#their story is evolving. there's a plot now. they will have a before and after i think
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LOGAN HOWLETT - NEED
A/N: CHAPTER TEN is here! I'm sorry it took me so long. I just had a lot on my plate. Enjoy!
Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader
Warning: I have decided to not give any warnings. Please remember this story is 18+.
Summary: Things move forward between Logan and Y/N.
Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience. MINORS DNI!
Words: 4300+
Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.
A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Nine
LOGAN HOWLETT - NEED
Jean stood next to a hospital bed, looking down at unconscious Y/N. She had a chart in her hands, checking the data she collected the past three days. Three days - that’s how long Y/N was out of the present.
Logan didn’t want to leave her side once they removed the collar from his neck. The wounds immediately healed, and he became a new person. Jean managed to send Logan away. He insisted on staying by Y/N’s side until she’d open her eyes. Luckily, Jean persuaded him quickly. Even Storm wanted to remain by her side all the time. The friendship between her and Y/N blossomed fast.
When Storm arrived with the rest of the team, she was horrified when she found Logan wounded and weak next to an unconscious body. There was a slight fear Logan wouldn’t be able to heal from the wounds. When Hank and Jean freed Logan from the collar, the healing happened quickly. No one would tell he was fighting for his life hours ago.
Jean enjoyed the silence in the medical room. The only thing she heard was the beeping sound of a heart monitor.
The door to the room opened. Charles wheeled in, followed by Hank, Logan and Storm. Before anyone could ask anything, Jean gave them an answer. “No change. She’s stable, well, but still out.”
Charles was the first to approach the bed. His hands caressed Y/N’s exposed forearm, where he kept staring at the lightly radiating skin. It was fascinating. Charles didn’t have an exact answer for that. All they knew was that it had to do something with her mutation.
“You said it happened before?” The question was for Logan.
“Yes. It was the day we saved the boy and came back here. I noticed her eyes glowing.”
Charles thought about it. “Mutations can evolve. It is one thing you get to master your powers and manipulate them. In some cases, more abilities can be developed. I think this could be the case. Y/N’s mutation is evolving. I believe ner powers will rise to the surface very soon.”
“So, what? You will test her like a lab rat,” Logan scoffed, not fond of the idea. “Hadn’t she had enough of that?”
“I’m not saying we will test on her. That will only happen if she’d want to,” Charles said. “We have to wait until she awakes. It can be minutes, hours, or even days. Her mind is locked. I can’t get inside, no matter how much I try.”
“You said she created a force field around the whole school,” Storm looked at Logan. “Her energy got drained to the last bit. No wonder she’s been out for three days now. She’s never done anything like that before. She could have died.”
Jean approached the woman on the bed. She grabbed her hand, scanning the skin. “Why has this been happening for three days?”
“I forgot to mention one thing,” Logan cleared his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest. It got everyone’s attention. “The leader of the Trask unit that came to school was Y/N’s mother.”
“What?” they all said in unison. All eyes were on him.
Logan nodded. “After the accident with Y/N’s sister, her mother joined Trask Industries. She wanted revenge for her lost child. Turns out, she became a respected, high-ranked person there.”
There was silence. The information about Y/N’s mother was shocking. “That is a plot twist,” Storm commented.
“Y/N didn’t know about it, just to clarify,” Logan added strictly.
“She had her eyes on me since I escaped the lab in Salem,” said Y/N’s voice from the bed.
They all turned to the voice. Logan was the first by her side, staring at her face. Her eyes were open a crack. She was getting used to the light. Y/N blinked a few times before her eyes moved to look at Logan. He saw that her irises were glowing like the colours of the force field - silvery and blue. When she blinked again a few times, they turned back to normal.
“JJ was a trap,” she continued. “It gave away my location. Because of me, the children were in danger. Everything that happened was my fault.”
“No,” Storm walked to her from the other side. She grabbed Y/N’s hand. “You couldn’t know that would happen. All you wanted was to save the boy. And you did it. How could you know it was a trap? Also, you protected the whole school. The building is standing still because of you.”
A yawn escaped Y/N’s lips. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes,” Jean nodded. She had a gentle smile on her face. “They are all back in school. Colossus took them away just in time. The building is standing, and it is all thanks to you.”
“Good,” Y/N closed her eyes. “I’m glad no one got hurt.”
Charles opened his mouth, ready to ask a question. Quickly, he shut it, dismissing what he wanted to ask. “We’ll talk later. Rest,” he suggested.
As they walked away, Y/N opened her eyes and found Logan staring at her. His face was filled with worry. She winked at him. It was a sign to stay. Everyone left while he remained by her bed. The door closed. They were officially alone.
Slowly, she pushed her body up until she was sitting. She stretched her arms. Logan got closer to the bed. Her eyes traced over his body. She realised he wore a simple black T-shirt that perfectly showed his muscles. Her mouth opened, almost dropping down on her lap. Damn. There was an urge to touch his stomach, to feel the abs underneath her touch. She clenched the bedsheet tightly.
“How are you feeling?” Logan’s voice brought her back to reality.
Y/N gulped. “Tired,” she replied. “It might be because I’ve been out for… how long?”
“Three days.”
“That long? Shit,” she shook her head in disbelief. Y/N moved her body. She sat at the edge of the bed, legs hanging in the air. “How are you? What did I miss?”
“A stamp of approval from Scott,” Logan laughed when he said that. “And I’m fine.”
Y/N’s mouth dropped. “Wow, I was expecting everything but that. Wait ‘til he hears about my mother being a part of Trask Industries. He will hate my guts once again. If not more.”
Logan’s eyes took in every detail of Y/N’s face. She had an amused smile on her face. Her eyes were shining with her natural colour. Her hair was all messy and tangled. And yet, she was the perfect thing he ever saw. Logan couldn’t believe he was able to kiss her that night. That dammed night when they were attacked.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Y/N noticed it. She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what was about to come. She could feel it in the air. It got thicker and heavier with lust and something beautiful. She didn’t have the time to whisper his name. Logan’s lips found hers in a feverish kiss. One hand grabbed her by the neck to pull her body as close to his as possible. He had to lean down to reach for her lips.
Y/N’s left hand was feeling the hard abs on his abdomen. The other hand pressed against his cheek. She could feel the beard scratching the skin of her palm. How come he was so hot with that mutton chops beard? He could pull it off.
Logan broke the kiss. He sighed, annoyed. Y/N raised a brow. It was a silent question. She wanted to know why he stopped. “You’ll have a visitor in a few seconds.”
“Ah,” she chuckled. Y/N found it amusing. Logan was visibly unhappy someone had to interrupt them again. On the other hand, she admired his advanced hearing. No one needed to know something was happening between them. It was too soon to show. The first thing they needed to do was to talk about it and define what this thing was between them.
As he stepped back, the door opened. Kitty walked in with Jerome by her side. Y/N’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Hi, JJ!” A smile spread across her face.
“He wanted to see you,” Kitty said when they approached the bed. “He heard us when we talked in the hallway. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Y/N nodded quickly. Her eyes trailed to Logan. He had his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the child. Y/N wanted to laugh at him. It was funny he was jealous of a kid. When JJ sat on the bed next to her, she patted his head.
“Are you feeling okay?” JJ asked her. “I’ve heard what happened. Everyone knows what happened. You saved the school!”
Y/N blinked a few times. She didn’t know what to say to that. “Yeah, she did,” Logan stepped in. “She got to warn us before the attackers came.”
“That’s badass,” Jerome said excitedly. “How did you know about it? Do you have a new mutation? My friends asked about you,” he kept talking fast. “You are like a celebrity among the students. You are a hero,” he explained.
“Oh,” Y/N was not pleased with that information. She didn’t want to be a hero. “There are better heroes out there. Look at Professor Xavier or Storm, Kitty… they are the real heroes here. I just did what was necessary.”
“I wish I could see it,” JJ sighed, upset that he wasn’t there. Colossus took him and the children to a safe place before the soldiers marched in.
“I’m glad you managed to get to a safe place with Colossus,” Y/N dishevelled his hair.
“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Kitty used the silence to ask her.
“Tired,” she gave her the same answer as she had said to Logan. “Thanks for bringing JJ here. At least I know he’s well,” and she pressed a gentle kiss on top of the boy’s head. He slowly became the little brother she never had.
When Kitty took Jerome away, Logan was relieved to be alone with Y/N again. This time, he sat next to her on the bed. His hand found the back of her neck. He started to massage it. Y/N’s eyes closed. She almost purred. A moan escaped her mouth. Logan’s eyes widened at that sound, and he grinned. “That was a pretty sound. You should make more.”
She glared at him. “Dirty mind.”
When he stopped, he leaned closer. “Let me take you back to your room,” he whispered. He kept breathing in Y/N’s scent.
“Again, dirty mind,” she chuckled.
