#more than the subtle hints of maybe maybe not the writers had the nerve to throw in

[sheep-and-lykos]

In A Week’s Time: Elliot x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

VERY long Stardew Valley fic and I have fallen back in love with the game and Elliot.

Really just plain vanilla lovings below!

Song Choice: Not Just A Girl - She Wants Revenge

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum's better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring's fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let's not get started about the starfruit patches to which you'll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he's used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean's shore. The writer's eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

"My darling?" he mumbled behind you.

"It's summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!" you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

"I'll make coffee," he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie's ranch.

You smiled, watching him leave to the kitchen slowly, you snagged your trusty hoe that sat right by the front door and set off.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre's store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm's soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

"Tired, my darling?" he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

"Not yet," you hummed.

"Good! I have wonderful news I'd love for you to hear," he chimed.

"Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?"

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

"Do you remember the genre of book you've inspired me to write, my love?" Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott's cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn't been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would've questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

"Sorry, excuse me," you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

"It's this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read." "Oh!" You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. "I... Romance I guess. I haven't really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but..." "Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm."

"Romance," you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

"It's a very short notice for such big news, but I've been invited to do a reading tour for the book you've inspired me to write."

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

"You're leaving Saturday," you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

"I am. But only for one week, my radiance." He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. "Will you be alright? I'll be gone for one week and it's already the start of a new crop season for us-"

"Go on it! This is what you've wanted, yeah? I'll be fine!"

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

"I'll be here for the rest of the week, though. I'll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals."

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

"When do you leave Saturday?"

"I believe before noon."

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he's given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he'll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer's day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other's limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott's button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott's passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he's able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn't know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott's strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn't have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott's lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott's nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

"I hardly think it's fair for you to still be dressed while you're stripping off all of my clothes," you pointed out.

"My dearest, I believe you're right. How rude of me."

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail's pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott's hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott's graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

"Elliott," you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

"My dear (Y/n), what do you need?" he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

"You," you whimpered.

"And what do you want me to do?" he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

"I want you to fuck me into this mattress."

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband's cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott's cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott's hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott's back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott's eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott's cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott's cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn't help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

But for now, you both laid there side by side, looking lovingly into the eyes of each other, enjoying the euphoria and riding it until it ends in his loving embrace, tangled in the sheets in the farmhouse far away from the world.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn't help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down... just a bit.

"You'll do great out there. I promise," you smiled. "Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you'll do great."

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre's, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid's pendant... You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid's pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn't here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It's summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn't there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

"I promise to write to you every day, my radiance," he murmured into your ear.

"Every day?"

"Every day without fail."

"I love you, Elliott."

"And I love you, (Y/n)."

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

"Be careful, yeah?"

"Of course, my dearest."

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley elliot #elliot x farmer #elliot x reader #stardew #stardew valley #stardew valley fic

[xoluvx]

wish you were gay; zendaya

(gif)

The touch of her hand on your face was warm; you could tell her hand had been tucked under her pillow. The warmth radiated through your body all the way to your heart as your eyes fluttered opened. 

The smile on your face quickly vanished when you realized it was all in your head. Your bed was cold and empty. Sighing, you rolled on your back; your eyes were sensitive to the sun peaking through the curtains and your tummy grumbled signaling it was to get up. 

You really wished you could stay in bed and dream just a little longer.

“He’s here,” Sarah warned you handing you her cup of coffee. Sarah was your boss. The cup came flying at you and you had to act quickly to ensure you didn’t spill it. Being part of the crew for this film was much less luxurious than you’d expected, but that was show business. 

He was indeed there leaning against her as they watched one of the actors walk through a scene. Their heads were slightly touching, cozied up in their oversized jackets. 

“Here’s your coffee,” you said clearing your throat while handing her the cup trying to avoid eye contact. She straightened her body reaching to grab the warm cup.

“Thank you, you are incredible!” She responded bringing the cup to her lips. She carefully took a sip. The guy next to her didn’t move. You awkwardly excused yourself looking over your shoulder sneakily once you were at a distance. She was still sitting up with the coffee held up to her lips. 

“Gosh, you’re so in love,” Sarah echoed as she stood next to you with a clipboard stiff against her chest. Your shoulders straightened up as you heard her voice. This was so embarrassing. Did everyone know? Did she know?

“Leave me alone,” you replied jokingly really hoping she’d finally stop bugging you. But as long as this movie continued, that was not going to happen and your feelings for her weren’t going anywhere. Though you really wished they would just vanish.

“I’m not working tomorrow so you have to step up. That includes spending the entire day with her,” she warned with a teasing undertone in her voice. 

“As long as he’s not here, I think I’ll be okay.” You hummed watching the two of them cozy up once again. Her coffee cup now resting on the floor next to her. Her legs slightly draped over his lap.  

Your day couldn’t have finished quicker. 

The next day, your legs felt heavy as you walked towards the set. Your coat hanging heavy on your shoulders. Skipping breakfast had probably not been a good idea, but you’d been so restless the previous night and decided to use the extra time in the morning to sleep. Pure regret.

“That one is really good,” her voice creeped up next to you as her slender finger pointed at a granola bar on the plain white table. She was reaching for a muffin at the same time.

“Isn’t it your job to tell me what’s good?” she joked and you coughed up a sheepish laugh feeling your face burn with embarrassment. 

“It’s no excuse, but I had a busy morning so-” you explained lifting the granola bar she’d suggested knowing damn well your morning was filled with sleep. 

“Happens to all us,” she comforted smiling while picking off a piece of the muffin before placing it in her mouth. “So you’re stuck with me all day,” she dragged out her words in a joking manner which caused you to shift on your feet as you nodded like an idiot. 

“I have the list of everything you need today and besides that, you can reach me -” you were rambling playing with the clipboard resting on the table that had all your tasks for today. 

“Relax,” she exhaled placing a hand on your shoulder. At first her hand laid flatly on your shoulder, her thumb near your collarbone. Slowly, and almost naturally, her hand fell to your upper arm and she gave you a small reassuring squeeze. Her face radiating with a warm smile and suddenly, you felt relaxed.

To say the day was easy would’ve been a complete lie. She wasn’t hard to handle, she was very chill. But your heart skipped a beat each time she came around so today your heart was on high alert the entire day. You couldn’t wait to get home and think of how her way her hair fell on her face. Or how her laughter filled a room and brightened up the mood. 

“So how’d she do?” Sarah asked the next day as you stood besides her awkwardly. Zendaya was standing facing the two of you with her usual radiant smile. “She was great,” she gave you a small glance. You could’ve sworn you saw a twinkle in her eye. Maybe it was just your imagination again. Wishful thinking. 

“I know this doesn’t happen often, but I’d like her to be my full time assistant-“ she started saying focusing on the woman. “-if that’s okay,” she finished her sentence glancing at you as if asking for permission, but the smile she flashed you afterward was almost flirtatious. You could feel your face burning. Your heart thumping and you hands shaking. 

“Oh, really?” Sarah asked giving you a mischievous look wondering what it was you’d done that made Zendaya so eager to have you as her assistant. Geez, you wished you knew too. You couldn’t hide the nerves that were coursing through your body as you cleared your throat. Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this situation. 

“It can be arranged,” she nudged you on the shoulder and you stammered a ‘thank you’ to Zendaya who just shrugged and smiled sweetly. 

It’d been almost a month since you became her full-time assistant. Your job had never been so easy yet so complicated. Working with her was like working with your best friend, a best friend you were in love with. As much as you tried repressing those feelings, especially when you’d see him coming on set and making her giggle her very distinct giggle, it was simply impossible.

Whatever was growing inside you was becoming untamable and you felt like your feelings were going to spill out any second. 

She, on the other hand, was composed. Though you knew your relationship was strictly professional, there were glances and sometimes subtle touches that turned you to mush. But then he’d come around and it was if you didn’t exist.  

“I need advice,” she announced turning from the chair she was sitting on in front of the mirror in her trailer. You were waiting for her patiently on the small couch in the trailer playing with the clipboard resting on your lap. 

“What’s up?” you still felt nervous and awkward around her. You saw her get up from the chair and take a seat at the other end of the couch. Her arm resting on the back of the couch. 

“So Tom wants me to go with him to this premiere,” she started saying talking with her hands. You straightened up at the sound of his name. You couldn’t deny that the topic made you uncomfortable and you couldn’t bare to hear her talk about someone else. 

“I sense a but,” you added watching her lean her head on her hand. She motioned to move your clipboard from your lap and you watched her move her body so her head was on your lap. Her hair sprawled across your thighs; her legs stretched over the small couch. Her hands were resting on her belly as she stared up at the ceiling. She made herself comfortable. You, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do with your hands. You awkwardly held them at your sides watching her. 

“But I don’t want people to start rumors. I mean, I love Tom. Don’t get me wrong, he’s like my best friend. I just don’t want people to start making up lies. Everyone already thinks we’re a thing-” she was still rambling about her predicament but your focus had diverted to what she’d just said. Were they not a thing? 

“I’m confused,” you called out stopping her.

“About what?” she asked now looking at you with those sweet, round, brown eyes.

“You’re not dating Tom?” you asked. Your voice almost raspy and most definitely shaky.

“Of course not!” She laughed slightly still resting her hands on her moving belly.

“I just assumed-” you started saying as you subconsciously let one of your fingers play with a tussle of hair cascading down the side of your thigh. You tended to fidget a lot when you were nervous and her hair was the first thing in reach. 

“We’re just friends,” she said softly. She’d felt your finger twirling her hair and her voice had grown more gentle as did her eyes. She could see your chest rising and falling as you tried controlling your breathing. She got up slowly and you let go of her hair. 

When she sat up she was closer than she’d been earlier. Her arm extended so it was draped on the couch behind your body. 

“I thought it was obvious,” she whispered watching your face closely as if she were trying to memorize your features. 

“That you and Tom weren’t a thing? You two seem pretty close-” you babbled trying to avoid eye contact. 

“No. That I like you,” she breathed putting emphasis on her confession. One hand was on your cheek turning your face towards hers. Your eyes locked. You could swim laps in those deep brown eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her lips slightly parted. 

“Me?” you croaked. Your hands were shaking at your sides; you felt all the warmth draining from your body.

“Yes, you. Silly,” she exclaimed chuckling still holding your face. You couldn’t believe your ears. You couldn’t believe her touch. She was warm. Just like you’d fantasize in your dreams. Just like you’d imagined. Just like you’d wish.

You couldn’t find the words to describe what you felt. So you boldly placed a hand on her cheek. 

“May I?” you whispered only inches away from her pouting lips. She nodded with a hint of a smile on eyes. Nervously, you closed the gap between your faces. Your lips shyly pressed against hers. With every nanosecond you felt yourself melting into her. 

You didn’t have to wish anymore.

- 

tags: @the-codeine-scene @lavender-writer​

#zendaya #zendaya imagine #zendaya x reader #zendaya x fem!reader #zendaya fluff #zendaya fic #zendaya x you #zendaya x y/n

[sunlitangles]

Prose and Cons

I had the pleasure of also writing a fic for the @grishaversebigbang! Please go check out the other wonderful fics written by my fellow Etherealki. 💙

Thank you to my Corporalki @jdobrski and my sensitivity readers @niecity, @nekonamicosplay, and @wybiegowritey

And my talented Materialki (please check their pieces out and show them some love):

@ninaaswaffles x

@artzy-lia-art x

@dingy-doodles​  x

@protec-kuwei-yul-bo x

Summary: When his father kicks him out of America in disgrace, Wylan leaves for London looking for opportunity. He loves telling stories and sharing knowledge, so when the publishing company Crows Publishing accepts his application as a writer, he is overjoyed. There’s only one problem- Wylan can’t physically write. The solution to this stumbles into his life as Jesper Fahey, the anonymous author of popular war-time novels and coworker. They quickly enter a co-writer relationship, but maybe Wylan wants it to be more. The pair starts to get closer, but it isn’t long before Wylan gets caught up in the secret goings of the Crows Publishing company.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316439/chapters/64080943

Keep reading after the cut for chapter one! 

“Mister Van Eck, I simply must inform you that you are not qualified for this job,” said the man. Wylan sighed and glared at the stout man sitting before him. “Mr. Rollins, I really need this job. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I-” Wylan started but was quickly cut off. “Van Eck, I couldn’t give a damn. Now, please see yourself out of my office,” Mr. Rollins said, spit flying out of his mouth. He didn’t give Wylan another look, proceeding to make a ‘shooing’ gesture and turned back to his records. Wylan grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

Wylan stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his tweed blazer. He grabbed the strap of his leather bag as Mr. Rollins lit a cigar. The beady gaze of the older man followed Wylan out of the office, and as Wylan stepped outside into the cool autumn breeze, the noisy bustle of London streets overwhelmed him. Wylan resisted the urge to plug his ears, which were not accustomed to the din. The countryside was never this loud. He missed the scent of the rolling fields, the clean autumn breezes, and the subtle hints of life on the farms nearby. He sighed disdainfully and stepped into the chaotic streets of London.

The intricately built buildings arched high above Wylan, seemingly watching his every move. What am I supposed to do now? His bag thumped against his side as he strolled the uneven cobblestone, dodging other pedestrians in long coats and large skirts. He was alone in this damn city with no steady source of income. If only my dad could see me now, Wylan thought, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He walked down Fleet Street, a sour expression stuck on his pale face. He strolled past the brightly lit shops of 36th street, the warm smells of the bakery wafting towards him. He stopped in front of the shop, observing the buttery pastries and golden rolls in the shop window. The soft light emanating from the bakery illuminated workers bustling around inside, putting more dough in the oven and piping thick jam on top of fluffy cakes. His mouth watered at the sight of flakey scones and he longed to taste at least one warm confectionery but tore himself away from the shop, turning back to the crowded streets. He certainly didn’t have the money for those types of luxuries yet.

He continued down the street, avoiding the large skirt of a beautiful fair-skinned brunette who strutted as if she owned the town. Her red dress flaunted her generous, soft body. She was fairly plump, and Wylan could tell her corset was laced far larger than customary. He stared as she bounced down the street, entering the bakery with a wide grin on her face. The other patrons stared after her, their expressions a mix of disgust and confusion. Wylan grinned to himself.

Loose pebbles skittered down the path as Wylan continued to make his way down to the run-down hotel that he called home for the time being. He’d managed to make enough money doing odd jobs between university classes to keep himself out of the streets, but if Wylan didn’t find steady work soon, he’d surely be down on his luck. He hurried down the cobblestone streets until he reached the hotel. The front needed a new paint job and windows were in a serious need of cleaning, but the rooms were in good enough condition. He stepped inside the lobby, which was empty save for a Suli family who waited on the moth-eaten couch and a tall, well-dressed man speaking quietly with the concierge. Trudging up the stairs, Wylan searched for his room number, turning right and then forward. He slid his key into the lock, taking off his jacket as he stepped into his hotel room.

He examined his belongings, anxiously making sure nothing was missing. Earlier in the week, he had experienced a run-in with a maid who had taken a liking to rifle through his belongings, looking through his music notebooks and pockets for spare change. He sighed in relief as he realized none of his belongings were swiped. Wylan could hear horses trotting along the street below him, barkers shouting at passerby and the mumble of conversations over watered-down tea and lumpy rice pudding. He still couldn’t believe he was in London. It felt a lot bigger, even though it was barely big enough to fit a fraction of America. He sat down at the tiny desk in the corner of the room, lit by the setting sun. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating his fiery copper-red hair. Setting his head in his hands, he rubbed his temples, willing the stress of the day to disappear.

