of the tickets - and that’s how I ended up picking option 1.

One of the replies to my poll was to use 40 tickets for You, and save 40 for Rin (I would technically only have 39 left if I did go with this plan, but I’d definitely be able to earn at least 1 more scouting ticket before November). I really liked this idea, and was thinking of trying this out when an ONIBE member suggested using just 29 tickets to scout, leaving me with a nice round number of 50 for the future. I wasn’t a huge fan of such an odd number, but then it inspired me to pick a similar number: 24, to represent my birthday.

I very reluctantly made my way to the scouting screen and tried delaying the inevitable for several minutes - “nooo, I’m gonna regret this...aaaah...ugh...” and so on. This was the first time I’ve seriously scouted, not counting the few scouting tickets I used when I started SIF (which all turned out to be Rs). My strongest cards, as a result, are Promo URs and idolized event SRs. My teams are pretty pitiful, but it’s all for the sake of seeing my teams get filled up with Rins later this year...!

3. Finding happiness in the small things

My first three scouts were all Rs. I wasn’t really discouraged, since scouting tickets are the equivalent of solo yolos. I was pleasantly surprised when the new SR Kanan showed up so early in my scouting run. I was glad to welcome her as the first non-event SR I’ve ever pulled!

The next two pulls after the SR joined my growing pile of R cards, and at this point someone in ONIBE pointed out that I hadn't pulled a repeat card yet. All of the cards so far were unique girls. In order: Dia, Riko, Maru, Kanan (SR), Ruby, and Chika. Pretty interesting. What I chose to nitpick about, however, was the fact that You hadn’t shown up yet, not even as a R. Then, three pulls later...

4. “Should I stop scouting now?”

My exact words when I was doing this scout: “Lucky nine! You-chan! You-chan! You-ch-”

*UR envelope flies out*

“Oh my-”

*UR Time Travel You pops out*

“OHMYGOD HAHAHA-” *breaks down into hysterical laughter*

I was talking relatively quietly up until then because it was towards the end of the day, but I screeched really, really loudly when UR You popped up. My dad actually came into my room to ask me what was wrong, haha.

At that point, I asked myself if I should stop now that I had achieved my goal of obtaining UR You, and someone said I should try to idolize her. My exact words: “I highly doubt I'm going to pull her again. Like, what are the chances that I'm gonna pull her again?”

Oh, the irony...

After several minutes of indecision, I decided to push forward since I did want the You UR idolized. I pulled a bunch of R cards again after that, and during that time I casually remarked that since I got SR Kanan and UR You, it would be really nice if I got SSR Ruby.

5. Ruby answered my wish

Seriously, the scout right before this was KimiKoko Ruby, and I was just like, “Oh, okay. Wrong Ruby, but good to see her.” Then when I pressed the scouting button again:

*SSR envelope flies out*

“Oh?”

*SSR Time Travel Ruby pops out*

“OH MY GOD! Oh my god, what the fuck...?”

With that, I had everyone in the Pure trio, AKA Kayouby (coined by Furirin during the December 2016 trio niconama), for the Time Travel set. The only card I hadn’t pulled yet for this half of the set was SR Yoshiko!

At this point, I was cackling, “Birthday luck is real!” But then I had another “I'm scared, I wanna stop now” moment because I was lowkey terrified of these nice scouts. I eventually convinced myself to keep trucking on.

6. YohaMaru confirmed(?)

Two scouts later, I tried saying “Yohane, shoukan!” on a whim to see if I could pull the remaining card in the Time Travel set. When Maru popped up instead, I just said, “Oh. Well, I summoned her girlfriend~” haha.

7. “Oh! Okay, that’s nice, I can idolize her!”

Kanan now had the honor of being my first idolized non-event SR as well when I ended up pulling her again. After my bout of joy, I exclaimed, “This is pretty good for solo yoloing! WTF is up with my luck today?!”

On the scout right after this, I actually pulled the same exact Smile R Maru card that I had pulled right before Kanan. :3c

8. “Oh! What the- haHAHAHAHA”

This was scout #20. Within 20 scouts, I got the same 2 URs. I know there was a rate-up for this set, but this was crazy!

My second hysterical laughing fit of the day ended up waking my mom, who was sleeping at the time. Oops. But I was extremely happy to be able to idolize my favorite UR so far of my best Aqours girl!

Though, this scout also triggered “I actually want to stop now” self-doubt session #3. Someone commented on my reluctance to scout, and I retorted, “How else do you think I've saved 2.4k love gems? It only took me...two years...” I can only hope that my self-restraint for Rin’s sake will result in something as good as my birthday scouts.

Next scout was a R Chika, and I remarked, "No, it's all gonna be rares now. I've used up my luck for the year."

9. lol bich u thought

Scout #22 brought me my third SR Kanan. I guess my second best Aqours girl loves me a lot~

Once I found out that this card was a Perfect-Locker, someone suggested selling her for seals. I briefly considered it, but thought it was better to just use the 3rd Kanan to unlock her final skill slot.