Logan pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You are the one with a dirty mind. I didn’t mean it like that, princess.”
Y/N watched as he got closer, wanting to kiss her again. She pressed an index finger to his lips, stopping him. “I need to do one more thing before we leave,” she said, staring into his eyes. She reached for one of his hands and brushed her fingers against his knuckles. “Scratch me with your claws.”
Logan raised his brows, pushing away a little. “What?”
“Please, do it,” she begged. “I need you to scratch me with them. You’ll see why.”
“No,” he shook his head and pulled away from her. His eyes focused on the floor, frowning. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “You will not hurt me, I promise you. I need to see something. Either you will scratch me with a claw, or I will find a knife and do it myself.”
He growled like a wolf. When Logan clenched a fist, one of the claws slowly came out under his skin. He then turned his body to her. Y/N prepared her forearm. Before he could change his mind, Logan cut into her skin, making her bleed. A second later, the wound lit up like the colours of her forcefield and started closing in front of their eyes.
“Shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know I could do that. That’s new.”
“Damn,” Logan sighed. “That explains why we didn’t find any bullet wounds on your body. There was blood but no gashes. You can heal.”
“I can heal,” she nodded. Y/N buried her face into her hands, sighing loudly. “Holy shit, I can heal. That might explain why I could remain alive all these years in the labs. I know it happened when they attacked us. I remember being shot. I remember the pain. When I looked a few seconds later, the wound wasn’t there. I just needed to be sure that it wasn’t a hallucination.”
Logan grabbed one of her hands and pressed a soft kiss on top of it. It was a sweet, loving gesture. “Come on, princess. I’ll take you to your room.”
“Aw, such a gentleman,” she patted his beard-covered cheek playfully. “I should get wounded more. You’ll treat me like a princess every second of my life,” she teased.
“Very funny.”
They left the lowest level underground. Logan kept her close to him but didn’t touch her. They kept some distance between them in case someone decided to appear out of nowhere. He kept an eye on her in case she would show any sign of weakness.
The atmosphere changed when they arrived at the main level. The students were walking around the hallways, chatting. None of them were holding books. It meant only one thing - it was already afternoon.
One by one, they turned their attention to Logan and Y/N. When they found their teachers walking down the hallway, they stopped talking. The attention was now on them. Fingers were being pointed at them, as well as whispers spreading around.
“That’s her,” someone said.
“She saved the school.”
“They protected us.”
“She teaches English.”
“I want to be as cool as them.”
“Miss Y/L/N can make forcefields.”
All Y/N could hear in her mind was freak, weirdo, murderer. You killed her! You killed my baby!
Y/N closed her eyes and stopped walking. The attention was unpleasant. Logan noticed her face. His hand found Y/N’s lower back. It was a gentle gesture. He pressed his fingers lightly against her. Logan kept watching her face. He could see how her breath quickened. “You okay?” he asked.
Y/N gave him one gentle nod. When she opened her eyes, they started to travel around the place. They captured every single child that was staring at her. Their looks were different. The thoughts that were screaming inside her mind eased. They were barely whispers. Before, she’d feel like the biggest weirdo on the entire planet. Now, the feeling was different. She didn’t want to run away from it. Y/N was aware that she and Logan protected the whole school.
Y/N continued to walk through the crowd of students. She headed to the stairs with Logan close behind. No one asked a thing. No one wanted to talk to her. Y/N appreciated it all.
“The kids look up to ya,” Logan said when they climbed all the stairs to the third floor. They stopped in front of Y/N’s room. “They always do when someone becomes a hero,” he made a face.
“I’m no hero,” she shrugged. It made her feel uncomfortable. “I only did what was necessary.”
Logan sighed. “You sure you’ll be fine?”
She leaned against the closed door and smiled. “Yes, I will. Thank you, my knight in shining armour. I shall give you flowers for your bravery,” she bowed to him a little, laughing.
“Text me if you need me, and I’ll come to you, princess,” he winked at her.
Y/N walked into her room. She closed the door, sighing. Logan left without a kiss. Why was she so upset about it? Rolling her eyes, Y/N walked to the bathroom. She needed to shower the last three unconscious days and a fight where she came face to face with her mother.
. . .
It was ten in the evening. The whole school was silent. The students were in their rooms, already asleep. During school days, they all had to be in their dorms before nine.
Y/N was inside her room the whole time. After a long hot shower, she changed into fresh clothes. She then fell asleep on her bed for a few hours. Her body was tired. It called for a nap. Now, she was sitting on the bed, finishing a French braid. Y/N could smell the coconut shampoo on her body. Her mind kept wandering to Logan, her mother and back.
How is it that when something nice was happening, a shit from the past had to appear at the exact moment? Shaking her head, she tied the end of the braid with a rubber band.
There was a knock on the door. Before Y/N could open her mouth, the door slowly opened. Logan walked in, frowning. When he noticed her sitting on the bed, his face softened.
“What’s with the face?” she asked, grinning.
He closed the door behind him and approached the bed. “I was worried, okay?”
Y/N kneeled on the bed, laughing. “Aw, that is so sweet. The big bad Wolverine was worried about me.” Her eyes watched as he took a seat next to her. “I’m sorry for giving you wrinkles. I fell asleep after the shower.”
Logan huffed, nodding. And then, in a mere second, Logan grabbed her into his arms. One held her by the waist while the other was behind her neck. Their lips connected in a sloppy, passionate kiss. At this point, Y/N wasn’t even surprised by his sudden action. All she could do was think about him - his lips, his touch. Their tongues pressed together, mouths sliding hungrily. They got lost in their passion.
“I was worried about you,” said Logan when their lips disconnected. “I was going crazy watching you unconscious on that damn bed,” he admitted. “I’d be really pissed if something happened to you.”
Her finger gently stroked the bridge of his nose. “When I saw you with that collar, powerless, I knew I had to do anything to protect you. You became a simple mortal human being. It wasn’t nice to see you all wounded and defeated. I was worried that…”
Logan’s brows raised. “What?” he asked softly.
“We wouldn’t be able to start whatever it is between us,” she looked away.
Logan sat on the bed and brought her onto his lap. His hands held her by the hips, gripping them tightly. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts to his chest. “Oh, princess,” he sighed, staring into her eyes. They travelled to her lips. “Good thing we survived. We can now continue where we left off.”
Y/N felt the thrill rushing through her body. However, her face heated up. Suddenly, she was shy. Logan saw it all. One of his hands rested on her cheeks. “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart,” he chuckled.
Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. “Well, the last time I had something with a guy was over five years ago,” she made a face.
“We don’t have to…”
“But I want to,” she stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips. “I want to, Logan. I-” Her eyes scanned his green ones. There was something on her lips she wanted to say. It was too soon to confess. Y/N knew what she felt for him, but she didn’t allow herself to say it out loud. After she swallowed the truthful words, she said, “I want you.”
The air changed in the room. With a gentle touch, Logan traced the curves of her body, feeling the tremble of excitement beneath his fingertips. As their lips met in a tender kiss, they both felt the rush of passion surge through them, melting away any lingering doubts or inhibitions.
The first pieces of clothing were gone in mere seconds. Logan took off Y/N’s T-shirt, showing her exposed chest to his eyes. He licked his lips as his eyes observed her beautiful breasts. When Y/N took off Logan’s white tank top, her nails lightly scratched his chest, enjoying the feeling of him under her fingertips. Slowly, they undressed each other, savouring the unveiling of skin, each moment building the intensity of their connection.
Y/N expected that, at some point, Logan would become rougher and impatient. She was surprised when he took his time and didn’t rush things. His touches were gentle and loving as if she were a fragile doll that would break under his touch.
“You smell so good, princess,” he growled. His mouth wrapped around her hardened nipple and sucked on it. He was rewarded with a moan. He sucked on it, circled it with a tongue. When he let it with a pop, Logan looked at her, grinning. “Next time, I will fuck ya like the naughty girl I know you are.”
“Logan,” she whispered his name.
He continued to lavish attention on her breasts. His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, alternating between bites and licks that sent shivers down her spine. He loved how she responded to his attention – it only fueled his passion further.
The moans kept escaping Y/N’s lips after every touch, every stroke and lick. The sound of her moans and gasps filled the air, making Logan’s dick throb painfully.
He grabbed her by the waist and laid her down on the bed. He positioned himself between her legs. “What a beautiful view,” he commented, eyeing her naked upper body.
Her hands reached for the big belt he wore. Y/N unfastened it, unbuttoned the jeans and pulled down the zipper. She realised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Y/N’s brows raised up, and she grinned at him. She was met with his semi-hard length begging to be taken out of the jeans.“You like going commando?”
“I was in a hurry,” he said, grinning.
Y/N took him out, stroking him slowly from tip to base. She felt him twitch under her touch. He had a nice dick - perfect length, veiny, and he trimmed his pubic hair around his penis and balls. She heard him moan and curse under his nose.