He had no idea how he was going to sustain himself for much longer. The funds that his dad had sent him off with were running low, and it would only be a few more weeks until he would be kicked to the streets with only the clothes off his back and a university scholarship, forced to feed himself and fend off the rats and pests that lurked in the dark alleys. According to his calculations, he would be able to afford his room for three weeks if he cut back on his food budget and skipped meals. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the creaky wood chair, the moth-eaten upholstered cushion leaving dust on his nice black pants. Brushing himself off, he collected his school work from his leather bag. Thick leather-bound books and spare pieces of paper stared up at mockingly, the neat font gleaming under the setting sun. Rubbing his eyes, Wylan attempted to make out the words written on the crisp pieces of parchment but gave up after a few tedious moments.

Mind still preoccupied, Wylan grabbed his flute. The cool metal was familiar to his smooth hands, the brass instantly calming his nerves. Grabbing a few sets of sheet music that he had already memorized, he brought his flute to his mouth and began to play.

As the stars twinkled in the midnight blue sky outside his window, Wylan fought to ignore the rumble of his stomach. He had played for hours, taking breaks to try to read the work he was assigned but he quickly gave up; the frustration consumed him as simple words mocked him. He craved a flakey pastry from the bakery he’d passed earlier, but the almost non-existent weight of the money in his pocket reminded him that indulging in such luxuries would not suit him well. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, wondering if he could afford to buy potatoes at the grocer. Deciding to go food shopping tomorrow, Wylan got himself ready for bed, humming under his breath as the crows chirped in the distance.

*** The streets of London were never quiet at night, Wylan had soon realized after his first night at the hotel. The drunken steps of men stumbling out of bars and their loud, slurred voices filled the streets night after night near the gambling halls and pubs while the sound of horses trotting through the cobblestone alleys mixed with quiet sighs of private theatricals. Tonight, Wylan caught wind of a few conversations, most of them noisy neighbors complaining about the prices of tea and whatever was in the paper that morning. Curling up on the window sill, he felt the cool London air blow into his room.

“Brekker said he would be here by now,” mumbled a gruff voice. The voice was coming from a stocky man, leaning against a building with a few companions by his side. The man to his right drawled in a kaelish accent, “Damn that kid. I can’t stand him.” “Did you hear what happened to Thomas today?” a blond man asked, rolling his neck. Fiddling with the pistols at his hips, a Zemini man replied, “Did Brekker con him?” The blond man nodded and replied, “Got ‘em good, too. I heard he got all of Thomas’ inheritance. Didn’t even see it coming.” The group of men continued to converse, loudly complaining about “Brekker”.

Wylan tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to watch the early morning carriages drive across the roads. He watched rats scour the streets below, rotten apple cores littering the darkest corners of the alleyway. A young couple took a stroll along the other side of the street, speaking to each other in earnest. Wylan wondered what that was like. To have someone to tell everything to. Try as he might, Wylan’s father never could seem to get Wylan interested in the town girls. He just didn’t fancy any old girl, right? That had to have been the explanation for his blunt taste in women. They were just so peculiar. He often felt as if he never really liked any of them.

“Damn Brekker, can’t seem to keep his nose outta people’s business,” complained the man with the kaelish accent, snapping Wylan out of his daydreaming, “Do you reckon The Dregs will write something about Thomas?” Wylan knew that The Dregs was a popular newspaper in London, published by Crows Publishing. The Zemini man snorted and replied, “It’s a newspaper and publishing company.” “So? They can’t possibly know everything.” “You would be surprised, and I don’t read their shit. You’re the one reading penny bloods from Crows Publishing.”

Wylan knew about the penny bloods that were taking the country up by a storm. His neighbors often gossiped about them with their friends and family, and his classmates read them at school. They formed clubs where they would read them aloud and catch up on the latest episode. Wylan joined a few of those clubs, enjoying the way the writing sounded and taking note of the masterful ways they were written. The most popular penny bloods were written by a man named Kit Young starring a plot of war- novels and by the sounds of it, they were almost the most popular penny bloods in London, second only to a series of detective penny bloods published by the Dime Lions publishing company. Wylan heard that they told tales of crime and detection in America, but he didn’t find the descriptions as intriguing as the bloods written by Kit Young. Wylan participated in one of the clubs for Mr. Young’s stories and he latched on to every one of his words, but he had to stop going to the clubs as he needed to find work more than participate in leisure. He laughed bitterly as he thought about the war bloods and continued to ponder the on-goings of Crows Publishing.

Wylan had dared to hope that he could potentially be hired at the publishing company. He imagined conversing with his coworkers, and hopefully friends, about the latest stories and articles looking to be published. He imagined laughter spilling out of him and his coworkers and them sharing a mutual love for stories, him hopefully writing successful penny bloods that took the country by a storm. He wondered what he would do if he met Kit Young, and how he would praise the man for writing the stories that kept almost all of London intrigued. He let his imagination roam free until the sun rose over the gray city.

***

Though he was drowsy from his lack of sleep, Wylan tried to pay attention to the lesson his English professor was droning on about. He had yet to read the book assigned and he tried to understand what Professor Williams was saying about the metaphors in the book, but the encounter he witnessed from last night had been playing on repeat. The name “Crows Publishing” stuck out to him and kept nagging in the back of his mind. Wylan got chills down his spine each time he thought about how “Brekker” worked the gang and how disturbingly good he was at getting what he wanted. Doodling on the piece of paper in front of him, Wylan continued to ponder the mystery of Crows Publishing. Professor Williams announced that he would be calling on students, effectively breaking Wylan out of his stupor. Wylan silently prayed that he wouldn’t be called on as his professor scanned the room for participants. Though of course, Professor Williams decided it would be the perfect time to call on him.

Locking eyes with Wylan, his professor said, “Mr. Van Eck, what did you think about the relationship between Victor and his monster?” Wylan gulped nervously, the room feeling awfully hot and stuffy. “I found their relationship, uh, quite intriguing.” Professor Williams raised his eyebrow in expectation, “Anything else, Mr. Van Eck?” “Uh, I thought that Victor treated the monster unfairly and that maybe the author was commenting on the times,” Wylan said, balling his hands into fists. He thanked the lord that Mary Shelley’s work was popular enough for him to have known the plot. His breathing began to get shallow, and he focused on simply breathing in and out to avoid getting too worked up.

Professor Williams sighed, nodded, and called on another student. Wylan felt the eyes of his classmates burning holes into the back of his head. Wylan shifted uncomfortably, digging his fingernails into his sweaty palms. He focused intently on the paper in front of him, fighting the blush creeping up his neck and heating his ears. He silently wished for the floor to open up and devour him; anything would be better than sitting here embarrassed.

As the class ended and students were packing up their belongings, Wylan felt a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him from exiting the classroom. “Van Eck. Hold on,” said Professor Williams. A few moments after all the students had sifted through the door, he leaned against his oak desk, crossing his ankles and watching Wylan intently. Wylan gulped and settled his hands on the strap of his leather bag. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” Wylan said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “In fact, yes, Mr. Van Eck. Your performance in my class has been… less than satisfactory. I am quite aware of your, ahem,” Professor Williams cleared his throat, “difficulties with reading and writing, and I would like to help you.” Wylan looked towards the ground, “I’m sorry, Professor.” “I have a tutor willing to help you. I hope you accept this offer, as I truly think it would help you.” Wylan nodded, “I accept. Thanks.” Professor Williams smiled slightly. “Let me know when you’re available and I will let your tutor know. Don’t worry about the finances, I have it handled.” Wylan walked out the classroom, cheeks hot. His professor was paying for his tutoring sessions, and Wylan couldn’t help feeling useless. He wanted to think that the tutor could help him, but he was too overwhelmed by the fact that another human being had to know about his inability to read and write. Wylan silently decided to somehow find a way to pay his professor back; his search for a job becoming his top priority.

***

Professor Williams had found Wylan a tutor, all right. He was a 19-year-old boy with hints of patchy peach fuzz along his upper lip. His blonde hair was gelled back and he wrote a purple bowtie, rather than the standard university’s blue. Wylan sat down at the library table his tutor, Joost, had found. Joost pulled out an intimidating stack of books and Wylan eyed the stack nervously. “I think we should start with the book Professor Williams assigned to us. Do you have a copy?” Joost asked with a pretentious air in his voice. Wylan smiled, narrowing his eyes. He already disliked Joost.

“I do. It’s required, you know,” he said, the fake smile slathered on his face. If his jab affected Joost in any way, he didn’t show it. Joost eyed Wylan up and down, waiting for him to pull out his book. Wylan gritted his teeth and grabbed it out of his bag. Joost smiled and opened his heavily- dog eared copy. “Let’s start with chapter one. Do you know what happens?” Wylan bit his tongue to stop himself from lashing out at the blonde boy. “I don’t remember.” Joost cleared his throat arrogantly. “Then open your book to chapter one.” Wylan groaned internally as he began his slow descent into hell. He tried to read the words printed on the smooth sheets of paper, attempting to keep up with Joost’s monotone droning. After ‘reading’ the first chapter, Joost looked at Wylan expectantly. “Now, can you finally tell me what happens in this chapter?” Joost looked at Wylan intently, and Wylan dropped his head into his hands, pulling on the strands of his hair. This was clearly not going to work.

*** No matter how well-intending Joost was, he was not the tutor for Wylan. Wylan endured two grueling weeks of his pretentious personality and he couldn’t stand how Joost treated him like the scum under his shoe. Wylan sagged in his seat, pretending to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as Professor Williams directed them to a certain part of the book. He glanced at the pages, scanning the words printed on the cream pages. As the rest of the class went on, Wylan avoided eye-contact with Professor Williams and Joost. He couldn’t stand the way Joost kept glancing at him. Wylan silently hoped that the class would be dismissed quickly.

Professor Williams held Wylan back at the end of class, grabbing his shoulder as he tried walking out of the door. “I take that tutoring with Mr. Van Poel didn’t go well,” his professor said after the students cleared out of the room. Wylan internally rolled his eyes, heat crawling up the back of his neck, “Joost was… fine.” Professor Williams pursed his lips. “I’ll find you another tutor, Wylan.” Wylan nodded, embarrassed of his additional request, and quickly thanked him and sprinted out of the room. As he rushed down the hallway, he felt his spirits deflate. Wylan couldn’t believe he’d already needed a new tutor. He already felt bad enough that his professor was paying for it, and now he’d complained about his old one? In times like these, he thought that maybe it was a good thing he could no longer disgrace the family name.

***

The library he’d agreed to meet up at was on campus, and it stretched a sizable distance. It had a big, arching front doorway and, once inside, beautiful oak shelves lining up the tall ceilings all the way to the back. Wylan held down a shaky breath thinking about the words lining those pages, words that he couldn’t read. It was almost suffocating. There were about fifteen people spread around the library’s common area, including a plump, whiskery little man sitting at the front desk. Wylan shuffled his way over. “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for a- um,” he glanced at the slip with the address and his tutor’s name, a name that he already memorized but he looked at the slip nonetheless, “Jesper Fahey?” “Always great to meet a fan,” called a rich, deep voice behind Wylan. He spun on his heel, coming face to face with a tall man with a rich-umber complexion. The confident expression on his handsome face made Wylan’s heartbeat quicken. “Hi, I’m uh- Wylan Eck Van. Uh- sorry, Wylan Van Eck. I’m assuming you’re Jesper Fahey?” Wylan said, stumbling over his words. “That’s my name,” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows in amusement, “And nice to meet you, Wylan.” Wylan reached his hand out for a handshake, but Jesper started down the hallway, looking for a table to sit at. The whiskery man stared at Jesper and went back to reading, smoking his cigarette when Wylan turned back to him. “Uh- wait up!” Wylan called, dashing to catch up with Jesper. Finding an unoccupied desk in the middle of the library, Jesper sat down, pulling out various books from his worn messenger bag. Wylan sat down, mimicking Jesper’s actions. “So…” Wylan started, glancing around the musty library, “What subject should we start with today?” Jesper looked up from his bag, pulling a textbook out. “I was thinking we could do English. Professor Williams told me you were struggling with the reading assignment?” Jesper confirmed, and Wylan glanced down at his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Clearing his throat, Wylan replied, “Yeah. Something like that.” Jesper gave him a wide smile and said, “It’s fine, Mr. Van Eck. So, how far are you into the book?” “I haven’t- um, I haven’t started it,” Wylan clenched his fists tight, “I can’t read… it. I can’t read.” Jesper’s playful smile dropped just enough for Wylan to feel embarrassment flood over him. “Oh,” Jesper simply said, scrunching his eyebrows, “Well, we can either read it together or I could give you a brief summary. Williams said that we should be at chapter four by now so I highly recommend the summary.” Jesper winked. Wylan took a deep breath and felt the tension leave his body. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

#gvbbcreation20 #gvbb2020 #gvbbfic20 #gvbb #grishaverse big bang #wesper #Jesper Fahey #Wylan Van Eck #six of crows #the grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #the crows #Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #ninej #nina zenik #kuwei yul bo #matthias helvar

[sad-sad-times]

Carlisle Cullen/Charlie Swan - NSFW

A03 fanfic, pretty much just kinky shit but in a human AU where Carlisle is younger than Charlie. Please read, por favor.

Start.

There was one hand, tight in his hair, pulling at his scalp and sending wonderful spikes of pleasure down his body; and another stroking hard at his dick, Charlie's rough, callusesd fingers felt like heaven compared to the smoothness of his skin and when he squeased and massaged the base of his member; it was all Carlisle could do to not to weep in arousal. The combination of the gorgeous friction, with the push and pull of Charlie inside him, Carlisle wanted to push back on him, moan, beg, he just needed more. 

"Ga-uh, fuck" his breathless voice rung out. 

"You like that baby?" The gruffness and deep tone to his voice did so many things to Carlisle's body. The only response he managed was a strangled moan as Charlie's dick thrust up harder against his prostate; the wave of pleasure reverberated up and down his spine and spread out across his groin to make his painfully erect dick pulsate in need. 

His pale body was so open and exposed, the hand in his hair was pulling his neck back so that Carlisle was almost leant on Charlie's shoulder, he had his thighs pinned against the counter and legs spread wide to allow him to take Charlie even deeper inside of him. And God, he was pounding so hard that he feared he would be fucked through the wall. Then Charlie was groaning, deep. "Feels so good" he practically whispered. 

Charlie was just as affected by this as Carlisle, the tight heat clenching around his dick was almost too good, like at all times he was halfway between wanting to push and fuck Carlisle so hard; and wanting to hold back so he didn't finish too early. Also, when he slowed down, Carlisle let out these wonderfully desperate moans for more and that power when straight to Charlie's dick. 

Carlisle's soft voice, elevated with a British twinge, was utterly sinful; and now he was getting close his breath came more ragged, and his speech even more incomprehensible. Even more "oh yeah", "fuck" and "oh Gods" were spewing from his mouth as Charlie picked up the pace again; hammering against the bundle of nerves inside him and gripping hard as he stroked Carlisle's leaking cock.

"Charlie" he breathed out "gonna cu- christ, gonna cum" 

And with that, Charlie pulled away. His hand dropped to his side and his hips stilled so that he was fully inside Carlisle, but stationary. 

"Not yet" he commanded. 

"Bu- hnh. Please" Carlisle moaned as he thrust his ass back towards him. An action that earned him a sharp tug at his hair and caused Charlie to "tsk". 

There was a sliding of skin and a groan as Charlie's hips retreated and he exited Carlisle's body; the hand releasing its grip and going to rest on Carlisle's side. Carlisle was practically flung around so that the two men were face to face, a large hand softly stroked his cheek, "so pretty" the compliment brought a blush to Carlisle's cheeks. 