10. Datenshi misfortune averted?

My last two scouts were R Maru (Mijuku Dreamer set) and R Ruby (Aozora Jumping Heart set), even though I chanted “Yohane, shoukan!” for both of them.

Hilariously, this meant that I ended up with a grand total of zero Yoshiko cards. I've opted to interpret this as her way of granting me birthday luck by keeping away her notorious unlucky streak away from me. Thank you for your sacrifice, oh mighty fallen angel Yohane-sama. :’)

Results

24 scouts → 2 URs, 1 SSR, 3 SRs, 18 Rs:

You: 2 URs, 1 R

Ruby: 1 SSR, 3 Rs

Kanan: 3 SRs

Chika: 4 Rs

Maru: 4 Rs

Riko: 3 Rs

Dia: 2 Rs

Mari: 1 R

Yoshiko: 0

Goals achieved:

(Initial objective) Pull UR Time Travel You → ✓

Pull SSR Time Travel Ruby → ✓

Idolize UR Time Travel You → ✓

Pull SR Time Travel Yoshiko → X

In the end, I of course withdrew the URs for idolization. I also decided to withdraw Kanan, even though she's a PL card, since I don't own that many idolized SRs. The SSR Ruby, however, is still in the present box. The last card I withdrew was actually that Smile R Maru in Image #6, because I actually hadn't idolized that particular card yet.

Lessons learned:

Birthday luck is real.

Chanting “You-chan” will summon You-chan.

Chanting “Yohane, shoukan” will not summon Yoshiko (but it might summon her girlfriend Maru).

Every time I doubt my scouting luck, SR Kanan will show up to prove me wrong.

Don’t ask the internet if I should use up all my scouts on solo yolos, because the answer will always be “yes”.

#love live! school idol festival #love live school idol festival #llsif #aqours #time travel set #yujacha plays sif #queuetie panther #ignore the watermark i was too lazy to make proper images :blobwhistle: #this is the most insane luck i've ever had #if good shit like this happens when i scout using actual love gems for rin #imma probably collapse from cardiac arrest

[supaliaxpress]

Tomorrow With You Review Episode 1 & 2: Tomorrow, the Sun will Rise

It’s going to take some time to heal from Goblin, but the new drama that replaced it’s time slot (ugh... that sounds so sad T.T) is tvN’s new series, “Tomorrow With You.” The story is very promising and also has this similar touch of fantasy with being about time traveling. 

So this is going to be a short review and reaction to the first two episodes because the episodes come out today and tomorrow, lol (plus what happened in episodes 1 & 2 is pretty self-explanatory except for a few unsolved questions which I’ll briefly discuss). Basically, the first two episodes were made to setup the story-line for the drama and introduce our main characters.

It’s hilarious how he’s is the only one not suited up, lmao, this scene was great!

At first, Yoo So-Joon is portrayed as a guy who doesn’t give a shit about other people, unless it concerns him, because he has the power to travel to the past, present, and the future by riding the subway, “You may have many questions about your future. But, I decline all questions. I have no interest in the lives of others.” We learn that he could never go beyond March 25, 2019 at 9:15 pm because that will be the day of this death. However, one day he was able to go to that date and witness his death personally... but we don’t know why. He met another time traveller, Doo-sik, who then taught So Joon all about time traveling and gave him the idea to seek out the woman who died with him. So Joon indeed sought out Ma Rin and saved her from dying, despite him stating he doesn’t involve himself in other people’s lives. We slowly learn more about him  being a CEO of a huge company and as a guy who has no awareness of how he approaches people -- such as touching Ma Rin casually despite being total strangers. But we further learn that So Joon isn’t what he really seems to be. We learn that he’s an orphan who lost his parents in a subway accident, while he was miraculously saved because of a certain woman who thought he took her pictures. We learn that he felt extremely terrible for being left behind alive and that was when he gained his powers... but we still don’t know why he received his time traveling powers in the first place. 

At first, Song Ma-Rin is portrayed as a failure celebrity who is a laughing stock as a drunkard; she became famous for playing Bap Soon. But Ma Rin has a different passion -- photography; however, the photographer whom she admires is a fuckin asshole and treats Ma Rin very disrespectfully (Ugh... who else was pissed when she kept calling her Bap Soon (like her mother and friend)??? She has a name damnit.) Despite all of this negativity in her life, she still has a positive outlook because she survived a train accident... the same train accident So Joon miraculously survived too. Before So Joon learned that Ma Rin was the woman who saved his life, So Joon only approached Ma Rin for the sake of himself... without ever trying to understand Ma Rin. She confused So Joon’s approach towards her as him ‘liking’ her and most likely began to like him in return. However, ever since So Joon involved himself in Ma Rin’s life, his future dramatically changed to the point where they were married 3 months later. Because of this change, So Joon immediately distanced himself from Ma Rin and decided to end things with her... but before he could tell her his true feelings, he learned about Ma Rin’s childhood and how she was forced against her will to be in the show because of her mother. Even though Ma Rin seems to be a straight-forward and head-strong girl, she is timid in asking others for help and doesn’t want to burden others with her problems -- that’s why she didn’t immediately ask So Joon for help to be a model for the photoshoot. Out of pity, So Joon decided to help her one last time and ended their relationship --- tbh, this was an asshole of a move... just saying... >.> Poor baby Ma Rin... I wish I could give her a hug. Ma Rin being herself, played it cool and smiled it away.... saying that they never had a stable relationship to begin with because she doesn’t even know his name. 