“Fuck, baby girl,” his eyes rolled into the back of his head when she squeezed him harder. He stopped her movements. Logan took her hand off his throbbing member. He brought the hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I want to be inside of you.”
Logan took off his jeans while his eyes remained on Y/N’s movements. He followed her hands - how they reached for the hem of her shorts. She took off the fabric with panties, and she exposed her pussy for his eyes to see. “Fuck,” he growled.
Once they were both naked, Logan positioned himself at the entrance of her wet pussy, looking down at her face with a mix of determination and desire burning in his eyes. He ran his thumb along her clit, making her squirm.
One last kiss before he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed in. He watched Y/N’s reaction carefully, seeing the way her face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. “Shit,” he cursed. “So tight.”
He started to move slowly, allowing their bodies to become one. Logan didn’t want to hurt her. His eyes were locked with hers with every move he made. He wanted to take his time, to savour every moment of being inside her, feeling her surround him completely.
“Fuck,” she gasped. “Faster, Logan. Please.”
Hearing her pleas, Logan's feral instincts kicked in, and he responded by increasing the pace of his thrusts, driving into her tight pussy with forceful strokes. He watched her breasts bounce with every snap of his hips. “You are so fucking pretty like this,” he praised her.
Another loud moan escaped Y/N’s lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed him closer to her body, pressing her lips against his in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy and dirty, all tongue and teeth. One of his hands sneaked between their bodies. His thumb found her clit, and he started to toy with it.
Her walls clenched around his length. “Ah, fuck!” she gasped. “I’m so close.”
“Good, baby girl,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t hold up and come for me, pretty girl.”
He heard her cry out and felt her body tense as she approached climax. Logan increased the tempo of his movements even further, driving himself into her. He watched as Y/N reached her peak. Her eyes closed, walled gripped his cock tightly as waves of pleasure ran through her body.
Logan’s release followed a few seconds later. At the last moment, he pulled out and spilt his seed over her lower belly, grunting. “Ah, fuck, fuck,” he cursed.
Logan’s chest heaved with each laboured breath. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air around them as they lay there, spent and satisfied. Y/N turned her head to look at him. She watched as he breathed heavily. A smile appeared on her lips.
“Damn,” she whispered.
He turned his head, catching her eyes. Logan grinned at her. “That’s it?” he teased.
“I am speechless. Isn’t that enough?” Y/N winked at him. She rolled to her side, snuggling her naked body to his. Her fingers absentmindedly started to stroke his chest, brushing through some of the hairs.
Logan managed to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “How are you feeling?”
Her eyes locked with his. “Happy,” she replied simply.
“How about one more round?” he suggested.
Y/N smacked his chest playfully. “Insatiable man.”
He grabbed her hand and led it down his body to his hard length. Y/N wrapped her fingers around his cock. “What can I say. I can’t get enough of you.”
She giggled. “Cheezy. Fine, one more round.”
“This time, you will ride me, pretty girl.”
#Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x female rader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett x female reader smut#Wolverine x reader#Wolverine x female reader#Wolverine x reader smut#Wolverine x female reader smut#Marvel fanfiction#A touch of Hope#Logan Howlett smut
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Hi !
Can you do a Homelander x F!Reader with a blackmail situation ?
For the context, someone's blackmailing Reader to leave Homelander and because of the stress she did it when he was patrolling. Of course, Homelander wouldn't accept it and try to find her but he can't. So a few days later Vought brought him a new "girlfriend" to heal the pain Reader "created" only for them to (by mistake) imply that they are responsible for the departure of Reader. After dealing with the situation at Vought, he went looking for her again, eventually finding her at her favorite spot, where she was trying to forget Homelander.
You can change some parts if you want 😁
Thanks you if you do it ♥️❤️
Listen, Anon. LISTEN! I am grabbing you by the shoulders, I am gently shaking you, I am lovingly cupping your cheek and whispering, "Write the fic." - because it's clear that you've got the plot and I bet you've been daydreaming up the story route and I need you to write it. Spit out some bullet points. Scribble out a few scenes out of order, but write it!!
As I read this ask while rolling out of bed half awake and ran off in a slightly different direction while I brainstormed in the shower and I know you've got an idea there so WRITE IT!! So I can read it
Now have something similar, but not quite what you outlined. This kinda evolved into a companion/epilogue?? piece to Play With Fire, as Vought would have plenty of reason to not want Homelander dating a canned employee, especially if she's a fat little thing. Bad for the brand and all.
+1.5k words | Warning for violence/gore, Homelander can have a little murder. As a treat. Plus-Sized female reader, established relationship, no proofreading as I was possessed
The moment his boots drop onto the balcony and Homelander strides into the penthouse, he knows something is wrong.
First, there is the absence of you. Not just the lack of your body settled on the couch waiting for him as you often are, but everything you touched. The laptop you diligently type away at while working is gone. The vibrant throw pillows you insisted on getting to make the imposing couch more inviting are missing. The plush blanket you always coiled yourself into wasn't haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch as it always is when not in service. The lack of these items now makes the couch look barren and cold. Now Homelander can see how uninviting the whole thing looks.
There are other pieces of you missing as well. The trinkets and baubles you'd purchased on a whim and set about the penthouse, coloring the space with pieces of you. The discarded books, many with notes and dog-eared pages weren't haphazardly stuffed in strange places. Homelander would check the bedroom, but he knows the closet now has an empty space where your clothing hung.
There's a buzz starting up in his brain, an insistent worry that's setting his teeth on edge as Homelander's mind races across every possible reason why you're gone. You left him. Someone kidnapped you. You finally got tired of him. Someone stole you away. You hate him. Someone is hurting you. The buzzing grows in volume as Homelander's lip twitches up, feet taking him to pace across the floor before a movement in the corner of his eye cuts straight through the noise.
The buzzing goes silent. The colors are correct. Relief rushes over Homelander as he turns to face the figure in full. You, there you are and-
No. Homelander blinks, drawing back a step as he takes in the woman standing at the entrance of his penthouse. She has your hair color; the cut has been styled like yours, but the texture is off. She's got something close to your complexion, your eye color even, and she's wearing clothing in your usual manner of dress, but everything is wrong. For one, she's thinner. Homelander sneers.
The woman smiles, uncertain as her heart races like a rabbit against her ribs. "Hi." One word uttered and it's all wrong. That's not your voice. That's not your smile. There is no sunshine breaking across this woman's face as she looks at Homelander. Her expression is quiet and expectant, waiting. Anxious.
He inhales slowly, rolling his neck as Homelander clenches his fists at his side. The scent on the air is bitter. She's afraid. She should be.
"No, no, no. Who the fuck are you?" Homelander snaps out, across the room in two long strides and now she's gasping. Gasping because Homelander has his fingers about her throat, gloves creaking softly as his grip tightens and lifts her. "Who the fuck are you?" He repeats, barking the words out.
"I-I'm Vicky," She stammers out as Homelander eases up enough to let her breath and set her feet back on the floor. That rabbit heart is trying to burst free within the woman's chest now, beating all the louder. "Y-your er, new girlfriend...?" Her words end in a panicked squeak as the woman tries to shrink away.
"New- "Homelander cuts off as he stares at her, head tilted to the side and lip twitching as he digests this bit of information. He swallows and takes in a breath, reeling in his rage as his mind whirls. Vought had decided to replace you. Plucked up some stupid woman who only shares a similar color palette with you, but she isn't you. This woman is nowhere close to the beautiful creature you are.
Vought didn't approve of your secret relationship. They'd deemed you unmarketable. Not the image they wanted to project for the brand. Then there was the hope that Homelander would grow bored of you. To wait out his hyper-fixation on you. The months had crawled by and still Homelander kept you close. You'd moved in, burrowed yourself right into his life as Homelander wanted.
For some fucking stupid reason, Vought thought a replacement would distract him. As if he's a child, or a dumb dog they've swapped a toy out on.
"Vicky," Homelander smiles and it's the smile of a shark. All teeth and dead eyes. "How lovely," A purr now as Homelander slides his hand down her neck and brushes his thumb over her collarbone. Her smile is uncertain, but it's still there as she relaxes. The rabbit in her chest calms down. He digs his thumb in as Homelander sucks on his teeth.
Fucking idiot.
There's no warning when Homelander's fist buries itself into the woman's abdomen, only a wheezing hiss as the air is forced out of her. A wet sound follows under all that crunching and grinding of bone as Homelander twists his fist and pulls it back. He clicks his tongue, releasing the woman's corpse to topple across the floor.
Homelander exhales, puffing out his cheeks while looking down at his fist in mild disgust. The red leather hides fresh blood well, but he knows it'll congeal into a darker mess soon enough. Leaning over, he absently wipes it off on the fabric of the woman's sunshine colored dress. The sunshine would look better on you while the smeared red looks better on Vicky as far as Homelander is concerned.