Where Charlie's hand moved along his face his skin felt alight, he was so aware of every move and sensation and his chest was heaving up and down in a steady rhythm, however; the deliciously painful tug of hair being pulled caused that rhythm to stop and made his breath become ragged and fast. 

Charlie had pulled his head back so far so that his neck was fully exposed and Carlisle was grasping at the surface behind him, Charlie chuckled at the desperation; an extra pull had him weak and weeping for more. Then Charlie leant towards him, Carlisle's eyes were black with arousal, his lips began to press kisses into the side of his neck and up around his ear.

A tight, drawn out moan escaped Carlisle's mouth when he felt a single finger run a line along the underside of his shaft and flick the head upwards.

When the younger man's hips started searching for friction he thrust his thigh between his legs and watched as Carlisle whimpered and moaned breathlessly at the contact; the drag and pull on the surface of his thigh created amazing friction and he could feel his dick twitch and pulse against the bare skin, unfortunately for him Charlie only allowed him to drag himself across his upper leg a few more times, just enough to get him closer to the edge, before pulling his leg back and placing both hands on Carlisle's shoulders and applying subtle pressure. The frustrated groan that left his lips when Charlie pulled away brought a slight smile to the older man's mouth.

Carlisle took the hint and gracefully dropped to his knees in front of him. A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, all the while keeping eye contact with Charlie, who's hands rested one on the base of his skull and the other on his left shoulder; Carlisle got started on sucking down Charlie's thick, hard cock. 

"That's it. Fuck... Good boy" the encouragements tumbled from Charlie's lips whilst Carlisle's worked on taking his cock in and out of his mouth, running his tongue up and down the shaft and lightly grazing his teeth across the skin occasionally.

Carlisle's hands held onto Charlie's thighs as he bobbed his head up and down and tried to take in as much of the 9 inches as he could without gagging. He tightened his lips and swallowed him down, the could hear Charlie's heightened breathing and occasional groan from above him.

Charlie knew he wasnt going to last much longer, and as Carlisle's eager mouth made it incredibly difficult for him to hold off, he stopped trying. 

"Just like that...fuck yeah...christ" a list of expletives and moans alerted Carlisle to the fact that Charlie was near the edge and so worked faster, using his tongue to guide his lips down his shaft and sucked so hard around him. Soon enough the hand that held on to the base of Carlisle's head was pushing him forward and his hips were shaking; he shouted out as he came fast down Carlisle's throat. 

The younger man was soon pulled off his dick and yanked to his feet; before being turned around and bent over. A light slap placed against his ass caused him to gasp and turn red, his body buckled in pleasure from the sting. 

Charlie, upon being extremely pleased with the reaction he got from the other man, slapped him again, with slightly more power, on the other cheek. Carlisle yelped and moaned, his dick was so, so hard and leaking. 

"Hmm, do you like it when I spank you?" Carlisle's face reddened even more, a mixture of lust and embarrassment. He didn't even answer the question, just pushed his ass back slightly closer towards Charlie. 

I'll take that as a yes he said to himself before landing another smack against Carlisle's right cheek, revelling in the choked off moan and red mark it produced. Maybe another time. 

A single finger danced across the crack on Carlisle's ass, dipping slightly towards his little pink hole before pushing inside gradually. Charlie bit back a moan at the feeling, "still wet for me baby" he murmured, half to himself. Before he even realised his finger was pumping in and out Carlisle was whimpering and gasping. Soon another finger joined and the pace at which he was thrusting increased. 

"Tell me where it feels good" he demanded. 

Those fingers crooked upwards and searched for that bundle of nerves and then Carlisle was moaning "there, there there oh my god" 

"Here?" He asked, smirking, before fingering that spot with such vigor that his hand was slowly becoming numb but he didnt care, because Carlisle was moaning and he was touching him. 

Charlie was pushing his fingers in fast, at a really hard pressure against that particular spot and Carlisle felt light headed and high, and Charlie's fingers were menacing. Carlisle went to touch himself but Charlie grabbed both his wrists with his free hand and held them behind his back. 

"No, you're only gonna cum from my fingers" 

The demanding tone to his voice, along with the pressure against his prostate had Carlisle completely debauched and ruined. His hips, however; kept moving forward, humping the air to try and gain friction. 

"Can you do that for me baby? Be a good boy and cum for me" the praises and the pet names, Carlisle was sure he was gonna explode and he was so close, practically dangling off the edge and all he needed was a tiny push and then...

"oh god, unh yeah please dont stop, fuck, yes, gonna cum please" 

...everything went white as stars exploded behind his eyelids, his orgasm hit his entire body and the floor beneath his feet seemed as though it was spinning. 

"Easy easy, you're okay" Charlie's voice, now soft, was barely audible to his ears, his strong arms swept him up and placed Carlisle down on his bed before he planted a kiss on his glistening forehead.

Carlisle awoke with a pleasant ache in his muscles and a glass of water on his nightstand, propt up against said glass was a piece of paper reading:

"Morning. 

Had to go down to the station.

Make sure you get plenty of fluids ;)

C x" 

The young man simply smiled and rolled onto his back. 

End.

Any comments or suggestions are hugely appreciated.

The only thing writers want is feedback lmao.

#twilight #the twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #smut fanfiction #slash #smut fic #human au #au #gay #gay smut

[analyzingdestiel]

DESTIEL REVIEW OF 8X8: HUNTERI HEROICI

__________________________________________________________________________________

SCENE 1

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CASTIEL Excellent. [He raps the car and turns away.] I'll see you there.

DEAN Wait, Cas, Cas! If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine. But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap. Capiche?

CASTIEL Yeah, I capiche.

DEAN All right, then. [He walks to the driver’s door.]

CASTIEL Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat?

DEAN and SAM simultaneously [SAM while shouldering CASTIEL out of the way] No. __________________________________________________________________________________

REVIEW OF SCENE 1

__________________________________________________________________________________

I think it's been made clear by this point that Dean absolutely despises when Castiel disappears. Though he not only despises when he disappears to avoid questioning or to avoid a situation that Dean needs an answer to, or needs his help with, but Dean is even bothered by Castiel disappearing in general, as this scene tells us. There is no reason that Dean should have been so upset about Castiel arriving before them. Perhaps he thought Castiel might ruin it? Or perhaps he was worried about something bad happening to Castiel? I feel, generally, it is related to Dean's sense of a lack of control. __________________________________________________________________________________

SCENE 2

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DEAN All right, well, I'm gonna call it. [He closes the journal he was reading.] Cas, you gonna book a room or what?

CASTIEL No, I'll stay here.

DEAN Oh, okay. Yeah. We'll have a slumber party, braid Sam's hair. Where are you gonna sleep?

CASTIEL I don't sleep.

DEAN Okay, well, I need my four hours, so...

CASTIEL I'll watch over you.

DEAN That's not gonna happen. __________________________________________________________________________________

REVIEW OF SCENE 2

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I see a lot of fans referring to this scene.

We see that Castiel was not willing to leave the two in the room alone. He wanted to stay there with them, and in fact, was planning on watching over Dean as he slept. I don't feel Castiel, himself, views this as erotic. I don't feel it is related to an attraction to Dean, but rather, his desire to protect Dean. It is more related to devotion from Castiel's end than it is related to sex. I feel it is Destiel-related whether his reasons behind it are sexual or not.

Dean, we know, views Castiel's watching him as he sleeps as erotic. He's stated it in 4x3 "What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?" He looks at it as if this is a sexual behavior. This isn't unlike Dean; he often sees things from a sexual point of view -- and very often with Castiel I have come to realize, which is interesting enough in itself.

Why is he relating it to sex, and why does the idea make him so nervous? There is the sense of a lack of confidence, as if Dean is worried about what might happen. He becomes dumbfounded when this sort of thing happens. Would one be nervous if they weren't attracted to that person? Even if the other person made a move, he could simply say "I don't swing that way" and it'd be over and done with. Imagine that Benny was to offer to watch over Dean as he slept. I imagine Dean would react with "thanks man, but I'm all set". I can't imagine Dean reacting with the same nervous energy if Benny had asked. (In fact, Dean's relationship with Benny entirely is different than his relationship with Castiel, who is labeled as another "friend", so I find that interesting. Though I'll get more into that in another review.)

So all in all, Dean's reaction to Castiel's offer seemed to be nervous and he reacted with some hostility. Often Dean reacts to things that make him nervous with hostility; he is not comfortable with feeling vulnerable and is especially fearful around homosexuality in general. It was made clear that this was the reason for Dean's reaction. I can practically hear his thoughts, "oh God, that's gay".

One could take this and look at it as Dean being nervous around homosexuality because he's afraid that he's going to partake in such a thing. Men who are purely heterosexual and confident/comfortable with their sexuality are usually not so nervous about this sort of thing because they realize that, because they are not attracted to the other man, that nothing will happen. And even if something had happened, they realize that the situation could easily be rectified by simply stating "I'm not interested". What is Dean worried about if he is comfortable with his apparent heterosexuality? Dean seems to be fearful that if he does allow such a thing, something might happen.

I feel his reason for the discomfort with Castiel's offer is the same reason that he was fearful of Castiel's proximity in 5x3. If Dean wasn't afraid something might happen, if he was not afraid that he might act on it himself, would he have reacted with such nervous energy? If he was not attracted to Castiel, wouldn't he have simply said "dude, give me space", without the addition of looking from Castiel's eyes, to his lips, before breathlessly stating such a thing? There is the impression that his nerves are stemming from repressed desires.

Again, let's imagine Benny and Dean in a similar situation. Imagine that Benny got closer to Dean than usual and was looking deeply into his eyes. I can't imagine Dean looking from Benny's eyes to his lips and then nervously asking for space. I imagine he'd glance at Benny, perhaps brows creased in confusion, and tell him to back up. There's never any nervous energy when he's with Benny, it's very different than when he's with Castiel.

I would believe this is referred to as "repressed sexual tension".

I cannot say for sure that this is what it is, though this is the impression that I get, and I also wouldn't doubt it because the writers did know the popularity of Destiel at this point and have catered to their fans in the past. Again, as I stated in the previous review, they have to be subtle about it though because some of their fans DON'T like Destiel. So things can be hinted at but it will always be, for the most part, ambiguous. For example, one could say Dean simply reacted this way because he's disturbed and there isn't anything he's repressing. I feel this is something Jensen would have agreed with, though one has to remember that the one who wrote this episode (Paul Edwards) may have had other things in mind that he just did not vocalize.

I feel that the relationship between Dean and Castiel is being played out exactly as is intended and that the sense of attraction and the general feeling that they are based off a romantic couple is deliberate. Those working on the series see it for what it is ("Jeremy Carver gave a note to us — I guess it was a note to Cas, to me — that I was “acting like a jilted lover” with Dean, so there you go."), and so it makes sense that viewers would see it as well.

I could continue to use Dean and Benny's relationship as a comparison because of how it differs despite the fact that both he and Castiel are labeled as Dean's "friends". It really does put things in perspective. __________________________________________________________________________________

SCENE 3

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INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

DEAN is using the laptop at the table. CASTIEL is sitting on one of the beds, looking at John’s journal.

CASTIEL Your father... Beautiful handwriting.

DEAN How you feeling, Cas?

CASTIEL I'm fine.

DEAN Well, I just – I – I know that when... I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to... find my sea legs.

CASTIEL I'm fine.

DEAN Don't get me wrong. I'm – I’m happy you're back. I'm – I’m freaking thrilled. It's just this whole mysterious-resurrection thing – it always has one mother of a downside.

CASTIEL [closes the journal] So, what do you want me to do?

DEAN Maybe take a trip upstairs.

CASTIEL To Heaven?

DEAN Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can't tell us how you got out.

CASTIEL No.

DEAN Look, man, I – I hate those flying-ass monkeys just as much as you do, but –

CASTIEL [forcefully] Dean! I said no!

After a pause, DEAN closes the laptop, walks over and sits on the edge of the other bed, facing CASTIEL.

DEAN Talk to me.

CASTIEL Dean, I... When I was... bad... and I had all those things – the... the leviathans... writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I – I – I can't go back.

DEAN 'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you.

CASTIEL Because if I see what Heaven's become – what I – [sighs] what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself.

SAM enters the room.

SAM Hey. Got something.

CASTIEL Good. [He stands up. DEAN stays sitting on the bed a few moments longer.] Excellent. What? __________________________________________________________________________________

REVIEW OF SCENE 3

__________________________________________________________________________________

We see that Castiel continues to confide in Dean in ways he confides in no other. He reveals things about himself to Dean that he doesn't reveal to others and there is a definite sense of trust. It's been this way since 4x7 when Castiel first told Dean that he "has his doubts". There is a closeness that Dean and Castiel share, that Castiel doesn't share with anyone else. In fact, once Sam arrives, Castiel gives us the impression that he didn't want Sam to have heard him. That in itself is important; Castiel really only truly trusts Dean.

From Dean's end, we see he is still there for Castiel, and is able to help pull him out of himself. Castiel is not one to readily admit to things, especially his vulnerabilities, much like Dean. Dean doesn't express his vulnerabilities readily because of the way he was raised by his father; to be a man, to suck things up, etc. And it's similar with Castiel, who is this way do to what he thought his own "father" (God) wanted/needed him to be. So they can relate in this sense and it's perhaps why, and how, Dean is able to get Castiel to open up to him. __________________________________________________________________________________

RATING AFTER EPISODE: 5/10

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural #8x8 #talk to me

[heatherereyna]

Writers Block? What Chapter 1

Yuuri’s flat seemed smaller than normal as he sat in front of his laptop, open, just staring.  He had no idea where to begin.  Mind blank, not able to come up with one thing to write about, where to begin, putting his hands over his face.  A glass of chardonnay sitting next to him untouched.

 He just barely moved in.  Not knowing anyone.  “What was I thinking” doubting himself for even moving to Paris, leaving figure skating and his favorite roommate behind, well, for now at least.  Looking around the room, pretty much a studio in size, but did have a separate bedroom.  He did not have much.  It was a cute little room though.  The bedroom was small, just enough for his bed, a dresser, and a night stand next to the bed.  The closet, also small.  Good thing he did not have many clothes.  Just off to the bedroom was a very small bathroom, “but how big of a bathroom did he really need” looking over at it.  The living room was right off from the kitchen.  He did wish the kitchen was a bit bigger though as he did like to cook, but it worked.  What he did find pleasing was the build in bookcase right in front of his small table.  He did love to read, and of course, write.  The bookcase did only have a few books, as he was limited to what he could bring with him and only a couple of family photos.  He had left his medals back home in Japan at his family’s ran business, a hot spring resort with a small bar and restaurant.  Looking at the bookcase, he did need to fill the empty space he found himself staring at, it did seem a little bare.  Flats were not cheap, he was lucky to find this one at a reasonable monthly amount.  His eyes drifted over to the window just off to the left side of where his table sat.  He had opened the window, there was a nice breeze outside.  The breeze brought the fresh smell of the flowers below.  His flat was right above the floral shop.   He liked that.  Yuuri loved the smell of flowers, thankfully not allergic.  He would not know what to do if he was allergic.  The floral shop had flowers inside and outside to entice on lookers, hopefully to stop by to pick up a bouquet for their wife, spouse, partner, or simply for themselves to take home.  “That’s what’s missing from the bookcase, a lovely floral arrangement” breathing in the fresh aromas once more, thinking, “he would have to make his way down to the floral shop to get a lovely arrangement.”  Next to the flower shop was a coffee shop.  He had made the mistake of ordering a double espresso early that day.  He felt his heart pulsating, almost wanting to jump out of his chest.  “Stick to the single shots next time” reminding himself.  The coffee shop had a small bakery in it.  Those wonderful smells when he had gone in to get his coffee, oh how they smelled divine!  He wanted one of everything, but just because he was taking a year off, he did not need to get off track as he gained weight easily.  He needed to keep his form in tip top.  Smiling, he actually loved his small flat, just above the floral shop, with the coffee shop and bakery right next door.  “What more could he want right outside his doorstep” he thought.  Now taking a moment to listen to the streets below, bustling with on passers.  The noise did not bother him much.  He liked the noise actually, well, most of the time at least.  It could be somewhat of a distraction, but only sometimes.  He really did enjoy listening to the sounds of people having a really good time.  “Maybe I should start with that” Sighing. 