I personally really like the main characters of this drama... though So Joon appears to be a cold guy -- he actually does care to some extent and that’s why he doesn’t involve himself in other people’s lives because he doesn’t want to hurt them (such as the friend who broke up with his girl friend, but she was actually cheating on him with another guy all the time and So Joon knew that). Though he overworks his best friend, he genuinely cares for his friend and doesn’t hesitate to stand up for him (such as when he was bullied in the elevator... that scene was great, lol). But the greatest character development for So Joon is when he is torn with himself involving in Ma Rin’s life... even though he cut ties with her and returned his future to how it “normally was” where they weren’t married... he still looked for her in the future and that’s how he finally learned that she was the woman who saved him from the train accident. And BAM! So Joon returns to Ma Rin’s side because he’s always wanted to find the woman who saved him... and this time it’s his turn to protect her because she’s going to die with him in the future... frigging onion ninjas T.T 

Also, we still don’t know WHY he got his power to time travel.. we just know how he got them. I wonder... perhaps he got his powers in order to save Ma Rin in the future??? Their fates are definitely connected somehow... 

I immediately fell in love with Ma Rin... I love how dynamic her character is and I LOVE HER STYLE! It’s cute, fun, and spunky like her. I love how she’s head-strong and wants to live happily, but she’s not perfect... she has her flaws cause she’s human... she loves to drink... she’s clumsy... and sometimes she falls to her temptations, but she’s honest with her actions. Even though the photographer she admires doesn’t like her (for now -- Ma Rin will change her I think because the photographer just needs someone to change her perspective), Ma Rin is an amazing photographer who carefully and lovingly takes pictures and interacts with her models (such as encouraging them and standing up for them). Also, I definitely don’t blame her for thinking So Joon was weird for touching her so often... that was very weird and awkward too. And I definitely don’t blame her for thinking So Joon kinda liked her because he essentially “played” with her because he was using her to understand why she was involved with his future. It wasn’t shocking how Ma Rin and So Joon have already previously met... but it makes me wonder why they don’t remember each other’s faces lol.... 

I particularly find the other time traveller, Doo-sik, to be very interesting because he knew that So Joon was going to die at that time and was the ONE who suggested him to seek out Ma Rin. He obviously knows more than what he seems because in episode 2, we see he has files and loads of information about years and dates of SOMETHING... perhaps he’s more than just a time traveller??? I kinda think Doo Sik might be ANOTHER So Joon from an alternative world... future... where he failed to save Ma Rin. So I think he’s trying to make amends for his failure by ensuring Ma Rin will survive this world, why else would he be so insistent on So Joon searching Ma Rin and how he EXACTLY knew So Joon’s time and location of death. 

I also wonder if there’s a second lead couple... if not... that’s totally fine too cause I love the focus on So Joon and Ma Rin. However, I do want to learn more about So Joon’s friend... he’s so precious... I think he might have a bigger role than just being a bro... while Ma Rin’s model friend definitely might have an important role than just being a model. 

Overall, I love the story so far... it kinda reminds me of Goblin with the supernatural feeling, the tragedy, and how both actresses have a tough childhood. I also like how the main guys both have “special powers,” but Shin used his powers to perform miracles while So Joon doesn’t use them for others at all. The colors in Tomorrow With You are so beautiful... I love how they’re so bright and complex. And lastly, I love the subtle usage of the word, “Tomorrow,” in this drama... it’s definitely go to play a big role in this drama considering it’s in the title. Such as in episode 1, Ma Rin said in the car after them drinking together, “Tomorrow, the sun will rise.” 

Oh... and sorry Reporter guy... even though you were the one who helped So Joon and Ma Rin back together with your article... homeboy So Joon belongs with Ma Rin... lmao (it was kinda sad how he just got tossed to the side when So Joon came and took her away). 

I can’t wait to see what will unfold cause So Joon came back and TOLD her his name... and asked, “Who are you?” Well... boy... she is the woman who is gonna teach you about life, love, and is gonna sweep you off your feet, lol. 

She’s your wife. And you better damn save her. T.T

#Tomorrow With You #tvn Tomorrow With You #Song Ma Rin #Yoo So Joon #Kdrama #SupaliaReviews #TomorrowWithYouReview #Well I'm super late with this review lmao #I think this will be a great drama #But I still miss Goblin T.T