It doesn’t take him long to hunt Ashley down, storming into her office with eyes flashing red. The only reason Homelander doesn’t fucking laser her in two is because she’s crying. Ashley is crying and blowing her nose into a tissue as she looks at Homelander, eyes filled with regret and tears. She’s grown fond of you, Homelander realizes and that’s reason enough not to cave her skull in. Homelander knows you like her well enough, too.
Ashley blubbers the story out. They’d wanted you gone. Out of the picture and out of his life. You were an uncontrollable variable that refused to play ball and Edgar wasn’t one for loose strings. A replacement had already been found and was on her way earlier this morning. While Homelander was out on a mission, disposing of you had been easy enough. It only took thirty minutes to pack all of your things, revoke your access to the building and effectively lock you out. Ashley had managed a helping hand in the form of a plane ticket wherever you wished, knowing you no longer rented your own apartment after moving in with Homelander.
It had been a plot against you, he knows this now but why had you gone so willingly? Why weren’t you screaming outside of Vought Tower for him? Why did you take that plane ticket? Something rotten wriggles within Homelander’s heart. He knows he’s not an easy creature to live with and has worn your patience thin some days. The start of your relationship would have been considered rocky at best and there’s all that stalking he did that you still don’t know about. They gave you an out and you took it.
His trip to the airport is swift and no one would dare try to stop the Homelander as he seeks you out at your intended gate. Except you’re not there. You’ve not even checked in yet. He goes to your old apartment next, eyes scanning the building for your form. Your favorite restaurant is next. Then the place that makes your favorite tea. After that he’s hovering above the bookstore you’ve dragged him to. None of them contain you.
Homelander is lost for a moment, mind frantic with worry now at where you could be. Then he remembers one of your favorite spots. A park close to where your old apartment is and it’s another place Homelander has been dragged to by you. This is a spot he enjoyed. It was quiet, even in such a bustling city. He always pretended it was a forest clearing you two were enjoying the peace of.
You’re there. Of course you are. You’re settled on a bench, head turned towards the trees as Homelander descends. “Sweetheart,” He growls. It comes out harsher than Homelander wants, but he’s on edge. Why did you leave him?
You jump, head snapping round and he can see you’ve been crying. Your eyes are puffy, face pinched in pain as Homelander’s heart seizes at the sight.
“What!?” You stare a beat, before anger rises. You’ve always been his little spitfire. “You had me cast out! They packed me up and kicked me out on your orders! You- You abandoned me…!” The fire smolders and dies as tears leak down your face.
"No, no, no. Not you, never you!" In an instant, all of Homelander's rage vanishes in the face of your sorrow. How could you ever want to leave his side? Foolish of him to even think it. Why would you ever want to leave? He’s beside you, he’s gathering you up in his arms, he’s crushing you gently in his hold. Your sobs are wet, loud, and there’s snot on his suit. Homelander doesn’t care. He shushes you, fingers combing through your hair as the arm about your middle squeezes just a bit tighter. The weight of you sinking against him and into him is a comfort, your flesh yielding under his grip on you.
“I came home and you were gone,” Homelander whispers against your ear as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply, all of the tension leaving his body as he takes in your scent. “But I’m here now. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He exhales, pulling back enough to look down at you.
Homelander smiles. You’re here, you’re safe, he will never ever let you out of his sight again.
#homelander#homelander x reader#the boys fanfic#homelander writing#homelander x you#homelander x f!reader#homelander x plus sized reader#canon x you#🍵 play with fire#Yandere Homelander is my fav Homelander#you're never allowed to leave#ANON WRITE THE FIC#anon ask#ask#FUCK I DIDNT EVEN WRITE THE BLACKMAIL PART#ANON I NEED YOU TO WRITE THAT FIC SO I CAN READ IT#task failed successfully??
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Define Close
♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?
CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, afab!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot, mentions of reader having hair long enough to be played with
Author’s note: last one! i hope this non-plot fic was all right! it doesnt feel like it fully counted as a five-part story just because it doesn't feel like anything really happened besides... you know, a lot of hugging. anyways. enjoy!
Wordcount: 3.9K
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
When Joe woke up the next morning, all promises he made to himself the night before had vanished. Like promises people made late at night in bed were wont to do.
I’ll start on Monday.
I’ll wake up early, do it in the morning.
Thing’s will be different when the sun rises.
They never were.
He didn’t know why he thought it would be different this time. Sure, he still thought it wasn’t exactly normal to wake up with his flatmate’s face pressed into his chest, but why would he risk doing anything that was going to change that?
You kept his bed warm. Satisfied his tactile nature. Filled something hollow within him which he didn’t realise was empty before. And in moments like these, he could tell it was spilling over. Making mess inside his chest.
Joe wanted to know why it never felt invasive.
He tried to think back how he got here.
Where it all began.
How it had evolved.
And why it never felt weird. Why you never needed to talk about any of it, words completely unnecessary. Why the only two words ever spoken about it, your wild and insane “Thank you.” felt like the most disgusting overkill of verbal communication Joe had ever experienced.
The two of you were just bad with words, he decided.
Joe felt how you stretched a leg, one that was still stuck between two of his, and carefully held you a little tighter until he felt you fully relax again.
Good.
You weren’t allowed to wake up yet.
Morning sun softly lit Joe’s room through the cracks in his curtains and, Joe knew it was a Sunday, but it also felt like a Sunday.
Nothing planned for the day. Hours of nothing that stretched out before him, time he got to fill with whatever felt right in the moment.
And right now, delaying waking up felt right.
He could pretend to ignore all the things that stirred inside. The questions. The uncertainties.
He could pretend to ignore the bodily reactions you were responsible for. He had done so for ages. Had gotten real good at pretending.
But he wondered if you knew.
If you felt the same stirring he felt.
If you could see it.
If you also sometimes blew off your friends, just to hang out at home. If you also wished the friends you had over would just fucking leave already when you’d feel drowsy after a big meal. If you also sometimes had a hard time falling back asleep after waking up at random hours, just because you had to deal with a lot of disappointment at being alone.
He shouldn’t ask for more.
He was getting plenty.
Right here. Right now.
Joe pulled a blanket of appreciation all the way over himself, and he felt full. Logically understood he wouldn’t have it forever, so he best really focus on the right here and the right now, and push any other thoughts aside.
He tried to focus on every part of your body that touched parts of his body until he located your heartbeat, and then focussed on that until he fell asleep again.
When he woke up about 45 minutes later, it was to your fingers lightly stroking his face that slowly tickled him awake.
You trailed a finger tip down his nose and when you pulled away, Joe tipped his head back a little, chasing your touch. It drew your eye to a little red patch underneath his chin.
“You’ve got a…” you started, voice barely there, throat full of sleep still. Joe felt how you scratched at his skin a little, and stuck his chin out more to help give you a better look.
“Does this hurt?” you asked all innocently before pressing a sharp nail into the soft flesh just past his jawline.
“Ow,” Joe cried, flinching away into his pillow more, immediately far more awake than he wanted to be. “Jesus Christ, good morning, what the...” Joe huffed a laugh, and you hid your face into his armpit to hide your own smile.
Just for a second.
When you moved your head back onto his chest, Joe rubbed at where you poked him.
“You’ve got an ingrown hair,” you used a finger to move his aside and pulled the skin taught for a better look. Joe’s hand moved to hold you by the wrist, making sure he could pull you away the second you’d try some of that bullshit again.
But instead, you took hold of his chin and moved his head to the side, inspecting the whole area closely.
Your intense attention made Joe grow shy, and you saw how a blush crept up his neck from up close. He tried to brave through, tried his best to not tuck his chin in and trap your fingers there.
But then you did it for him, moved his face by the chin and let your eyes trail up his jaw, over his sideburns and up into his hair.
Joe felt a little timid, not sure if he was mentally even fully awake yet, face heating up under your soft gaze.
He realised you’d never done this before. Usually, when you’d wake up next to each other, you’d blink your bleary eyes, have a look around his bedroom and get up and out. Leave his room without another word shared. Leave him alone, all by himself. This was the first time you’d stayed in his bed a little longer. Lazed around and woke up slow.
It was nice.
Your chin pressed into his chest felt nice.
The weight of your thigh that rested over his hip felt nice.
All this innocent soft attention in your shared warmth felt nice.
“Hmm, you’re so warm,” Joe whispered, because you were, and it felt nice.
It was all so nice.
Your eyes roaming his features was maybe a bit much, seeing as you were quite literally able to count his pores, you were so close.
But it was still nice.
You’d created this bubble of blissful contentment together and Joe let himself drown into the right here and right now of it all.
Joe loved it in the bubble.
Would trap you in this bubble with him forever, if he could.