“Think Yuuri, just think damit” why was this so hard?  He never had this much trouble before.  He was always able to find inspiration.  Being a professional Ice Skater, traveling all over the world, competition after competition.  Ice skating was his first love, plus it was some that he was very good at.  How he found peace in it.  He could be himself, didn’t have to pretend, but that was only when he was by himself of course.  He had always thought he had to pretend for the cameras and media after medaling in competitions though.  They seemed to ask an endless amount of questions that just kept repeating.  He hated the press, dreaded it.  Phichit, the roommate he left behind, was always there to help calm his nerves.  He could rely on him.  Thinking of Phitchit, he was already missing him, such a fun friend, always making Yuuri laugh at his jokes along with his trio of hamsters always by his side.  They came with him everywhere.  Phichit was always coming up with ideas, some were good and some were not so good.  Thinking about it though, he did have more better ideas than bad ones.  They had always been roommates, no use in separating them.  They hit it off from the beginning, not in a sexual way though.  Phichit was not his type.  Pihichit knew that.  Laughing, remembering when Phichit was trying to set him up once, spotting a man that he knew was Yuuri’s type.  “Look at him, pale, blue eyes, over there.  I could wave to him.  Come on Yuuri, Pleeease let me just wave him over here” pleading, and then he waved but not before Yuuri could stop him.  The look on that man’s face showed a look of confusion.  What Yuuri was trying to tell him before he waved was that he did not swing that way.  At that point, Yuuri just laughing at his friend.  Pihichit with a look that read, “oops, at least I tired.  You can’t blame a friend for trying” starring back over at him.  Yuuri’s type, a silver haired man that had to have the most vividly blue eyes that one could melt into, and a voice with an accent.  He had to also be tall and fit.  He had to be able to match Yuuri’s strength and stamina.  This, this would make Yuuri melt in a heartbeat, feel weak in the knees, make his heart flutter.  And it would also make him extremely nervous, unable to make conversation, just a stuttering mess.  He was his own worst person.  This was the first year that they had been apart and Yuuri was starting to feel a little down.  “Take a year off” muttering, “A lot that of good that is doing.” 

 Writing was Yuuri’s second passion.  He never not had his notebook with him, jolting down ideas that came to him.  Places him and Pihichit had been too, sights they saw together.   “Look at me, a total mess, cannot even think of one thing to write” nothing was coming to mind.  “Wondering if this is what he could call writer’s block” thinking.  Taking a slow sip of his white wine, wanting to savor every bit of it.  He liked this wine that was bestowed upon him.  No, he really, really loved it.  He would need to find this winery one day to compliment the Wine Master.  This man knew how to produce wine.  Well, he did not know if this person was a Man or a Woman, but If he had to guess though, he would have to be a Man.  Smirking, satisfied that he came up with that conclusion on his own, now chuckling.  Okay, back to staring at this blank page on his computer that just seemed to be staring back at him, mocking him.  “Think Yuuri, just think” muttering to himself, “ugh, why was this so damn hard?”

 Slowly getting an idea, he began to write…. “The skies above were vividly blue, feeling the sun’s warmth upon his cheeks, just a few cumulus clouds in the sky above.  This was the day he decided to visit that winery he had wanted to, Nikiforov Winery.  He had thought about his visit for days, trying to plan it all out.  What would he see first, the vineyard, perhaps the tasting room” stopping a moment, taking his inspiration from his glass of wine, laughing? 

 Taking another slow sip.  Something was missing, he needed something to pair with the wine.  Getting up, heading over to the kitchen, he knew just what he needed, a few grapes along with a couple slices of cheese.  That sounds about right.  Getting a plate, heading back over to the computer, taking a moment before trying to think of something to write, he wanted to savor the grapes and the cheese in his mouth, together, the flavors bursting.  He never thought about eating grapes and cheese together, not until he had moved to Paris.  What an experience it was in his mouth, following by a sip of the wine.  Now this really bought the flavor of the wine out more, the subtle hints of the fruits. just a tiny hint of spice.  Maybe spice was not the correct word, maybe oak?  Yeah, it had to be a hint of oak he was tasting, it was beyond good.  The wine was not dry and not too sweet, thankfully.  He did not know if he would like a sweet wine.  He only just started drinking wine early that evening.  He normally went for the bubbly, but a single glass of wine was placed before him in a bar he found.

 Going out earlier that night, walking the streets of Paris, seeing more of the small shops that lined up his street, bustling with people going in and out of the business, enjoying themselves with others.  Passing the coffee shop with the bakery, he thought he might go in and opted to stay out.  He was still pretty buzzed from the two shots he had early that morning.  Passing by a two-story bookstore, he would have to make sure to go in there and check it out.  Maybe buying a few more books to add to his collection.  Seeing a small outdoor café just across the way was starting to make him a bit hungry.  Maybe he could find something quick though, not planning to have a sit down.  He could see himself having lunch there though.  “I need to make sure to check this place out tomorrow” making a mental note to himself.  The lights lining the streets were giving off a soft glow, setting the perfect mood for an evening stroll.  Passing a park, stopping to watch people with their dogs, playing catch.  That made him really want to get a dog.  He should try to get a dog.  He loved dogs.  Poodles to be exact.  Wonder if the landlord would allow a poodle in the flat.  He would need to remember to ask.  “What a nice stroll he was having” thinking, but becoming a bit sad.  “This would have been even better hand in hand with his Prince he so wanted to find here in Paris” definitely feeling a bit alone now. 

 He was in Paris after all.  “Wasn’t Paris Love” sighing?  Continuing his leisure stroll, he heard music playing just down the street, wandering toward that direction.  Yuuri wanted to know where this music was coming from.  Maybe that would lighten his spirits.  Turning the corner, he saw what to be a busy bar full of people.  “Well, this would be a start Yuuri” going in.  The music he heard was jazz.  He liked jazz.  Jazz and a piano, not necessary at the same time, he could listen to them for hours.  They always seemed to tell a story.  He liked that.  The blend of the jazz instruments, the keys of a piano being played.  He could get lost in that kind of music.  He also liked to ice skate to jazz or a piano tune.  He could forget where he was at, just him, the ice, and the music.  That was just fine with him.  “Laughing out loud” he preferred it that way, to skate alone.  But he did know he was good and good brought in money much needed sponsors.  Looking past the bar to the left, he did notice a piano up towards the front, but no once was playing.  Wondering if the piano was just for looks or if it really did get played.  “It must get played” looking over it, because there was a mic off to the side of the piano.  He wondered who and when they played.  He would have to ask the bartender when the piano was played.  It would be nice to just sit and listen to whoever played.  Walking over to the bar, ordering a glass of bubbly, thanking the bartender.  Just imagining what the singer looked like?  Did he sing?  Was it in French?  Assuming that he was a he.  Was he Yuuri’s Prince?  He could dream, couldn’t he?  “Nothing wrong with that” smiling to himself.  He barley understood let alone spoke French, but it was the language of love and was also so very seductive.  He was trying to learn French, but it was not coming along so well.  He always had to have his phone with him, at all times, as this was his translator, he called it.  He would not know what he would do without it.  It had been a life saver more than a few times.  Turning around to the crowd, watching.  He also found that watching people could be very intriguing.  He found some inspirations in that a couple of times.  “Why did I not bring my notebook” sighing, “maybe next time.”  He liked this place.  Turning back around, wanting to ask the bartender the schedule of the in-house music, but what he did see was not the bartender in front of him, but a glass wine sitting next to his near empty glass of bubbly.  Very surprised to find this in front of him.  Blushing, feeling his cheeks get a light shade of pink, expecting to gaze up upon his Prince, he found no one.  Looking around hurriedly, trying to find who might be looking his way, again, found no one looking at him.  Everyone was already enthralled with someone else.  Trying to call the bartender over, asking as best he could about who had bought him that glass of wine, but the bartender just threw up his hands in the air. Yurri did not know if that was stating that he did not know or did not understand, either way, that was his first experience with wine.  It was nice.

 Sitting there for a moment longer, still trying to see if anyone was glancing his way, wanting to make eye contact.  Nope.  Yuuri so desperately wanted to know who it was that had set that wine down in front of him.  Was he so busy watching others around him?  “Oh No” eyes wide, hoping that he had not ignored someone that actually wanted to talk to him.  He was not used to that, others wanting to make conversation with him.  He could be a bit clumsy, shy, not being able to make the words come out of his mouth, mostly just mumbles.  Phichit seemed to be the only one that he could really talk too.  Feeling his heart now racing, his face getting hotter.  “Breath Yuuri, just breath” telling himself.  But someone, someone wanted to actually talk with him and he just completely might have ignored that person, maybe not even hearing them trying to say hello or hi or however one may say something sexy in French.  Feeling now utterly embarrassed, “Maybe I won’t be coming back to this bar after all” finishing up the glass of wine, now just wanting to leave, far too embarrassed to want to stay.

 After leaving the bar, walking along the streets, trying to remember where he was compared to where his flat was, he had not a clue.  Yuuri was really not good with direction, he often got himself lost.  He should have paid more attention while out on his stroll so he could have remembered where his flat was.  This was the last thing he wanted to do, was to get lost.  He did spot a local wine shop across the street, debating on going in or not.  “Yeah, why not” thinking just that, he was going to go in and buy himself a bottle to drown his sorrows.  For he was feeling he had missed the chance back in the bar of meeting his Prince.  Mind starting to wonder with dirty thoughts now.  “Stop Yuuri, don’t go there” knowing if that really happened you would be fumbling of what to say.  His face getting back to that near dark shade of red.  Walking in, he never imagined there would be so many choices.  So, So many choices.  Just walking up and down the aisles started to overwhelm him just starring at all the choices.  He did not know how to rate wine, what was good, what was bad, red, white, even a blush.  He did not want to make a bad choice as he just had the most pleasant glass in the bar and he wanted to keep it that way.

 Looking over, seeing someone walking towards him, blonde, tall, little bit of a curl in his hair, not quite his type, actually, not his type at all.  Feeling his nerves creep in, “Please God, don’t let him flirt with me.  Not now.  Don’t make this awkward” as Yuuri was already feeling awkward himself.  Yuuri did have to admit that he was not bad looking, well, pretty good looking actually, but in his state, it would take a lot of drinking before Yuuri got comfortable to even flirt back or perhaps go even further.  “Now that would be something to write about” a sly smile crept up, but along with his awkwardness.  “Oh God” hoping his thoughts were to himself.  He did have a very bad habit of saying things out loud and it has gotten him into a bit of trouble in the past.  “Cherie, your cute.  I have not seen the likes of you around here but you do look a bit familiar.  Have me met before or was I too Damn drunk to remember?  I’m assuming too drunk because with an ass like yours, I would have definitely remembered” spoken with such a sexy French accent.  “Oh God, he just made this awkward.  I think I am just going to run and hide under a rock and just die” Yuuri’s face most likely put out the deepest of red he could think of.  He pretty much knew it did by how hot his cheeks were feeling.  He was not very good at flirting.  He was also hopping this very Gay, French man before him did not notice.  “Adorable” as he was smiling at Yuuri.   “Uh, ummm, wait a minute, maybe this was the guy who put that wine in front of him and had been following him on his way back to his flat” muttering to himself.   “What did you just say” looking at the man before him.  He definitely was not used to this, guys just hitting on him.  “Just run, run right out here.  Yeah, like that would really work.  Just play it cool” Yurri thought.  “I see you are having a bit of trouble choosing what wine to buy.  Let me make your choice a bit easier.  It’s so obvious you don’t know the first thing about wine Cherie” smiling, “my name is Christophe, but you can just call me Chris” speaking in the most seductive way he knew how too.  “Uh, Thank You” is all Yuuri could stammer.  Not really wanting to entice this stranger in front of him.  Dirty, impure thoughts racing thru him. “Oh no, no, no, no, no” just stop it Yuuri.  Chris, walking him over to a selection of whites, stopping him toward the back end of the aisle.  Picking up the bottle and without hesitation, handing it over to Yuuri who just seem to be starring.  “This one” another sly smile.  “Take this one.  I think you will rather enjoy it” just looking at him, maybe a little bit too much.  Yuuri was horny, it had been sometime and he was wanting to seriously get fucked and Chris looked like he could just do that in the most, dirty way.   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no once again” his mind was racing.  Maybe I should get his number, that would be better.  With that, he heard someone yell out to him from the outside, he could not see who it was and already embarrassed, he did not want to add another person in the mix.  “Chris, stop flirting with whomever you have hostage in there and come back out, Yes.  We have somewhere we are to be, OK.  You do remember the special engagement we have to go to?  Right?”  His accent, he could not place it thought Yuuri, but it was heaven and he wanted more.   Yuuri was starting to melt, maybe he should try to get a look at this man to see who he is, and with that, he heard Chris, “Any who, I hope that you are not drinking this all alone.  If you frequent this place, maybe we’ll meet again Cherie and I can stare at that ass a bit longer, till then.”   Bewildered, “I am going to need a cold shower when I get home.  A really long cold shower.”  What had just happened?”

  Staring at the bottle, it was gorgeous.  The label looked so finely done, what looked like a castle with gold specks, it almost seemed to glimmer when he turned the bottle in his hands.  “Nikiforov Winery.  It stated.  Was that Russian, sounded Russian?”  Yuuri never heard of this place.  Of course not, he just moved to Paris.  This is something he will have to look up when he gets back to his flat, that is, if he can find his way back and after a very long cold shower.  Heading up to the counter to make his purchase, he realized he did not have any wine glasses back at his flat.  Asking the lovely lady behind the register if they perhaps sold wine glasses?  “They are right over there” she exclaimed behind him.  They actually had a few different types, some a bit fancy for his taste.  Ones even made with crystal and with a gold rim.  He only needed a simple one.  He took the two simple wine glasses up to the front, ready to pay for his purchase

 Getting directions, he started to head back to his flat wanting to try this bottle out that was so graciously bestowed upon him.  Hoping that Chris was right in making this choice.  Wanting to start his new book, not on Ice Skating and the adventures he had, but on something else.  The new adventures that waited upon him here in Paris.  Now what the new adventures were, well, that is something that he would have to think about that.