But his cheeks were blushing so hard, and he stared up at the ceiling in hopes of making it stop. In your next move, you let go of his chin and raised a hand up to his hair where three fingers disappeared into his hairline for a second.
Just for a literal second, though.
“You need to wash your hair.” you said dryly and moved to sit up.
Joe groaned a little.
You’d popped the bubble.
Just like that.
It was like reality got shoved right into his face as you sat up and he almost went and pulled right back in. Right back into his chest, into that bubble, where everything sparkled, and tingled, and went fuzzy around the edges.
But alas. You were already gone.
When you later met in your living area, everything was sort of back to normal. All casual. Like you hadn’t just spent another night wrapped up in bed together, parts of bodies close to other parts of bodies that they had no right being so close to.
You were flatmates, for fuck’s sake.
And sure, you were a different kind of flatmate to each other than your average run-of-the-mill flatmate. But still, how were you only just flatmates to each other still?
No lingering awkwardness.
Never an embarrassing moment.
Just a, “We’re out of dishwasher tablets,” as you grabbed the last one and showed him the empty cardboard box.
Followed by a, “Do you want some coffee?” and a neutral face thrown his way.
Like you were talking to your mum.
“Yea,” Joe answered, and tried showing as much indifference as he could in return. “Coffee sounds lovely.”
And that was that. Once again. Just flatmates.
Joe pretended all was fine. Pretended it was fine how you never talked about any of it.
He didn’t really have the right to complain, he thought. Because he still got to reach hands across and squeeze your arm in thanks when you passed him a drink, and you weren’t weirded out by that.
He still got to sometimes come home and see your charming little pouty face and know he’d get to hug you all night long, and you didn’t deny him the snuggles.
And still, if it got really bad, you’d cry and he’d find you and comfort you until you stopped crying, and then he’d make a stupid joke and you’d laugh and, are you fucking joking, he’d be left on cloud nine for a days.
To be able to get you from tears into giggles with just a couple of wrapping arms, and stroking hands, and silly comments?
Did you even know what that did to him?
Joe thought he’d gotten a weird sort of sixth sense for it now. He could snuff out your mood just from the sounds of how you’d walk in after work. Knew exactly what the evening was going to look like from the way that you were breathing. Could sniff it out like a bloodhound, he was that tuned in.
Unhealthy?
Maybe.
But he loved it too much to really do anything about it.
Even when you started pulling away a little again, like you’d done before. Would walk in sort of happy and pleased and would just make yourself a large salad for dinner before you’d go for a quick drink with friends.
It sent him down that same fucking spiral.
Why was he upset his flatmate was no longer upset so often?
How in the world was he even going to begin to unpack that?
Joe didn’t want to admit to anything, because you didn’t talk about anything, but it affected him plenty. He still got to squeeze your shoulder, and poke you in the side, and sometimes massage a socked foot when you did end up on the sofa together, but... fuck it. Joe wanted your body pressed all up against his, every night, and if he had it his way, not just on the sofa but then also in his bed right after.
He let it build.
He let it build up far too high until, one strange afternoon, it all tumbled down.
He’d been moping around since earlier that morning. Had to get some work done but just grew more and more annoyed and he didn’t really know how to articulate what it was. Was it you? Or was it him? Or was it something else entirely, and was this just easier to be upset with because it was on his mind so often?
He kind of didn’t even want to figure it out.
Just wanted to be annoyed.
And then you’d walked in, and he could hear. He frowned and listened and... yep. That sounded just about right.
Joe was stood in the kitchen when you stepped into the room and for a moment, you just looked at each other.
You expected things to go how they usually went when you walked in the way you’d just done.
If Joe was in, he’d find you and hold your face to make you look at how he empathetically mimicked your pout and knitted eyebrows before he hugged you tight and whispered all sorts of things about pizza toppings into your ear.
If Joe was in, he never even needed to take a proper look at you to know you’d needed tending to. Which is what he’d then always do.
He’d find you, and tend to you until you no longer needed tending to, and yet, now...
Now, he wasn’t really doing anything.
And you never talked.
But, then... now what?
Joe just looked at you, leant into his shoulders as his hands rested on the black shiny countertop of the island and seemed irritated.
Kind of angry.
This was new.
Different.
Needed different approach.
So...
“You all right?”
For a moment you thought that maybe Joe was mad with you, with the way his face read thunder as he took a moment to answer that question. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.
But then he sighed, and his expression softened slightly before he shrugged and answered, “Define all right.”
“Cool, me neither. Come sit.”
For a split second, Joe thought, no. Let’s keep distance and talk for a change.
But before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him over to the sofa where you waited for him to sit down first, which he then simply just did.
Joe let himself fall back into the sofa and kept his arms slightly open, knowing you were likely going to drop down right next to him.
But you didn’t want to just let Joe hug you, this time.
Joe looked like he needed to be hugged himself just as much.
Maybe even more than you, you thought.
So instead, you climbed onto the sofa feet first, sat down next to him but faced into him, and draped both arms around his neck, pushing your cheek against his in a tight hug. Your knees dug into the back of the sofa a little uncomfortably, and it was like Joe could tell, because he shimmied a little until you both sighed and sagged into each other.
You felt Joe hug you back, arms around your waist and flat palms spread around your sides. It almost felt like his arms looped around you twice as he pulled you tightly into him.
It was wild how Joe could feel his bad mood drain from his body, and he wondered if this was how you always felt. If Joe’s embraces did the same to you.
You sat like that for a while, sometimes unsticking cheek from cheek to find a better bit of skin to press your face into.
You sat like that until Joe felt his annoyance make way for something else to shine through.
This would usually be the moment he’d make a joke. A little comment that would make you laugh, even if you didn’t want to and tried to hide it, but Joe could always feel how the muscles in your stomach tensed in his small moment of victory.
Not this time.
And it was silly, because you were waiting for it too.
For Joe to make light of something heavy. Because he was so good at making light of all things heavy.
But nothing really came.
You felt how Joe moved his face down and found the crook of your neck to bury his nose into. Maybe he was actually crying. You weren’t sure. But just in case, you used soothing fingers to swipe across his shoulders, across where they could reach, and you felt Joe’d head grow heavier as he relaxed more.
“Better?” you asked softly, and Joe just hummed in confirmation.
Something euphoric bubbled up inside you.
Success.
Then Joe moved his head up and you thought it was maybe to press it against the side of yours once again, but instead he got it right in front of yours and let your foreheads touch. Let your noses bump.
You weren’t sure what happened between the surge of elation and your noses touching, but suddenly, you kind of felt like crying again. Felt the dark mood you’d been in when you walked in a little earlier return.
But it didn’t feel like this moment was really about you, for once.
So you just... stayed there. Stayed put. Kept your eyes closed, and let your noses touch, and hoped that whatever you were doing was at least making Joe feel better.
“Is this helping?” you whispered, and Joe felt it against his mouth.
In turn, he sighed, and you felt that against yours before he answered, “Yea.”
His arms squeezed tighter and you tried thinking of a time where you’d been closer than this. If this counted as the closest you’d ever been.
And then you felt his nose run up along the side of yours before moving down the other side of it and, probably. This was probably the closest you’d ever been.
“Yea,” he said again, and then followed it up with, “You’re not going anywhere.”
The slightly higher pitch of his voice made Joe sound like he was crying. You checked, kind of had to check, and moved back slightly to have a look.
But he wasn’t crying. Seemed wildly wrecked in a different way. One slightly foreign to you. It made you furrow your brow in confusion, because, what did he mean, ‘you’re not going anywhere’?
You weren’t going anywhere.
You never did.
You shared a flat together and you were always there.
Joe saw how you tried to make sense of his words in real time, up close, and it made sense to him that you didn’t immediately get it. You never used actual words together. Of course this was going to take you a second. He understood. But still. It was fucking annoying that you didn’t.
Joe had to look away for a second, to stare at the wall on the other side of the room as he leant back into the sofa more, arms sliding down your back as he did.
With his head tilted back onto the backrest, he carefully started, “You know…” and then took another moment to think. Because, what did you know?
You waited, mostly because you were unsure of what else to do.
You and Joe didn’t talk. Didn’t ask questions. Just... you just were. Were how you were.
So you waited, and saw Joe’s eyes wander down to the collar of your top where he took one of the unbuttoned buttons in between his fingers to play with.
“I don’t think I can… I might not have the strength,”
Never talking also meant you’d not practiced listening. And Joe made listening difficult, because as he fidgeted with your collar, you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting to a bicep. You concluded his top was too tight around the arms, and let your eyes linger there, because it looked nice.
A flex of the muscle brought you back to him.
For a small moment, you made eye-contact and you realised you were too close.
“When are you going to… when will you see it?” Joe pressed, ducking his head to force eye-contact as you tried moving back a little. His voice remained soft, words almost cautious as they found your ears.