 His mind wondered as he headed back to his flat.  Wondering about his family in Japan.  When he had mentioned to them that he wanted to go live in Paris for a year, get some inspiration.   He wanted to take a break from Ice Skating.  Only a year.  His second passion, was after all, was writing.  He parents understood that he needed to have some time off.  They could see the pressure getting to him.  They told him to be safe, but have fun, too make sure that he kept in contact, write, and send lots of pictures.  They did not like to see him unhappy.  He had always been a quite person, not around Pihchit though.  He was always comfortable around him.  Telling him everything.  He wished Pihchit would be able to get some free time to make a visit out to Paris.  He would like the flat Yuuri was living in.  Reliving mishaps, laughing, drinking, seeing the sights.  Oh, Pihchit would love Paris, he already knew this.  Besides Ice Skating, that was other thing Pihchit was good at, taking selfies, and did he have a lot of them, his twitter account bursting with them.  His camera or phone always at hand.  Thinking about all this, he was kind of missing home and skating.  He was already told by a local coach that he could use the training rink anytime.  He needed to actually, maybe for a few hours tomorrow morning.  Yuuri normally was awake before dawn would even start to show.  He was used to getting up early, practice always begin right before dawn.  He got used it, getting up that early.  Something that just stuck with him.  He could not let himself go, hence needing to make sure that he did, in fact, get practice in.  Ice skaters always needed to stay in top form.  But he did need this break from the competitions.  He could not imagine what it would be like if he did not take the year off.  He wondered if he would begin to hate ice skating.  “Could he really” considering, “no, not ice skating, but the competitions.”  He had a couple golds, a few silvers, a few bronzes, and a few more close thirds.  More than he wanted to admit.  He was starting to make a few more mistakes than normal, not being able to concentrate as much.  Coming late to practice, leaving early.  Making excuses.  He did not mean too.  It was just starting to become less fun and he hated that he felt that way.  Even Pihchit saw it.  This was actually his idea.  Pihciht told him to get away for a year.  Have some fun.  Meet someone.  He always told Yuuri that his Prince would be found in Paris.  “Wondering if had already missed that opportunity earlier at the bar” sighing deeply.  He hoped not. 

 Maybe he would go back to that bar.  Maybe he would find that Prince Charming that he so wanted to find in Paris.  He had found himself in a few bad relationships.  Pihchit always told him that he deserved some one that would treat him like royalty.  Only seeing Yuuri for Yuuri.  Not wandering eyes like his past few relations had been.  Their eyes would always wonder and cheat.  Yuuri would put blame on himself, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong.  With his low self-confidence that he sometimes felt he had, he had not known how he was supposed to be around his boyfriends, he had always put the blame upon himself.  He also found himself inadequate in the bedroom, at least that what was told by his past boyfriends.  That was always a low blow.  Definitely did not help with the already low self-confidence.  So how was it that a French guy was flirting with him?  What was it that this French man saw in him?  Pihchit told him that it was all bullshit, what his past boyfriends said to him.  They were duchebags.  They did not deserve the Yuuri Katsuki.  They were only selfish of themselves and that Yuuri had so much more to offer, he just needed to find him his Prince.  Even know he was always doubting himself.  He wondered if he would ever find love, even in Paris.  But there was that person who set that wine in front of him.  That missed opportunity kept coming back to him.  He never once considered that it could have been a woman.  At least he was hoping that it was not.  I mean, it was hard to miss him being gay.  Well, most, women already know that he knew he was Gay.  He never really hid it, but he was not shouting it out either, with all the media.  He had been just a little worried about what his parents would think.  They actually told him they knew before he did.  “He always seemed way more awkward around girls that wanted to date him, that would actually ask him out.  Thankfully, most of the time Pihchit was there to save him.  Pihchit would tell him it was because of his Thunder Thighs, both of them would start to laugh.  Being that he practiced so much and was pretty much known for his stamina, he got the nickname, Thighs of Thunder.   Just thinking about it was making him laugh now.  Than when he did start to date men, the media went into a frenzy, as if they did not already know, go figure.  Than the whole world knew.  Knew that Yuuri Katuski was Gay.  That was something to take in and a bit much, only in the beginning though.  It was a relief after the media started to die down and new scandals came about.  He was able to be more himself now.  “Wow, already outside his flat” mind still wondering. 

 Sitting back in his chair, trying to remember what it was he was doing, lost in his thoughts of what an interesting evening he just had.  “Oh Yeah, writing.”  He mused.  “What would he see first, the vineyard, perhaps the tasting room?  Maybe the cellar, if permitted?”  Oh, how he would love to see where the wine was made, the process.  That would be something special.  “Wonder if they permitted that?”  His eyes wide in thought.  “Was he writing a book or was he planning his next sight- seeing adventure” he chuckled.  “Maybe a bit of both” taking another mouthful of grapes and cheese followed by a long sip of wine, letting the flavor sit in his mouth just a moment longer before swallowing.  “Hmmm, I do need to see about going to this winery and meeting this Nikiforovo fellow” Yuuri smiling to himself, knowing a last name like that had to be, a man of more than good taste.  Curious, he needed to look up this winery.  Maybe there would be a picture of Man behind the wine.  At least he was hoping.  He could hope, couldn’t he. 

 Googling the winery, there were photos.  Photos of a women in red hair, she was cute in her own way.  Photos of a younger man, blonde hair, a bit angry looking.  Did not look like he wanted pictures taken of himself.  “That can’t be the mystery man” he hoped.  Pictures of an older, angry guy and older, angry lady next to him.  He could see the resemblance of the same scowl’s in the younger man.  Putting a hand over his mouth from keeping the loud laughter inside.  “Oh, these are too good” still laughing.  Scrolling some more, a few other men, one with darker hair, looked to be somewhat shaved on the sides and another one of who looked to be about just a little older than the angry one, he had blondish hair with red.  What a group.  A little disappointed though, because he thought that maybe his Prince Charming would be somewhere in the pictures but he saw such no one.  

[unexpectedreylo]

Bendemption Song Part 2:  The Villain’s Redemption Arc/The Anti-Hero’s Journey

First, we have to ask:  what kind of redemption arc is Ben getting?  Mythcreants.com lists three kinds:  sacrifice, temptation, and forgiveness.  

A sacrifice arc is one where the redeemed villain does something good and ultimately sacrifices his/her life because of the gravity of the villain’s crimes.  Darth Vader is given as an example:  Vader kills Darth Sidious to save Luke, but in the process is mortally wounded.  I would sort of put Gollum in this category and maybe Severus Snape too.  In Ben’s case, a sacrifice arc is possible.  I know those of us in Reylo-land don’t want to think about it, but I wouldn’t say it’s totally off the table.  But to make you all feel better, I think there are problems with a sacrifice arc in this situation.  Of all of the potential redemption arcs to use, this one is the easiest because it just repeats what was done in ROTJ.  And “easy” usually carries the least amount of payoff.  Two, it’s debatable whether Kylo’s crimes are so great, he cannot be allowed to survive.  Fans who want revenge for Han’s death might have one view, Reylos might have another.  It’s apparent though that Kylo’s rap sheet isn’t as long as his grandfather’s and Kylo is already showing far more remorse, regret, and conflict than Vader ever did.  It’s also clear that Kylo was victimized as a youngster in a way Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker never was.  Palpatine was a manipulator but he used flattery and kindness to snare Anakin while what Snoke did went back to when Ben was a fetus and it’s clear it wasn’t all “nice.”  Three, it would collide with some narrative brick walls I will discuss in the third part of my Bendemption Song series.

The temptation arc and the forgiveness arc could end with the death of the character, but unlike the sacrifice arc, these two arcs also allow for the possibility of the character’s survival.  Kylo’s arc could follow either one.  

The temptation arc is where the character feels pulled to the good side as well as the bad and is in a battle to decide where he falls.  Zuko from “Avatar:  The Last Airbender” and Spike from “Buffy The Vampire Slayer” are given as examples.  Kylo’s line in TFA, “I feel it again, the pull to the light,” signals his own struggle.  He’s always being described as “conflicted.”  I think this arc is a really good fit for him for this reason.  If this is the route they go in IX, ultimately he will choose “the light,” or at least reject the dominance of the dark side over his entire personality.  He will learn to integrate his shadow self, to use a Jungian term, and recognize the light side aspects of his personality are a strength, not a weakness.  

The forgiveness arc is where the character has already forsworn villainy but has blood on his hands.  Furiosa from “Mad Max:  Fury Road” is given as an example.  I would add Bucky Barnes and Loki from the Marvel Cinematic Universe as further examples.  Most of what they are doing is trying to make up for past crimes, earning the trust and forgiveness of others, and reaching the point where they can forgive themselves.  Had Kylo turned in TLJ, this would’ve been his arc for sure in IX.  It’s still possible, but it would depend on how soon he turns.  If it’s early in the movie, then a forgiveness arc might happen.  If it’s in the second or third act in the film, then it’s too late for a forgiveness arc to occur and it will likely be a temptation or sacrifice arc instead.

When the writer has chosen the arc for the villain, there are certain things the writer must do to establish redemption.

The anti-hero is at first presented as purely villainous.

TFA largely shows Kylo Ren The Villain Who Does Bad Stuff.  He kicks off the movie by killing Lor San Tekka, taking Poe prisoner and torturing him, and ordering his troops to burn down a village.  He kidnaps Rey and attempts to enter her mind.  He is shown later on as conflicted but he works up the nerve to kill off Dear Old Dad, then he fights Finn and Rey.

The anti-hero is humanized, often through a tragic backstory or showing they have good intentions.

Basically, everything that happens in TLJ.  Kylo discards his mask and humanizes himself to Rey and by extension to us.  The books reveal Snoke had been messing with Ben since he was in the womb.  We learn of the tragic murder Luke almost commits, which turned Ben Solo into Kylo Ren.  

 Start Dropping Hints

 This has already happened in TFA and TLJ.  Hints include Kylo’s perpetual conflict, his less-than-enthusiastic reaction to committing Han-icide, his refusal to kill his mother, his lack of enthusiasm for blowing up planets, his bouts of gentleness/empathy/compassion for Rey, etc..  If you want an early sign in IX that Bendemption is going to happen, keep an eye out in the first act for the “Supreme Leader” to do something uncharacteristic for an evil despot.  He might refuse to commit an atrocity against innocents, he might save a group of children (to counterpoint Anakin’s Great Youngling Massacre), or he might start to question the whole enterprise of the war.  Perhaps he always makes sure Rey and her friends escape the First Order.  Maybe he’ll be a “Fulcrum!”  You never know.

Introduce A Good Influence

 Obviously, that’s Rey.  She can’t pick him up and drag him from the Dark Side, as she learned the hard way in TLJ, but she shows him just as she doesn’t have to live in anger, hurt, resentment, and fear, neither does he.  She offers him forgiveness and the possibility of life beyond and better than what he has.  If there’s any incentive at all for Kylo to change, it’s her.  

You might have noticed these movies seem to be big on “girl power.”  It’s as though the power of the feminine—all but destroyed by the end of the prequels, corrupted in the “Solo” era, and missing but for a few key figures in the original trilogy—is making a roaring comeback in the sequels.  You might also have noticed that Kylo has a big problem with male authority figures (Han, Snoke, Luke) and male rivals (Hux, to some degree Finn).  Yet who is the one relative to escape his wrath?  His mother.  Who does he finally open himself up to?  Rey.  This tells me Kylo is receptive to the power of the feminine and it’s likely his maternal ties and his deep connection with a woman will play an important part in his redemption.  

I believe the original plan for IX was for Kylo to atone with his mother and this part of the story is so fundamental, there was no way to get around it ergo they are going to use footage of Carrie Fisher shot for TFA and TLJ.  How they’ll use it is still a mystery.  We’ll just have to see.

Less obvious is another good influence, and that’s Han Solo.  Not only is Han genetically encoded in Kylo anyway, Han’s actions at the end of their encounter left an indelible mark on him in both a negative and a positive way.  I think we’ll see the true beginning of his turn was at that moment; in fact it’s obvious from watching TFA Kylo almost left with his father.

Subtle Shift In Loyalty/The anti-hero goes through a phase of internal conflict, or their inner conflict is revealed/amplified.  This is when he is waffling between good and evil./This internal conflict drives him toward Team Good.

While Kylo shows no inclination yet to join the Resistance, his loyalty in TLJ shifts from Snoke to Rey.  It’s as close to Team Good as he has gotten in this trilogy so far.  Of course, the shift wavers and he retreats to lead Team Evil.  But his connection to and feelings for Rey remain, as demonstrated in his last scene in TLJ.  This gives us hope for IX.

The anti-hero isn’t ready to be redeemed and he falls back toward Team Evil.  This is often due to their own desires or temptations of another character.  This usually involves a betrayal.  The betrayal leads to them achieving a goal they had become evil in the first place to obtain.

Kylo doesn’t betray anyone besides Snoke but he decides he’d rather be Supreme Leader than be the Resistance’s new lightsaber-swinging hero, which breaks poor Rey’s heart. 

Villain Becomes Unhappy With Team Evil/The anti-hero realizes he made a mistake.  The goal isn’t what he wanted after all or it backfires on him.

Kylo’s going to find that heavy is the head that wears the crown, isolated and having to watch his back at all times.  I don’t see Kylo as an ideologue as I see him as using the First Order to get back at his family and their value system and latching onto Snoke because he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere else.  In IX, that family will be mostly gone and Snoke’s dead.  The only things holding Kylo to the First Order would likely be his desire for power and control, despair, guilt, and fear of being on his own.  But even those may not be enough.  Kylo could question further the First Order’s goals and methods.  In addition, I predict Hux will stage a coup against Kylo by turning the First Order’s leaders and money guys, and possibly even the Knights of Ren, against him.

This realization leads him to repent and seek to fight for Team Good.

I think he will likely approach Rey first and once she indicates she is willing to forgive him, he will come to fight alongside her.  

The Villain Must Stop A Great Evil And Make A Great Sacrifice

While a new, hitherto unknown threat could be the great evil in IX, I doubt they will introduce one this late in the game.  Likely the great evil will be the First Order or something connected to it.  

Dave Filoni said during The Clone Wars panel at SDCC 2018 the true conflict in Star Wars was between selfishness and selflessness.  In order to be redeemed, Kylo MUST do something selfless.  It will likely be something very risky to life and limb to correct his error and stop the First Order.  The greater the error, the greater the potential sacrifice will be.  I will stress that a willingness to sacrifice your life isn’t an automatic death sentence in film and literature.

It will show tremendous growth if he is also willing to sacrifice the possibility of a life with Rey.  As Yoda said in ROTS, you must let go of everything you fear to lose. Think back to how possessive Anakin was with Padmé in ROTS (“you will not take her from me”) versus how Han Solo was willing to let Leia choose Luke, not knowing they’re twins, if that’s what would make her happy.  I could see Kylo letting Rey choose another, if anyone, if that’s what she wanted or asking Finn or Poe to take care of her if something were to happen to him. 

A willingness to abdicate power, wealth, and status are great sacrifices as well.  So is a willingness to completely change your value system and goals.  I think Ben will do all of the above.  

The Villain Must Show Remorse

In Ben’s case, this is VERY important.  I think one reason why some fans are very unforgiving of him is because they don’t think he yet shows sufficient remorse. Regardless, the audience has to believe his turn is sincere by witnessing him acknowledge his misdeeds and express mourning, sorrow, and regret for committing them.  The signs are there in TLJ and TFA but we need to see more.  I’m talking about big ugly sobbing here.  At the same time, he cannot wallow for long in despair and guilt or else he’ll be at best worthless and at worst, he can be drawn back to the Dark Side.  He can’t punish himself by refusing forgiveness, kindness, or mercy.  Showing remorse has to be cathartic, it cannot be a perpetual state of existence.   

I predict that a significant part of IX will be about Ben integrating his shadow self, Kylo.  How will he do this?  He needs to release his anger, resentment, and hurt instead of clinging to them like a security blanket.  He has to forgive those who have hurt him:  Luke, his parents, Rey, even Snoke.  Most importantly, he has to forgive himself.  Once he has done these things, he can finally be in control of his emotions, letting himself feel freely but without being overtaken by them.

The villain finds direction, a problem in need of solving; humbles himself

For a character like Ben, this probably means taking on an insane, undoubtedly suicidal mission on behalf of Team Good, providing insider information on Team Evil, and of course putting his Force-skills—likely in conjunction with Rey’s—to work.  He won’t do it expecting thanks; this is to prove his worth, earn trust, and of course, attempt in some way to make up for what he has done.

The villain is forgiven 

Rey will happily forgive Ben if he decides to side with her.  It seems she has already forgiven him for his pre-TLJ crimes and will forgive him again when the time comes.  The question is whether anyone else will.  Leia, if she’s alive by that time, definitely.  I think Chewie will come around and when he reconciles with Ben, there won’t be a dry eye in the theater.  It’ll be a big moment if/when Ben reclaims everything that had once been his or should’ve been his:  a relationship with Chewie, the Falcon, Artoo and Threepio, his mother’s cause, etc..  

Would Finn forgive Ben?  Maybe, especially if it’s for Rey’s sake.  Poe would be a hard sell.  Kylo Ren had brutally tortured him and he’s not likely to just forget all about it.  On top of that, he’s a True Believer.  I can see him being very skeptical of Ben turning and not exactly willing to let bygones be bygones.  But that’s okay.  Not everyone needs to forgive Ben by the time the credits roll.

And then what?

The very end of the arc is the question of whether the redeemed villain lives or dies.  I will answer that question in the next part, “Live Or Let Die.”

Check out Part One if you haven’t already!

#reylo #reylo fam #meta #kylo ren #ben solo #redemption #bendemption #episode ix

[kpopboysreact]

Ghost - a Min Yoongi Scenario Pt. 1

Read Part 0 here And check out my masterlist! ❤️ Words: 2,609

Note before reading: R1 is an app that allows rappers who either never made it or never tried put their material out there. Yoongi’s had a profile for years. He doesn’t write much, but he follows a lot of users he claims are hidden gems. Most of his writings are raps responding to WAV3’s music, your music. The app is fairly stigmatised, as a lot of underground rappers use it to criticise society and speak ugly truths. Also, I italicise internal dialogue if you haven’t seen it before 😘

Preface

His eyes burned as he frantically scrolled on his phone, desperate for an answer. Not this one. Yoongi sighed and left the tab, searching for another. Don't these people have lives? The jarring pound on his studio door jolted Yoongi out of his mesmerised state. He didn't answer, rubbing his eyes and returning to his phone. He heard the lock click and the door push open, but pretended he didn't. “Hyung.” Namjoon approached, looking over Yoongi’s shoulder. “R1?” He squinted to read the tiny words on the phone better. “Why are you on R1?” Yoongi looked up idly. “So many people claiming to be WAV3′s ghostwriter. It’s bullshit.” “Do you really think the ghostwriter would reveal themselves, though?” “Well if they do, it'll be on R1.” Yoongi found another, a profile promising to be WAV3′s ghostwriter. He read some of their work and scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Earlier

“What does this mean for me?” You asked your CEO, fear in your tone. It’s not like any of you wanted the world to find out about WAV3′s ghostwriter. Just some disgruntled ex-employee had the nerve to out your company’s biggest secret. “You’ll keep writing.” He replied, as though it were obvious. You sighed in relief, thankful to still have a job. “But I expect you to continue to keep your identity a secret.” Your chest tightened. “Is there really a point for that anymore, though?” “Everyone is talking about this scandal. Do you know how good that’s been for WAV3′s music on the charts?” You could hear a subtle hint of annoyance in his response. “...I see.” You mumbled. “Thank you.” “Keep up the good work, y/n.” He stated flatly. You could picture the fake, toothy smile on his face you’ve grown all too used to, and hung up. May was resting in the other room, so rather than yelling out your frustrations, you sat on the cold, tile floor of the bathroom, letting the sink run quietly so you didn't face the anonymity of silence. Rather, you faced the anonymity of identity. You pulled your knees against your chest and thought. Sure, the house was comfortable, safe. Sure, the food was good, nutritious. But the bags under your eyes weighed your whole body down. The cracks adorning your knuckles stung and bled from the constant busking. Maybe, just maybe, you could make enough money to one day leave this place, reclaim your life as your own, and finally tell your story to the world as you; not some ghost writer. Maybe...but not today. Today, you were just another one of the 7 billion people in the world, nameless. Your phone buzzed. You hated that expensive piece of metal. All the money you made from the extra busking went to buying it. A necessity, your CEO needed to keep in touch with you. It would've been nice if he felt the need to pay for it, too. Disheartenedly, you checked the notification. Couldn’t he let me have five seconds to myself? Your CEO wanted you in now to show him new material. Back to work.

Yoongi didn't bother to get up this time. He'd fallen yet again during rehearsal, but not during the same part of the song as the time before...or the time before that. “Yah, what’s with you today?” Jin poked Yoongi’s side as he stood, glaring back at his hung. “I’m distracted.” “Let’s take a break, okay? Good job, guys.” The boys all bowed to their leader and filed out of the practice room one by one to get water, all except for Yoongi. Namjoon waited until everyone left before speaking again. “Are you okay?” “Hungry.” Yoongi mumbled. “We can go eat later. Maybe once you've made it through one dance without tripping, stumbling, or falling out of synch with the rest of us. Yoongi locked his jaw. “I understand you're upset, hung. But this shouldn't be affecting you so harshly.” “You don't know a thing.” Yoongi spat back. “Maybe I don't. But I do know that you're okay. You're not hurt. Your life is going on just fine. It’s just an anonymous writer!” “Just an...” Yoongi chuckled, thinking back to the journal that he used to covet. The journal of you. Though destroyed, the thought of it brought him peace. The thought of you, the you that put raw emotion into your music. No, he didn't know you. But he knew you. And he felt like you knew him, too. “Just an anonymous writer. Right. Sorry. Let’s get back to rehearsing.”

Present

You sat in the lobby playing on your phone looks like it’s actually good for something and waited. You were getting more used to this treatment, sadly. When you’d first joined the company, you were treated like a precious diamond. Now…it’s as if the diamond never transitioned from the coal. It was kind of frustrating hearing people come by, check in at the front desk, and be helped right away. But hey, it’s not like you had anywhere to be. You looked up from your phone and nodded your head in a quick but polite bow at the man sitting down next to you. He did the same, and smiled. You returned back to your phone, but were distracted by him addressing you a few minutes later.

“Busy day today, yeah?”

“It always is in this industry.” “Yeah.” More time passed before he continued speaking. “What do you do here?” “I work in PR.” You replied. That was the lie your CEO had decided on for you, should you run into a situation that required one. “You?” You looked over the man, assuming he was a trainee or something from his looks.

“I actually don’t work here, I’m part of another company.”

“Oh!” You turned off your phone, now curious. I’ve missed having a genuine human conversation about something other than my damned company. “Which company?” “A small one called BigHit.” BigHit…that sounded familiar. “Oh shoot…” Now that he mentioned it, he kind of looks familiar, too… “Are you a member of BTS?” “Yeah! You’re a fan?” “I uh-my friend is. Could I get you to sign something? Sorry! I know you probably don’t want to, just she-“ “I wouldn’t mind at all. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Mina…” You rummaged through your bag, thankfully finding a receipt from one thing or another, and handed it to him. He took a pen from the table in front of you and you watched as he wrote a little message with neat handwriting. “RM?” You questioned, looking at how he finished the signature. “What does that stand for?” “Real Me.” “Real Me…then, who is the real you?” Namjoon chuckled. “I don’t really know how to answer that question. If you listen to my music, maybe you’ll find out.” “I feel the same way.” Namjoon looked at you, a little puzzled. “Oh, I write music sometimes, too.” “You do?” He smiled and you noticed his dimples. Wow he’s cute.

“Only sometimes. Nothing ever really good.”

“Aw come on, I doubt that.” “No really, you’d be shocked.” Namjoon chuckled. “Do you have an R1 profile?” “Yeah…but it’s really not good.” “Well maybe I could check you out? Maybe that would help me see the real you.” You felt yourself blush and just hoped it wasn’t obvious. “I guess…” Namjoon handed you his phone and you pulled up the R1 app…and couldn’t help but let out a faint gasp seeing his recent search results. “Is everything okay?” “Y-yeah, fine…you’re interested in WAV3’s ghostwriter?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here, actually. One of my members is a little obsessed with finding out his, her, or their identity. It’s affecting his work and, as his leader, it’s my responsibility to help him out. I was hoping to have a word with someone who could let me know the identity of their ghostwriter.” “They wouldn’t do that.” You responded quickly, a little sharp.

“Oh?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” “That’s…one of our company’s biggest secrets. I don’t even know who the ghostwriter is.” That came out pretty smoothly. Maybe I don’t know the ‘real me’ after all.

“Well there’s no harm in asking.”

“Do you like WAV3’s music?” You couldn’t help yourself from a little prodding as you pulled up your R1 profile on Namjoon’s phone.

“I love it. I was disappointed when I found out they have a ghostwriter, too. I expected more from them. But life has its ups and downs.”

“Just gotta keep it real.” You added.

“Exactly.” He smiled at you as he took back his phone. “Do you mind if I read through some of your stuff now? Something tells me I’ll be waiting here a while.” “With a request like talking to someone who can tell you the identity of our ghostwriter, I’m sure a while is an understatement.” Again with that cute dimple smile as he turned to his phone and opened your first tab.

“That was…” You turned to look at him as he began to speak after a few minutes. “Was it okay?”

“I loved it.” Your phone buzzed. Checking it, you saw you had a new R1 follower.

“Do you do the rapping yourself?” “Oh, haha, no…just do the writing.” “You should give rapping a try. There’s so much passion in your writing, I’m sure you’d be able to project that in your voice.” “Thank you…I’m more of a behind-the-scenes person, though.” “I get that. But, I do really think you should go somewhere with this.” “Maybe…” “Y/N ssi, come on.” One of the assistants to the CEO called you up. “I gotta go…” “Okay. Before you go, since I gave you an autograph, could you give me one?” “Really?” “If you wouldn’t mind.” You smiled and took the paper he handed you from his bag, along with the same pen from before. “Oh, and um…” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe you could put your number on it, too. Just in case.” “I-In case of what?” “Well um…” He laughed. “In case I like you.” You smiled in return, somehow managing to stay composed on the outside whereas on the inside you were freaking out. It was a little embarrassing having to check your phone to see what your phone number was, but it’s not like you needed it much. You felt the assistant’s eyes burning a hole into your back as you finished your little autograph and handed it back to Namjoon. “I’ll see you later.” He called to you as you left. “Is that a promise?” You boldly called back, and left to the sight of his dimpled smile. Namjoon settled back into this chair and entered your number into his phone, remembering your name from when the assistant called you. “Y/N…cute.”

“How did it go?” Jin asked Namjoon when he returned to the dorms.

“How we expected it would.” Jungkook let out a disappointed sigh. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Youaren’t going to do anything. I’ll keep an eye on Yoongi. You guys just have to pretend that everything’s completely normal, and it will be.” The present members nodded and Namjoon walked up to Yoongi’s room, knocking quietly. “Hyung? Are you asleep?” “No.” A tired voice said from the other side. Namjoon entered. “How are you?” “Dumb question.”

Namjoon walked up to where his grumpy hyung was sitting on his bed and held out a hand. “Your phone?” Yoongi handed it over without question. “There’s this R1 user I think you’ll like.” “You told me to stay off R1.” “Only because you were using it obsessively to find that ghostwriter. There are still things to appreciate, you know.” “No. No, I don’t know. Everything’s fake.” “Everything isn’t fake, hyung. It’s just-“ “You’re wrong. Those lyrics were me. They were my everything. And they still are.” “It’s not like the lyrics are what’s bad! It’s just a ghostwriter.” “No. It’s just the world showing that it’s always fake. That there’s nothing to really believe in.” “Well, I met this writer myself, so I can assure you they’re the real deal, not some ghost.” Yoongi huffed and took his phone back. “Life has its ups and downs. You just…gotta keep it real.” Namjoon smiled. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Yoongi lightly punched Namjoon’s arm. “I’ll check out this writer. They’re good?” “Amazing. I really think they’ll help you out of this rut.” “Okay. Thanks.” Yoongi managed a slight smile as Namjoon left the room, and he turned to his phone, pulled up to the page of the R1 writer. He looked at it for a few seconds, before opening your first song.

Namjoon left Yoongi’s room, hopeful. Even a little confident! That confidence drained when he remembered he had your number saved in his phone, and that you’d probably be expecting him to text you some time soon.

He entered his room and plopped down on his bed, taking out his phone and pulling up your contact, feeling his face get a little hot as he tapped the text icon. You shouldn’t be getting this nervous. “Hey, it’s RM. You can call me Namjoon, if you want.” That seemed fine. He hit send and waited…delighting in the fact that it didn’t take long for you to respond. “Hey! Thanks :) is that the real you, then? Namjoon?” “You tell me…have you listened to any BTS music yet?” oh shit oh shit I hope that wasn’t rude…

“Yep! I went on a binge about an hour ago. You guys are really good~” “I know, right?” “A shame you’re not popular.” He smiled at your snarky response. “Well, at least we’ve got some fans.” “And what if I sold one of them your phone number?” “Lol, have fun with the entire five dollars you’d make from that.”

A knock on his door followed by Yoongi entering distracted Namjoon from his conversation with you. “I guess you can come in.” “They’re good. That writer you showed me.” “I know, right?” “No, like, really good. Where did you say you met them?” Ummmmmm…“Just on the bus. I noticed R1 open on her phone and asked about it. She showed me some of her writing and I thought you would like it.” “Did she recognize you?” “Kind of. She knew who BTS is but she didn’t know me by my stage name, and she said she only just listened to our music like an hour ago.”

“Wait…you’re talking to her?”                             “Oh, um, yeah.” Yoongi was silent for a little bit. “Are you into her or something?” “What?! No way. Just wanted it in case.” “In case of what?” I should’ve thought of an answer to that by now. “Writing advice.” “…Yeah, okay.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Can I have it?” “Have what?” “Her number. Keep up.” “Why do you want her number?” Yoongi smirked. “Same as you. Writing advice, right?” “Well, I’d have to ask if she’s okay with that.” “She’s fine with it.” Yoongi took Namjoon’s phone out of his hands before he could react and screenshotted your contact, then sent it to himself. “Thanks.” He said and tossed Namjoon his phone back. Namjoon sighed while shaking his head, and quickly texted you to inform you of Yoongi now having your number.

Now back in his room, Yoongi pulled up his messages on his laptop and his contacts on his phone, entering your number slowly and carefully; sure to not make a mistake. He was about to save it, when he realised, I don’t even know her name…

He tapped the name box and entered the only thing that came to mind: “Ghost?”

#bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #yoongi #yoongi scenarios #Kpop reactions #Kpop scenarios

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X10 - The Cricket Game

I’m loving this Season’s villains! I think they’re...CORA-upting me!!! XD

It’s okay, Reggie! You know I’m PUN-OMENAL at these!

If you want to read my actual thoughts on this episode (And BOY do I have some opinions), hit me up by going down below the cut!

Press Release Regina is accused of murdering one of the town’s most beloved fairytale characters – but only Emma senses that she may be innocent. Meanwhile, back in the fairytale land that was, after capturing the Evil Queen, Snow White and Prince Charming set about planning her public execution in order to rid the land of her murderous tyranny. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past The trapping Regina scene in the flashback captivates Snow’s character in essence. Snow is not a stupid woman. She knows from experience what Regina is capable of, so she took the precaution of bringing reinforcements. However, she still has the kindness and love that the world (Both in and out of universe) came to know and love her for by attempting for diplomacy with Regina and later mourning the fact that Regina didn’t take it after the fact.