You didn’t really have a response.
“I’m not…” you began, thinking you’d find out what exactly you weren’t along the way, but you faltered.
You had no idea what you weren’t. Had no idea what to say.
“I’m not…” you tried again.
Still didn’t get any further. Not good with words, you thought to yourself. Why was Joe making you talk?
You never talked.
But Joe waited, just like you’d waited for him before. Gave you time to find the right way to articulate whatever was going on inside your mind.
And he shouldn’t have.
You suddenly inhaled sharply and created more distance between the two of you as you said, “I’m not really hungry.”
“I–... what?”
You got up from the sofa.
“If you want a pizza, you’re going to have to eat the whole thing yourself I’m afraid. I think we’ve got some– yea, there’s at least two in the freezer still,”
“But–...”
You were already on your way to show him.
“Tandoori chicken and, um, one with mushrooms, I think, I got them last week, unless you’ve already had them, they should be in there...”
Joe couldn’t fucking believe it.
You were... you were being awkward.
Being all weird.
Had he made things awkward and weird? By talking?
Surely, that couldn’t be the case.
He watched you nervously fight with a freezer drawer that didn’t seem to want to budge for a second, until it did, and you yanked it all the way out. Made it clatter against the tiles.
Oh, it was absolutely the case.
“Fuck– sorry,” you near-violently shoved it back into its slot, and the sound of plastic sliding across ice made his skin crawl.
“Hey,” Joe was already up on his feet.
“Yea, see? Chicken and garlic mushroom, you can have–”
“Hey, hey, stop.” Joe rounded the island, got you by the arms and turned you away from the freezer.
“If you want–”
“I said, stop.”
You then did stop. Let Joe close the freezer door as you closed your eyes and exhaled through flared nostrils.
Joe studied your face, confused and worried by what the fuck had just happened. How you’d gone from lovingly embracing each other on the sofa until you’d both left each other’s shapes across your fronts like you were memory foam, to suddenly this weird, embarrassing, panicky state in the kitchen.
Words.
“It’s okay if you don’t–” Joe started, wanting to tell you it was fine if you didn’t want to talk, but this time you cut him off. Said, “Joe, please,” in a wobbly voice, because you did want what Joe meant earlier. You did see it. Did want that.
But you were flatmates.
Joe moved his hands and cupped your face.
It made you open your eyes and you immediately wished you hadn’t.
His eyes were so fucking expressive, they kind of bore all.
It was weird to want to look away just as much as you wanted to keep this connection with him, and you moved your hands to hold onto his wrists so that, even if you did end up looking away, he at least wouldn’t let go of you.
You watched his eyes flick between yours before they flicked down at your mouth.
It made you do the same, and, shit.
No.
You were flatmates.
But then Joe leant a little closer, and you didn’t move away. Did the opposite in fact.
Joe let your foreheads touch once more, and allowed the two of you to be close again.
You were the worst at talking.
Never talked.
But, fuck, you were so good at being close.
Joe knew that he was going to have to let everything else do the talking. Like it had always done, up until now. He just... he needed to articulate a little clearer, that was all.
You lifted your chin slightly, just enough to nuzzle. To press your nose against his and for a brief moment, you moved like you were kissing, but your lips didn’t touch.
“Joe,” you breathed, sounding unsure, and Joe stilled for a second. “We’re flatmates.”
And God, if that same exact thought hadn’t kept him from ever moving past where you were right this second.
“Yea,” he agreed in a whisper.
You were flatmates.
But then you let a hand move up to his neck, and Joe copied the move. Got you by the base of the skull and tested to see if he could guide you to tip your head the way he wanted it to tip.
You easily let him.
Lips brushed. Only briefly. No one flinched or moved back, and Joe hovered right in front until he felt your fingers pull him closer.
“But we’re close.”
the end
---
The Taglisted
@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo
taglist currently full, sorry
#Joseph Quinn#Joe Quinn x You#Joseph Quinn x You#Joe Quinn x Reader#Joseph Quinn x Reader#Joe Quinn Fanfic#Joe Quinn fanfiction#Joseph Quinn Fanfic#Joseph Quinn Fanfiction#joe quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x y/n#icallhimjoey#define close
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Bonus note relating to that fantasy culture post I reblogged.
You know what really helps build up fantasy cultures? Making them interact.
Here is my most extreme example: my orcs, descended from a species of pack-hunting wild boar type animals, and my centaurs, chalicotheres that evolved a very weirdly consistent form of chimeric twin body shape.
The ancestors of the orcs used to hunt the ancestors of the centaurs. They were basically the only major predator of that species. This began long long before either group could ever be considered "people" but only stopped after both groups evolved equal levels of sapience and had many violent conflicts over it.
The centaurs defended themselves more and more, the orcs got more clever with their hunting, and then at some point they were no longer animals but all people, and what was once a dynamic of predator and prey became a dynamic of enemies at war.
The orcs surrendered. They abandoned their ancestral lands, conceding to the centaurs. They lost a lot of their culture, most of their important heirlooms, because so much of their ancestral history was so deeply centered on following their migrating prey and treating them as a sacred animal and using their hides and bones.
But that prey is a people now, and it is so very obviously the wrong choice to cling to that old culture. They had to start over.
And the centaurs became an isolated people, keeping everyone out, orc or otherwise.
Generations later, can they ever reconcile their past? Can they draw a line between animal and people and forgive the morally neutral act of simple predators hunting simple prey? When did it cross that line? Can these two opposed groups become friendly, after all that happened?
And then their cultures actually have a lot of similarities that happened to come from different roots.
The orcs are warrior folk who live in family groups and practice ancestral veneration.
So are the centaurs.
But the orcs are like that because they're descended from pack-hunting predators, while the centaurs are like that because they were the migrating herds of prey trying to defend themselves.
By having both of these groups in the story, even if they're not entirely central to the plot, I've already created a dynamic that makes the whole world feel more alive and occupied and gives it a history beyond the main characters and their own lives.
Following the plot, only focusing on worldbuilding that is plot relevant, that's all well and good and I encourage it! You don't want your story to drown in your worldbuilding. But man, it is so much fun to add those extra details and create connections between your people groups that extend far beyond the actual plot and the main characters. I think it can really make the world more immersive.
Sometimes I read fantasy, and it feels like the worldbuilding is shallow and flat, only there if it serves the one major plot line. It's like the rest of the world doesn't even exist. And I get it, I understand the tight focus, I know why so many people only want to write the small handful of characters and only stick to details that are plot relevant.
I just also really really love stories where the world itself is full and alive and you can see where there could be many many more stories to tell beyond the limited perspectives of the main characters.
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Writing Tips for Every Age and Mental State
Not every piece of writing advice will apply to you — and that’s okay! Sometimes, your writing strategies will change as you go through life or learn more about yourself. NaNo Participant Clara Ward shares writing advice that they've learned over time.
There’s no right way to write. Writing—like life—is about finding your best fit. What follows are tricks that worked for me. Please borrow what works best for you right now. (Then save a few ideas for future you!)
I wrote my first novel four decades ago, when I was thirteen. I’ve written while juggling three jobs or zero. I’ve written as a kid, a parent, and an empty-nester. I’ve learned from my own neurodiversity and mental health challenges along the way.
Each struggle taught me how to customize my writing practice. Here’s a list of what worked for me at different stages. Adapt as you see fit.
Stage 1: Meet Yourself Where You’re At
Outline - For my first novel, I sketched furtive notes on the back pages of a school notebook. I created headings for each page that became section or chapter titles later. Numbers helped me order the scenes and letters delineated details.
Note: Leave extra space for fun facts or snippets of overheard dialog. Years later, I heard a NaNoWriMo buddy joke, “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.” My apologies to my high school geometry teacher, who received no such warning.
Avoid Distractions - I needed a closed door to write at first. I couldn’t read other fiction during the week or two when I frantically converted my outline into a rough draft. Luckily, I wasn’t in charge of meals back then!
Stage 2: Find Your People
Give Yourself Permission - I first heard about NaNoWriMo in 2004, when I was parenting, working, and volunteering as if there were two extra days in each week. I hadn’t written a story, an outline, or notes in over a year, but I knew exactly what I wanted to write. I signed up for NaNoWriMo and opened a family meeting by showing the webpage to my spouse and kids. I explained how I’d budget four hours a week for writing in November.
Note: I didn’t complete 50,000 words that first November. But the next year, my kids enthusiastically joined the Young Writers Program!
Enlist Support - Eventually, my kids and I designated one hour each day for writing. There were many distractions, but it felt great! We attended NaNoWriMo write-ins at a donut shop to build community, and my kids each persuaded a friend to join. (Yes, donuts are a sometimes food, but at least they weren’t asking for coffee!). With support and determination—and for me, a bit of sleep debt—we all met our writing goals most years!
Stage 3: Embrace Your True Strengths
Emotion Mapping - In the last couple decades, as attitudes and terminology evolved, I’ve learned a lot about my own neurodivergence and mental health. Oddly enough, the self-knowledge I gained by masking and compensating before I knew those words, informed both my writing and the tips given above. As I became more honest with myself, I brought more emotion to my writing.
Note: Sometimes it helps to skip scenes I’m not in a good headspace to write. I jot down key plot and character points inside curly brackets and skip to a scene that suits my current feelings. Since I don’t used curly brackets anywhere else in my writing, they’re easy to search for when I’m ready to go back.
Fascinations - After years of being warned about “info dumps,” I realized that my own fascinations (neurodivergent or otherwise) were assets that could serve my writing. At the beginning of 2020 I did a deep dive into researching sea creatures and ways to protect our oceans. At the back of my research notebook, I gradually outlined my 2020 NaNoWriMo Novel, Be the Sea. Parts of that outline cross-referenced pages of ocean research or articles I’d saved online.
Note: The system above worked well enough for me that I now have a book deal for Be the Sea, which will be published by Atthis Arts in early 2024!
Seriously though, this isn’t a post about how to get published on a 40-year plan. By matching your writing practices to your ever-changing self, you give all your stories the chance to be told. I wish you and your stories that success!
Clara Ward lives in Silicon Valley on the border between reality and speculative fiction. When not using words to teach or tell stories, Clara uses wood, fiber, and glass to make practical or completely impractical objects. Their short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Decoded Pride, The Arcanist, and as a postcard from Thinking Ink Press. Clara’s 2020 NaNoWriMo novel, Be the Sea, will be available from Atthis Arts in early 2024. For updates on this and other projects, follow Clara on their website.
Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva from Pexels
#nanowrimo#writing#writing advice#writer's life#neurodivergent writers#for parents#inspiration#by nano guest#clara ward
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Hello everyone :>
It's been a month! it's incredible how much my life has changed- while I'm still adjusting I'm just...still walking on clouds. it feels unreal. the patreon took off and I can almost make a living wage on it which is frankly fucking insane, and the discord is so vibrant it scared me for a moment (not anymore- shooting the shit with the people there is the favorite part of my day, even if I sometimes just leave a trail of emotes lskjdhajksdhkjasd.) I couldn't have asked for a better community. YES I am crying about it. Thank you, so, so much. I am cradling your face in my hands. crying.
But as always, enough of my bleeding heart. Let's get to it!
The first two weeks after posting the update, I took a sort of quasi vacation and only wrote a handful of story-words each day, and spent some time fooling around in the discord + brushed off my smut archive to refine for Patreon. There are already 4 stories up, and a new one coming tomorrow- though I haven't decided yet whether it will be possessive/jealous L sfw short or one very nasty short where you come across a particularly insistent species of vines while trekking the forest. hehe. we'll see. >:3
But, even though I had to rest not to combust after work, I am very pleased to say that the next chapter is coming along great, with the skeleton finished for its entirety, and about 45% and some change already written (it's very hard to gauge because I jump around a lot when I write.) This is the final chapter before the forest, filled with action and the heart wrenching drama of offering tenderness to a certain someone, and deciding for your hunter when enough is truly enough. I have teared up writing certain scenes and I genuinely cannot wait for you to experience this next part yourselves.
It is so funny reading things I wrote for this chapter six months ago, or longer, because I knew exactly what emotions I wanted to bake in and couldn't really nail it, but now it is coming together beautifully! Sure, it will still be wonky first draft writing, but the core is there and that is all that matters for now. I'm saying soon™ for the update for now, because I am allowing myself to adapt to writing full time- I didn't quit my job to become my own nightmare boss, and I truly want to enjoy this process. I think, in the long run, it will result in a better story. Patience is my mantra. All in due time- I cannot force quality creative work. But by everything wretched and sinful, I cannot wait to share this next part with you!!! I'm frothing at the mouth!!!
In other news, y'all. I need to get organized. I get heartburn thinking about all the different variations of files and notes and notebooks and scraps of paper and variables and branches of plot and just generally, the things to keep track of is getting to the point of a dragon hoard of scary 'oh no I forgot about that part'. I'm gritting my teeth through it until this chapter is out, but after it, I am going to spend some time to
1) get my shit together in gorgeous, beautiful spreadsheets
2) get serious about finding beta- and proofreaders. (me @ u: 🥺)
But that's it, my friends! I scrapped an entire progress report because I started sounded corporate and listing points which was just... sad. I really hope I evolve into writing these in a more fun way, which would make them more fun for you to read too! But for now, I think this will do. I hope you have a beautiful day/night, and if you would like to see more in depth dev-logs of my writing life, or random sneak peeks, I post those weekly on patreon!
Or join our discord, which. It's just the nicest place, I can't even come up with words that do it justice. It's my favorite daily newspaper.
Until next time! x
#OUROBOROS#ouroboros-if#interactive fiction#dev log#progress report#im scuttling off to finish character moodboards now like a gremlin#i am wholly soaked and immersed in the world of ouro and that just feels... so nice. I never want to leave#on asks: sorry they have taken low priority while I adapt to everything happening. I read every single one and smile and laugh and ponder#but when it comes to actually answering my words just stop working. its a soup up there#send thots and prayers 😔#(or come join the discord where I answer questions with gusto on the daily)
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Dave’s old life is cast aside and he is reborn (semi-literally) as a star child. It is an ending that has left many baffled, including me, but is ultimately a touching end and beginning.
Dave ends the story an evolved being, yet not so far detached from his human origin. He still has a great deal of emotion and curiosity - he becomes a baby because he simply is one when it comes to understanding the universe. He could go anywhere, do anything and yet he goes to earth. He goes and watches over it like a shiny toy, while his physical ties have been severed he’s still attached to it- almost like a mother, if we stay with the baby metaphor.
Eventually he will move on from it but for now he is a protector of sorts. The guardian of earth. He stops the bomb not for his own sake but because he simply wants humanity to continue on- he stops a potential doomsday!
It’s too bad this is completely uprooted in the following bits of the series. He is “beyond” emotion, he is on Europa. I would be fine if the evolution or planet was focused on even remotely besides the same few paragraphs, he’s transformed and cast aside. All of the prior meaning is rebuked, all of his humanity removed. See it wasn’t the transformation that did it but the story itself— as it decided to pivot and couldn’t just have him watching. He must be a blank slate. He must be elsewhere- he can’t even enjoy watching the other planet or if he does we don’t really hear of it.
Dave becomes more of a plot device than a person, as a star child there’s so many facinating things you could do with him. For one thing a dressing the trauma that came from that and before, and — again either guardian of earth - self chosen- or we actually see his involvement elsewhere. He becomes a just as much of a tool as the monolith.
Not only is his humanity stripped but his agency, in 2010 he describes himself as a dog on a leash a good number of times. While I absolutely adore that metaphor, it’s so tragic and not even acknowledged as such?! (Again so much could be considered cosmic horror and it’s either had waved or blankly accepted) he went from a near omnipotent being to LOSING LARGE CHUNKS OF TIME AND BEING USED AS A PROBE. He’s suddenly beyond humanity when he was so attached before; he becomes apathetic incredibly fast. (Which, as a immortal being is understandable but it’s absolutely unearned and not in character) -> my issue isn’t with him becoming a tool of some higher power it’s that it’s sort of hand waved “it is how it is” and not addressed how messed up and interesting it is.
Now I’ve yet to read 3001 but my point here broadly stands. I fully believe it should’ve ended after 2010, as it comes across as very very clear it was a two book story and 2061 is a whole separate one with some characters tossed into it.
Arcs were over. There was a bit more explanation as to what happened in the first one; we got closure alongside Heywood. Things were set up for the future but it was more in a way for you to view them as fully developed not exactly a sequel. (Like the Hal 10,000 idea). It’s frustrating because Dave as a Starchild can lead to so many interesting things and it was a beautiful idea in 2001 but … after that it mistreats and mischarectetizes Him so fast in a way that frustrates me to no end. Maybe if there was an actual focus or exploration I could understand the direction but making him a cut out god figure is such a sad end.
A child of the stars still clinging to its former life, its humanity…
Oh what could have been. I’d like to imagine Dave would’ve never completely… not been Dave, yes over centuries he may subdue emotions, his interest may waver but what we get is a name and maybe some memory.
—
Clarification:
I fully enjoy 2010, my issues with Dave in that are minimal just that it’s a little sad he swaps guardianship but I can understand. I was excited and interested in Europa… only for that too also get sort of ignored.