Apart from that, this is honestly a very frustrating segment. That’s because from where I stand, Regina at this point in her life absolutely deserved to die, and it was moronic of Snow not to let that happen.

And I get that that’s the point of the segment. Snow learns what everyone else already knew: Regina can’t change. However, the problem comes where this episode tries to make Snow and Charming’s debate one of equal merit to try to play up to a level of ambiguity. The episode is trying so hard to convince me that Snow might be in the right for wanting to spare Regina from execution, but is actually giving the explanation and diligence of dialogue to Charming. Charming’s coming across as barely ruthless, and his words are those that make sense and are given truth by the fact that we have seen what Regina is capable of. Hell, Regina, in the moments before the execution says that she regrets not having caused more pain.

And if they’re not going for an ambiguous plot and Snow is unabashedly supposed to be wrong in this flashback, then it’s just an honestly boring flashback. The segment itself doesn’t explore anything or lead to any unique character moments. While it’s nice to see Regina and Henry Sr. talk again, their conversation is pointless and gives us nothing that we haven’t gotten before. It honestly shouldn’t have existed because it paints Snow and Charming’s rule, something that was supposed to be fair and strong, albeit stuck in a conflict with Regina’s kingdom, into a bit of a joke. Now, in relation to the present, is it better that Regina lives? Yes, but this flashback is so fresh off the boat of detailing all of the harm that she caused in Season 1 that it would’ve had more effectiveness had it aired in a later season where present Regina could’ve had a lot more goodness at her back and her past been more distanced. As it stands, it’s a flashback that works semi effectively for Regina, but at the cost of reinforcing Regina’s more evil qualities and making Snow seem like not only a detrimental pacifist (And to be frank, an idiot), but an unjust ruler to all of her friends who lost what and who they cared for at Regina’s hands. It was actually painful to watch the scene between Snow and Charming after the failed execution, and not in the good way (It’s made even worse by the fact that Snow is so much smarter in the present). Snow’s not presenting a good enough argument to spare Regina against someone who is framed semi-negatively who has every reasonable reason to want to kill her, and it’s even revealed during her conversation with Rumple (“I don’t even know if it’s possible.”) that she doesn’t even have complete confidence in her decision while it risks the safety of her entire kingdom. How am I supposed to retain my confidence that Snow has what it takes to rule when this is how she handles such a big decision? Present I love the story here. It feels like the logical continuation of the story for out mains: What do we do with Regina now? Emma feels mixed, but her love for Henry and after dealing with Cora for an extended amount of time paints her as more willing to at least hear Regina out going forward (Though with understandable limits) while Snow and Charming who have encountered Regina at her worst for far longer are far more reluctant, and that conflict of feelings is the driving point behind the story. Now, do I consider Emma a touch too forgiving? Somewhat, but I also feel like said experiences with Cora paired with an understanding of the path bad parenting can turn on onto and genuine gratefulness for her return home makes it work well enough, especially with their argument during the party!

If I had a complaint about this segment (And it’s honestly a nitpick), it would be at Emma trying to pretend that there’s this connection between her and Regina about trying to change. Now, it’s effective enough, showing how Emma wants to be a mother to Henry while Regina’s trying to change her life, but I feel like the balance of that comparison never quite felt as strong as it could’ve.

Also, let’s talk about the “my son” line. I take no issue with it and actually applaud the line. It’s appropriately framed as the moment where Emma’s gone too far when she says it, but because as far as she knows, Regina has just squandered her own redemption, something she was trying to do for Henry’s sake, and then had the nerve to lie about it. It’s supposed to be a frustrating yet understandable response and it annoys me how so many refuse to accept that there are layers to this line and conversation that are delivered through framing and think that this is some issue where sides need to be definitively taken on who was “right.” That’s not how this works. Also, it had an appropriate level of setup because Emma was definitely responsive to Regina’s snipe at her during the party as to her skills as a mother. We see that throughout the episode, Emma’s been taking more steps to take on a direct motherly role to Henry after that conversation at the party. It culminates so well so at the moment she’s lost faith in Regina’s innocence, she’s lost faith in her ability to be a mother too. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -The opening shot of this episode is the most underrated shot in the entire series. It’s cool, dark, and Killian’s standing in the moonlight like a badass. It’s the first frame we see without even a recap or intro, but it pulls me in like nothing else in the world! And as the moment intensifies and we here Killian’s theme as he looks upon an unsuspecting Storybrooke and later jumps off his ship, it only gets better. Gif makers, make more gifs of this because I don’t see these shota on my dash at all and that’s a fucking problem! Like, it’s badass Hook! How is this not the centerpiece art or inspiration for like a dozen fics, no matter what you ship?! Like, Killian could either be a good guy or a bad guy in that! So please, just use this gif more! -Cora and Killian have a great rapport. While Killian’s not dumb by any means, we see how his vengeance tends to blind him and how someone more reserved in her thinking like Cora (EFor as INCREDIBLY fucked up as she is) can keep his thoughts in check. -Cora! Don’t kill the nice tackle shop employee! Rude af, ya bitch! And thank you, Killian for at least having the decency not to kill him. -I talk a LOT more about the tacos scene in the “Flip My Ship” section of this reviews (Or should I say, I TACO bout it), but the aftermath with Henry and Emma is hysterical and it only gets better with time. The line that brings the joke home (“It’s impressive that we can still provide her with a few traumatic childhood memories at this stage of the game”) just cements it as one of OUAT’s eternal shining moments. -Why did we not see Snow and Charming take down King George? At risk of dipping my toe into the salt pool, I feel like King George was really done dirty in the name of getting more characters when he was dripping with nuance. I’m not mad, per se seeing as we got that great castle storming last season, but there were more than a couple of eyes rolled when that bit of exposition was delivered to Regina. -It is just too cute to see Snow and Emma walking into a party only to be cheered by all their friends. Like, that just warms my heart. -On a sadder note, I realized how Emma’s name on the sign is smaller and not of the same material, almost like an add on. I don’t know if that was supposed to be read as a subtle hint from the set designers that Emma doesn’t fully fit in yet or what, but that hurts so much! -”I cannot tell you the relief of cooking something that I didn’t have to kill first.” “Don’t I know it. Meat loaf back home? What a bitch.” Another great set of funny lines! -On another funny note, I’m just imagining somewhere in town, Killian and Cora are walking around with ALL of the modern world jokes happening in the background! Fic writers (Maybe just me): GET ON THIS! -Charming’s speech is just so great here! It’s funny (“Here’s to hopefully not having to look for a while), adorable, and creates this very at-home mood. -Leroy, way to rush for the knife! XD And “What’s the secret ingredient? Poison?” is just a riot! -Mad props to Regina for her respect for the new paradigm of her standings with Henry’s custody. Like, look at Season 1 Regina, and there’s this big change! BUT also, I like how the writing shows how she’s not suddenly a goody-two shoes. Regina has anger issues and that comes out in a nasty and petty way. This was a good decision, especially given how fast she realizes her mistake and apologizes! And that real sincere apology is accepted, but the nastiness and pettiness doesn’t fully go away either, as evidenced by her talk with Dr. Hopper shortly afterwards! The character work at here is just gorgeous! -Cora is terrifying. She knows from just one look at Regina how “broken” she is. (As a side not, I’m now thinking of the title of the Season 1 premiere, “Broken” and how it relates to Regina. -”Reminding them of my past?” Archie told Emma nothing about your past and even you know that! -”I fear the Queen will never change.” I like this line, not only because it contrasts between Jiminy’s resolve in the past and present towards Regina, but how it speaks to the impact that Henry has had on Regina, as he’s made her someone who he believes could be saved. -”We must dispense justice.” Jiminy, for once in your life, you are making sense! -LIsten to the fluffy baby! -”Corgina’s” outfit is just so cool! -I like how Emma, though knowing that Regina’s words were said out of anger, still takes an aspect of them to heart by trying to be a more involved mother. -”How can I blame the one I love most?” A more cynical side of me is saying that this line is purposely over the top, but the side of me seeing Regina and Henry Sr. having a moment is crying too hard at said moment to care! -Rumple shows up for the execution. I wonder, did he actually fear that Regina would die, and if so, was he coming just to see if it would happen, or was his motivation more out of concern. Also, love the pan to him when Regina says, “even caused death.” Twice! -”We let her go. Then, we find the truth.” YES! Give me “Emma Swan: Investigations” on the 3DS, please! -If I ever decide to make a drinking game out of this show, I need to make sure that I take a BIG gulp every time Rumple is interrupted while or right before eating. -Rumple cooing at Pongo turns out to be all I need. Best episode ever! -”Well a long time ago in another life, I got to know a sheepdog or two.” WHY. WAS. THIS. NEVER. SHOWN?! -”It won’t allow us to communicate [With Pongo].” If magic won’t let you communicate with animals, then what’s the fucking point of it? -”Couldn’t you just use magic to fool us?” Give it time, Emma. -I LOVE those looks Snow and Charming give when Rumple reveals that Emma has magic and the follow-up reluctance when Rumple goads her into using it. -Love the Neal hint with that dream catcher! Prop Department, you guys deserve a retroactive raise! XD -Why did Pongo’s dream catcher only start glowing around his back/stomach? XD -I like how Emma immediately adopts and understands the concept of “all magic comes with a price.” -”He’s not [your son]! He’s mine.” I love the buildup to this fight. Like a cup of tea, it was brewing to the point of a perfect outburst. That having been said, Emma’s dialogue gets a little...weird after Regina magically pushes her. It sounds like how Snow or Charming would talk, not her, and character voice is an important thing. And why did what Emma say during that bit of the fight change her attitude from fighting Emma to leaving? It’s not like Henry showed up and saw her attack. I guess it’s a matter of credibility? -How the hell did Cora and Killian travel through Storybrooke with any manner of subtlety?! They’re Mr. and Ms. Drama! -Killian says “mom” too! I know it’s stupid, but what was up with the weird colloquialism in the Enchanted Forest?! Like, 98% of the citizens use the “mother/father” designation, and these instances where they use “mom” really pop out! -”If that’s him, who did you kill?” “How should I know? It’s my first day in town!” The humor in this episode is just the best! XD Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Regina’s Redemption - Regina’s redemption is appropriately challenged here and instead of Henry doing the challenging, it’s Henry’s heroes, who are far less forgiving of Regina’s misgivings. Well, partially because of Emma. I said this before, but I think how they handled Regina in the present part of the story was just genius! She’s really trying to fit in, but no one forgives her barring Henry, Emma, and Archie. Understandable. But what makes this so good is that Regina’s doesn’t just flip characters into someone nice but unrecognizable. The nasty, petty, and savage side to her is still very much alive, suppressed until she gets angry. That goes such a long way to showing that this redemption is a fight within herself. It’s a show of how self aware she can be depending on if she can apologize or not and sticks with the other characters as they investigate Archie’s murder. Cora in Storybrooke - Cora’s here and she’s corrupting shit! Cora immediately starts acting like a heat-seeking missile. She gets basic intel about her situation and then set out about destroying Regina’s life. And just like said missile, she destroys it pretty much on sight. Killian’s Revenge/Redemption - We’re starting to get into the “how” of how Killian takes his revenge. And Killian saves a fish guy! Rumple’s Redemption - Granted while all but forced because of Belle’s presence, Rumple does help Emma and co. to the best of his abilities. Favorite Dynamic Emma and Regina -  What I love about this dynamic here is just its sincerity. Emma is blatantly unsure of how much Regina has changed, but she knows that she wants to and is being supportive. And even though this builds to an unhappy ending between the two of them, that sticks with Emma the whole time. She gives Regina the benefit of the doubt because she both believes in Regina and she wants Henry to have her in his life until plausible deniability goes out the window (As far as she knows). Emma works herself to the bone trying to examine each and every possibility that could prove Regina’s innocence and I feel like she doesn’t get enough credit for that. Regina herself is also being sincere, both in her defense for herself in the murder mystery and with her emotions and wants. She’s very honest as to her opinions on why she’s innocent and she’s open about her hopes to spend more time with Henry. And you honestly feel her trying to be more self aware, especially with the apology at the party. Writer Goodman and Hull are back in this episode, and unfortunately, so is Goodman’s sanctimony. This episode is so annoyingly on the nose with its laurels and in the past, it has nothing to show for it. Additionally, there’s no sense of framing in the flashback. While Snow ultimately decides that trying to redeem Regina was wrong, the entire amount of buildup towards that conclusion gives all the good points to David while making Snow our focal character. In the present, things are much better, for the framing is dependent on the effective shows of work into her redemption that Regina’s gone through and the audience has the crucial point of reference that Cora is in town and she can transform herself. I feel like I need to attribute this to Hull. Rating 6/10. I’m so torn about this episode. The quality of the content in the present is out of this world. Half the lines had me in stitches because the comedy hit a bullseye each and every time. And story wise? What a great one! The conflicts between Emma and her parents, Emma and Regina, and Emma with herself are all delivered masterfully and they were written so intricately that no one is left without sympathy. On the other side of the coin though, the flashback is a profound waste of time. It serves to grant a single point of exposition, but unlike other episodes that try for the same thing, nothing of interest is even attempted barring a genuine though completely useless conversation between Regina and Henry Sr.. We know Regina wasn’t about to switch sides in this flashback, and without the attempt of pretense to entertain that, the writing ends up making Snow a complete idiot. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Snowing - TACOSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! *ahem* That is all. Okay, I’ve got more to say because the taco scene is just adorable and sexy, and it’s rare that we get a scene like this without unfortunate implications behind it. The chemistry between Ginny and Josh is as hot as it’s ever been and it’s a perfect bout of payoff for their separation. Seeing Snow and Charming cradle each other and have such fluffy pillow talk that you’d think the scene happened in heaven itself is just flawless. Rumbelle - Seeing Belle coo over Rumple cooing at Pongo brings the biggest smile to my face on this Earth! ()()()()()()()()() Thank you all for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales! Next time, let’s examine one of our outsiders, okay? See you then!

Season 2 Tally (92/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (29/60) Jane Espenson (17/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (20/50) David Goodman (16/30) Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (7/30) Kalinda Vazquez (10/30) Daniel Thomsen (10/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x10 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #basically every character in this episode is discussed

[damn-daemon]

Healing and Heartache (Part 3) - Nick Jakoby x Female Reader

See Part 1 here See Part 2 here

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh my gosh, you guys. I am actually super nervous about how this one gets received. I’m not really sure how far into the ‘reader’ background you’re supposed to go, and the writer in me just kinda got really carried away. But personally, I love it and I hope you will too.

Warnings - no smut, language, angst, overuse of sake

Sometimes, happiness is not so hard to believe in.

You lose all track of time in that little restaurant. Admittedly, you had not planned on spending that much time with Nick. With the next day off, you had hoped to find a comfortable position in your bed before the real soreness kicked in, but once Nick got comfortable, you realize his is pretty great company. He can purposely be charming and funny, and damn it’s been a while since you’ve had a good laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, hand held up, noddles dangling dangerously between you and the bowl. “You seriously garden?”

Nick nods, mouth full. He offhandedly mentioned earlier how much easier it was eating this way. You thought he meant without the tusks, but he might have meant the chopsticks too. He wielded those things like a pro.

“Compost too.”

“Now you’re shitting me,” you say, feeling your eyebrows comically rise to your hairline. He chuckled deeply, like the sound was emanating from his chest. It was a nice sound.

“I shit you not,” he replied with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Actually, there’s no shit at all. It’s mostly weeds and bad vegetables from my garden.”

For some reason, that line really gets you. It’s just the right amount of nonchalant to make you lose it. You drop your noodles back in their bowl and have to cover your mouth a moment until the laughter subsides. 

Nick thinks your laughter sounds wonderful. The fact that it’s directed at what he’s said rather than at him or what’s been done to him makes it all the more beautiful. He had almost started to dislike laughter before you. Now he’s starting to remember that there’s something beyond the petty hate. 

“You might be one of the strangest orcs I’ve ever met,” you admit, playing with the remaining food. “But, hey, credit where credit is due. I don’t garden. Can’t keep anything alive to save my life.”

Nick leans in, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, and for a moment you marvel at the different patterns on his skin. You hadn’t thought orcs were capable of indicating anything with their skin color, but you could swear Nick looks slightly flushed. You eyeball the empty glasses at the table. There were a lot more than you remember drinking. 

“I hate to tell you this, (Y/N),” he whispers, “but you work in a hospital.”

“Well, if a cucumber comes in with pulmonary edema, they better not give him to me.”

And there you go again, laughing. There are tears in your eyes. It really brings out the color in them, and Nick decides that he likes them. They’re so expressive. Not like his. Orc eyes have evolved for a predatory nature. They didn’t crinkle when he laughed or have this strange ability to twinkle when something was on his mind. Other races thought human eyes weren’t much to marvel at. Nick though they were wrong.

“Ow,” you mumble as your back spasms against so much effort. Your body would be a killjoy.

“Are you okay?” Nick asks, voice all concern. That was more than what you got at the hospital. It was mostly ‘what were you thinings’ and ‘are you crazys’ there.

“Yeah. No. I will be,” you manage to say, stretching your back ever so slightly. “In case you didn’t notice, your race is incredibly strong, and apparently they don’t take well to waking up with strangers on top of them.”

Nick’s ears twitch. “Uh...look, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.”

You smile. “Not what you think, I promise. This orc came in, not breathing, no pulse, nothing. I did the first thing that came to mind. Hopped right on the gurney and stared administering CPR. Turns out, last time he was conscious, someone was trying to kill him. So, when he sees me applying very uncomfortable pressure to his chest, he’s got no problem forcefully relocating me to the parking lot.”

Taking advantage of the brief silence, you shove more ramen in your mouth, not caring in the slightest that you look like a glutton, mostly because you are one. “Guess I should be grateful he didn’t punch me. I’ve had more black eyes than I can handle. You’re actually getting to see me in relatively good condition.”

You’ve almost finished your bowl when it occurs to you that Nick has been silent the entire time. Slowly, you glance up, and your gaze meets a stare of utter disbelief.

“What?”

“You did all that...for an orc.”

Nick had been enjoying your company, honestly it was probably one of the best experiences he’d had in some time, but he’d be lying if he said he had no doubts about you. There was always a voice in the back of his mind, whispering things. People are only nice because they want something, this is all going to end in a prank, something like that. It was his defense mechanism, that paranoid part of his mind protecting him when everything inevitably went wrong. It can’t hurt as much when he sees it coming.

But right now, that voice has gone completely silent.

“Of course I did,” you say, almost offended by the notion of the answer being anything else. “The people who come through those hospital doors, they aren’t human or orc or dwarf. They are my patients, and I will never do anything short of my damnedest to make sure they get cared for, that they don’t die without every possible avenue being exhausted to save them.”

And just like that, Nick has irrevocably placed all his trust in you. It won’t occur to him until later that night, when he can’t sleep because all this thoughts revolve around this conversation, but in your hands, right now, is more than he has given anyone in a long time. 

You take a breath as Nick remains quiet. You’ve done it again; you’ve gone too far.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I, uh, I don’t mean to sound so...extreme. It’s sort of an automatic reaction these days. The number of times I’ve had to explain myself to people over giving a damn about someone who isn’t human is...infuriating really. So, I’m sorry if-”

Nick places his hand on yours across the table. You’re not sure if it’s the touch or that determined spark in his eyes that cuts you off.

“Never apologize for doing what you do,” he says in a stern voice that sounds so unlike him. “Do you have any idea how many humans I know who would defend others races like that, without a moment’s hesitation? I can count them on one hand, and that includes the orcs, dwarves, elves, what have you who would do the same. You have what the world needs to become a better place. Don’t be sorry for that.”

You turn your hand over in his.

“You have it too, you know.”

Nick shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

He tries to pull his hand back, but you hold it in place, insisting he meet your gaze again. That determination is gone, you see, because when the subject is about him, there’s always so much doubt. No one has ever given him reason to be confident about himself. Old men in suits would argue he was hired for diversity, not for skill, not for competence even. To them, he was a poster boy for a liberal agenda, not an orc who just wanted to do what he believed was right, despite all the odds. 

It was so wrong.

You squeeze his hand. “I do.”

You don’t know it yet, but something has transpired between the two of you, a deeper connection that at some point in your life you had given up on ever knowing.

Some time later, the waitress has placed the bill on the table, a not so subtle hint to hurry up and get out of the restaurant. You snatch the paper away before Nick can get his hand on it, and smile at the slightly annoyed look on his face.

Your eyebrows raise slightly. “How much sake did you drink?”

Nick looks at the table. Most of the glasses had been cleared. He hadn’t meant to drink much, but when you first arrived, his nerves would not calm. It wasn’t until the conversation had really taken off that he had been able to sit back and enjoy himself. However, the sake still flowed and he still drank it. It didn’t seem so bad.

“I didn’t drink that much.”

You bite your lip, reexamining the placement of the decimal point. “Yeah, okay, you stay there, maybe drink a little water, and I’ll go pay the bill.”

But Nick is not about to have that as he moves to stand. “Hey now, I’m an orc, remember? We can handle our alcohol better than hu-”

And there it is. The look. You knew it very well from your college days, that wide-eyed, sudden realization that you clearly should have stopped drinking at least five drinks ago. Sake wasn’t known for being strong, but this sake was, which was why you ate here as much as you did.

Of course, Nick hadn’t known that.

You stand and put a hand on his shoulder as he sways slightly, barely choking out “-mans.”

“Okay, big stuff, sit back down,” you say, pushing lightly on his chest. He practically collapses in the booth. “I’ll come back for you when I’m done.”

One payment (and mental negotiation that you won’t go to the mall this month) later, you and Nick are standing on the sidewalk, squinting at the last light of the day. You herd him slowly to your truck, opening the door for him like the chivalrous woman you are.

Unlike most under the influence guys (and girls) you have dealt with, Nick clearly understands that he is in no position to find his vehicle and drive it home for the evening. That’s a breath of fresh air you hadn’t realized you needed.

You hop in the driver’s seat, fumbling with the keys slightly. “Alright, so where do you-”

As soon as the engine turns, orcish music blasts over your speakers.

You hit the power on your radio so fast, you think that maybe Nick didn’t catch it. But you refuse to look over to check.

The brief silence feels like an eternity to you.

“...you listen to orcish music?”

“Well, no, I-”

“I’ve never met a human who liked it. Well, besides the ones who like to hang with the Fogteeth at their clubs.” You glance over at Nick, and he manages to look a little sheepish. “Not that you seem the type.”

You roll your eyes, pulling out onto the street. Nick lamely mumbles his address. The cab is silent. 

Guilt starts to eat away at you. He hadn’t meant any harm, and honestly, you can’t blame him for asking.

“It’s...it’s not that I listen to it often, and certainly not them,” you say eventually, referring to the particular band on the radio. “They’re tryhards who think if they say fuck the police every other line, they’ll become some kind of lyrical legends.”

There’s a beat.

You blink and sigh. And there you went and did it. The whole point was to make it look like you didn’t have some strange fascination with orcs. Good going.

There was just something about Nick that made you want to just spill your guts every five minutes.

You aren’t sure if you love or hate that.

Nick leans back in his seat, looking at you and feeling remarkably sober all of a sudden. “Do...do you speak orcish?”

He watches you glance between him and the road multiple times, fighting some mental battle over what to say.

“A little...a lot,” you admit, shrugging. “Look, part of the reason Cedars-Sinai accepted me is because they needed someone fluent in orcish to help them with patient care.”

Nick blinks slowly. “That’s not something they teach in school.”

Not in high school certainly. None of the teens had ever wanted to speak his language. Everyone wanted to learn elvish. In certain colleges, there were courses, but a medical student was hardly the type to add that to their already busy schedule. It was a language that was difficult to learn as it was, and usually hard to pronounce for anyone who wasn’t an orc.

“I didn’t learn it in school,” you say, sighing. “It’s not that I’m...ashamed or anything. It’s just that when people find out, it brings up more questions than I’m willing to answer is all.”

He gets it. Oh, does he get it. Questions were all he got for months as he was trying to become a cop, questions about every aspect of his life that certainly weren’t part of the normal requirements. He liked getting to know people, not being interrogated about what he thought about a particular event and if it made him angry, or why he liked this band and did he know they said terrible things against cops. Of course he knew. He hated that song. It was never ending. 

“I won’t ask,” Nick says earnestly. “But, if you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen. People tell me I’m good for that, at least.”

There’s something in the tone of his voice that depresses you, and you can’t help but feel like you owe him the story as your chest starts to tug again. What he said to you back in the restaurant was probably the greatest thing anyone has told you since...well, long before you came to Los Angeles. 

“My dad was a farmer,” you start, choosing to focus solely on the road. “He hired only orcs as farmhands. I always assumed it was because they were stronger, made for a faster workday, stuff like that. I, uh...I must have spent hours out there with them, each and every day. Sunrise to sunset, I’d be throwing tiny bales of hay right alongside them. They taught me the language, that way I could listen in as Tommy complained about his wife nagging at him or Walter talked about how he was going to retire in one more week. He never did.”

Nick’s eyes widen slowly as he listens to you confess your childhood to him. He can hear it in your voice, can see it in the way your lower lip quivers ever so slightly. This is something deeply personal, something few people ever got to hear. 

And you were telling it to him.

He gulps, the nerves suddenly returning.

Your eyes take on a different look, he sees. The distant, glazed look of a woman caught in a memory.

“One day these punks from town came over. They were the kind of people who were never going anywhere in their lives, you could tell from one look. They started messing with the farmhands, going on about how useless and ugly they were, how they’re taking jobs from good, hardworking humans. But, of course, they don’t fight back. An orc attacks a human, he’s bound to be run out of town like he’s some feral dog.

“And that’s when my dad comes into the field. He was never the most emotional of men. He’d respond to I love you with a grunt. But he steps right in front of those orcs, his guys, and points a shotgun at those boys. And he tells them ‘these are some of the hardest working men I have ever had the privilege of meeting. I can walk away from them and trust that everything will be okay. I can leave my daughter with them and know that she is safe. I can’t do that with the likes of you.’“

Now you’re crying again. You miss your dad so much. He had the emotional range of an old school cowboy, but he never tried to crush your dreams, and he never spoke poorly of anyone who did not deserve it.

“When he died, five orc clans came to his funeral. Five.” You shake your head. “I’ve never seen the likes of it before.”

And then after, your mom fired all the orcs and hired those same punks who dared think they were better, but you don’t mention that to Nick.

The truck falls silent as Nick absorbs everything you said to him. Your father reminded him very much of his, a hardworking, stand up guy who was both respected and hated. It seems they both had died before their time. 

He wants to do nothing more than reach for your hand and hold it, to show you he’s here and he cares that you told him, that you opened yourself up to him and bore a part of your soul that you clearly keep so close.

Instead, he just mumbles, “Thank you.”

You finally pull up to his house. It’s small and has only one level, but it’s far better than your cramped apartment. He’s got a yard, a small porch, and...

“Well, there it is,” you say with a small smile. “Your garden.”

There’s something about the look in your eyes, the curve on your lips as you stare almost lovingly at the garden on the side of his house that prompts Nick to say it. Either that or it’s the sake.

“Do you want to do this again some time?” he blurts, slightly unnerved by the sudden confusion on your face. “I mean, maybe not me drinking so much that you need to drive me home, but everything else that is.”

He just wants you to say yes, because suddenly he’s so afraid he won’t see you again after today.

“You mean, like a date?”

Oh.

Oh that was what he asked for, wasn’t it?

A date.

Oh.

OH.

He rubs the back of his head. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be that. You and I can just hang out together, somewhere, doing...something.”

Smooth.

You lean in, grinning. “Like a date?”

Nick blinks. “If you want to call it that. Are we calling it that?”

And you laugh, but Nick can tell it’s not at him, not really. There’s a warmth to it, like happiness is bursting out of you and this is the only way you can express it. He finds it calming. 

In perfect orcish, you reply, “It’s a date, then.”

Okay, guys, I’m crying. Please be kind. 

Tags! @xxdarkdarlingxx @homra-the-red-clan @frankie2902 @littlemessyjessi @ivannesque @isisnicole @notaliteraltoad @cheshagirl @annwoods91 @ever-hungry-aria @robotic-loser 

Did I miss you? Do you want to be added? Do you hate my guts? Let me know!

#bright fanfiction #bright #bright netflix #nick jakoby #nick jakoby fanfiction #nick jakoby x reader #jakoby x reader

[ilovelocust]

Final Thoughts Season 2

Sheith is alive and well.  The hints went from subtle to fire alarm blaring this season.  I’m thinking they aren’t together yet in canon, but later seasons now have a perfect set up to start a relationship.  If there is going to be a gay couple in this show it will be these two.

Keith stepping into a role of responsibility felt very true to the character.  Started with him giving up his chance to know about his heritage for the sake of the universe, and ended with him taking over the team when Shiro lost consciousness.

Shiro’s fight with Zarkon over the Black Lion was very interesting.  I definitely didn’t mind any of his scenes, and I really want to know what their plans are for him next season.  There are dozen directions they could go.

Allura felt like she grew as a character for me.  Before I could take her or leave her, but I liked her having to overcome her own prejudice against the Galra to accept Keith was still the same person she knew before.

Lance was really kind of annoying this season.  The episode with the mermaid was okay, because for once he actually got to live up to his own hype.  His constant self-aggradization really got on my nerves though.  It looked like near the end he might have gotten a chance to grow as a character, but without more episodes focusing on him, I’m really not certain if it stuck.

Pidge’s quest to save her family is developing nicely.  She hasn’t changed as a character, but to be honest she doesn’t need to.  There are no real big character flaws for her to overcome.

Hunk feels like he is stunted.  His fear and constant throwing up are too easy of jokes for the writers to tone down, and it makes any bravery development feel flat.  Nice to know Shay is still waiting for him to come back though.  On second thought, he wasn’t flat.  He was just out of focus this season.

Coran was quite the looker when he was young.  Also nice to see some touching moments between him and Allura, where it is obvious that he is terrified that he will lose the daughter of his best friend too.

Zarkon, what the hell was up with him this season? Last season the paladins had the idiot ball, this season he claimed it as his throne.  Why is he so obsessed with the black lion.  I feel there has to be more to it than Voltron considering he made his own mech of near equal power that can be run by one person.  Maybe it’s tied into how he basically had the black lion custom built for him.  It seems it used to be a force separate from any others.

Haggar, I really want to know why she is following Zarkon.  I can understand being unable to rule herself due to mistrust, but there has to be a puppet king that won’t waste your fleets on obvious traps you point out to them.  Also, betting on her being a Altean/Galra hybrid not just a  pure Altean.

Good season, thoroughly enjoyed and can’t wait for the fan content it inspires.  Looks like I’ll be continuing in this fandom after all.

#Voltron #Sheith #Shiro #Keith #Lance #Pidge #Hunk #Coran #Allura #Haggar #Zarkon #lp