There’s also some interesting points to come out of 2061 - how the monolith works, conversing with Hal and he does seem to have a genuine interest in study but it’s also where he’s sort of a name drop and little else
It’s the stripping him of his emotion and character that really gets me - as it’s a route that isn’t earned as Clark absolutely does not write about trauma or if he does it’s a off handed “ok so everyone dying and the monolith was a little scary but now I’m blue and don’t care” it’s even true for human characters idk
I pick and choose what I want to keep from the further books honestly, we’ll see if 3001 fixes this or if this rant grows longer. I’m just sad, Dave’s such a fascinating character and he’s so mistreated?
#2001 a space odyssey#2001 aso#2010 the year we make contact#2061 odyssey three#3001 the final odyssey#dave bowman#David bowman#2001 meta#fandom essay#rant#ramble#space odyssey series#space odyssey books#arthur c clarke
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Sorry, but I need to say something I've been thinking about for a while. I found geto's death forcing. 1.he loses to a boy with no experience and the power of ''love''. 2.he was stronger and had more knowledge and experience than the boy yuta. 3. It seems that the author just wanted to get rid of geto so that this annoying villain Kenjaku could come. 4. In my opinion, Geto is the best villain. I don't understand why the author didn't want to continue with him. 5. His death was forced because Saturo already had a change in character and personality. What I'm trying to say is that in the film, Satura is already different, he's no longer that immature young man. 6. the serious work was much more dramatic if geto had survived saturo blow he would have become stronger and returned as a villain again with sukuna. Sorry if it's big, but I have these doubts that such a good and well-constructed character had a horrible ending and very little.
I have mixed feelings about this anon but first I'd clarify things point by point for you and then give my opinion if possible
1. Yuuta Okkotsu has a special grade curse, the queen of curses Rika, the power of "love" you speak tho it might sound cliché does fit here well and it was explained in the manga that love is considered the most twisted curse (if you saw the movie you'd have seen that gojo said this line to him too).
2. Yes sure geto had more experience and knowledge but yuuta is an acclaimed prodigy, his cursed technique is mimicry, rika was so scaringly powerful even before she fully evolved, geto KNEW that if he absorbed rika he'd have everything needed to form his "ideal world". He wasn't just any nobody who managed to get lucky.
3. Okay now here there are two reasons and I am trying my best to find words to explain it, yuuta was meant to be the original mc of jjk, he is the op character. Geto wanted rika (as I mentioned in the previous point) to accomplish his dream so if geto won that battle the story as whole would've taken a very different turn, we wouldn't need itadori and the whole first years and their stories. Remember how I said yuuta was supposed to the actual mc? Yeah that's were gege actually made changes so he could make a better and elaborate plot.
4. Geto Suguru was infact an amazing villain, yes. But you've also got to understand that he was sympathetic towards jujutsu sorcerers, he'd never risk harming them (his own last words being "I never hated anyone from jjk high") unless they're in his way. He had to die because we needed someone who'd go all out, no mercy to anyone, no regard and sympathy for anyone and that's exactly why we needed someone like kenjaku, who was equally powerful, evil and not shy to bring hell.
5. Geto's death had nothing to do with "changing gojo's personality", that change already happened after hidden inventory and premature death arc. His death was an important decision for future plot points (explaining why yuuji was special, sealing the strongest etc).
6. This is where I fully give my opinion, sure Suguru would've come back as stronger and even more powerful villain but would he have achieved what kenjaku did? Geto Suguru that we knew would choose any other route than sealing Gojo, he literally did not even try to protect himself and gave gojo a chance to kill him (during kfc breakup), he never attacked jujutsu high until yuuta happened, he worked with rejected sorcerers and never paired up with evil curses like hanami, jogo and mahito. So, to put it simply it was important part of plot that geto first turned evil and then died, that shaped so many important arcs of the manga and it was well thought out for long run. Sure it's sad and frustrating but that was one good writing move on gege's part and there's no denying that.
#okay that got super long but I hope this was clear enough I tried ny best to not confuse facts while explaining#i really suggest reading the manga!! that'd clarify so many of your doubts ngl#imagine me talking about good writing from gege now lol#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#ask#gojo satoru#geto suguru#satosugu#stsg
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Hello! I think you had a post about this before but I can't find it. Not really sure though. I have this probelm with picking ideas? When I work on a story I usually explore many different ideas for the plot but find myself stuck in choosing one. I quickly grow bored of what I came up with and start creating more... in the end I have too much, and can't decide what fits my story best. Then I procrastinate because I have too many notes to process and get overwhelmed...
Overwhelmed After Story Evolves Too Many Plots
Stories shouldn't naturally evolve through several different plots. If that's happening, there's probably one of the following goin on:
1 - You don't have a good grasp on how stories work. Stories aren't a random exploration of things happening. Stories are a cohesive sequence of related events through which the main characters react to and often resolve a conflict. That conflict may be internal (within the characters), external (within the characters' world), or both. The particular events and sequence of events in your story (story structure) depends on the type of story you're writing. Most stories (longer fiction in particular) follow basic story structure:
If your stories often evolve through multiple plots, it's because you didn't have a clear and solid conflict to begin with, or you didn't know how to explore your conflict effectively (via story structure) and you burned through it too fast. (See: Plot & Story Structure master list)
2 - You don't know why you're writing the story. There's always a reason we start writing a story in the first place. Nine out of ten times it's because we're hit with an idea and are inspired to follow it. But, believe it or not, most of the time there needs to be a greater purpose there. If you have a cohesive conflict and well developed plot, your story has a purpose in terms of what the characters get out of it. But what about what the reader gets out of it? Do you just want them to have a rip-roaring good time? Do you want them to feel like they've been sucked into the mystery with your investigator protagonist? Do you want them to feel less alone as someone whose experienced the same thing as your protagonist? Do you want them to feel seen or represented? Do you want them to walk away with some deep meaning or moral lesson? And what about you? What do you get out of this story as a writer? Are you writing it to explore an aspect of life, society, or a particular dynamic that is fascinating to you? Are you hoping of catharsis as you do a deep dive into an experience you yourself have lived through? Are you hoping to deliver a moral message that you feel is important to spread? Knowing not just what your characters get out of the story, but what your reader and yourself as the writer get out of the story is an important part of staying on track and staying motivated.
3 - You're chasing waterfalls, so-to-speak... meaning that rather than staying on track, you're leaving the plotted course in pursuit of prettier, more exciting things. Most of the time when this happens, it's because you're giving into the dopamine rush you feel when a new idea strikes.
Now, ideally you would write the idea down someplace safe, put it out of your mind, and put your focus back on your story. We do this every single day in life, because if we didn't, we couldn't go to school, have jobs, date, have social lives, raise children or animals... being a responsible human requires us to choose to do the thing we need to do rather than chase the sparkly fun things. If you have to leave for class in ten minutes but your favorite movie just started on TV, you have to make the choice to turn off the TV and go to class. You choose to stay on course rather than go off-track and do the fun thing.
However, many of us have a difficult time with these types of decisions for various reasons, such as neurodivergence, chronic illness, depression, mental illness, stress, and exhaustion. So, it's not always easy to make that choice, even when it just means taking the new and exciting idea and writing it down for later. One thing you can do in that case, though, is leave yourself a note in the current story about where you're headed next. What's the next moment, scene, or event you're going to write? Then, save it and set it aside and follow the new idea for a little bit by starting a new story. That way, you're not grafting this idea onto a story that already has its course plotted.
4. You need to be a "plotter". If you start out with a solid plot and story structure, you know what you want to get out of the story, and you're not letting yourself chase waterfalls, but you STILL can't keep your story to one plot, this is a pretty good sign that you need to be a "plotter." Now, there tends to be a little controversy over the whole "plotter" vs "pantser" thing, and that's mainly because everyone things their way is best and often forget there's actually a whole spectrum between plotting and pantsing. Either way, they're both a real thing, because some writers need to intricately plot their story down to timeline, scene list, glossaries, and bios, while others can just "write by the seat of their pants" and let the story develop as they right. Then, of course, there are writers who fall every which way in-between.
Some writers are inherently plotters or need some level of plotting in order to execute a story from beginning to end. Some can write with little to no planning at all. For some writers it depends on their phase of life or what they're specifically writing. But, if you find that your stories are always going off-track even if they're solid in your mind, you may need to do some solid plotting. Start by having a beginning to end written summary of the story and see if that's enough to keep you on track. If not, next time try the summary as well as a timeline of events. If that doesn't work, try the summary and timeline plus a scene list. And just keep adding things until you find the right amount of planning to keep you on track with your original idea.
Happy writing! I hope something here works for you!
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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!
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What’s your opinion on the Valentine’s Day storyline? specifically Tim being upset with Lucy and just how it was written in general?
Hi anon!
Thanks for the ask! I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you!
So I will admit my feelings have evolved a bit on this particular storyline especially in context of season 6 (which I am enjoying so far).
I'll start with my thoughts on the whole five-player-trade thing since those storylines were so intermingled (and apparently that whole thing is going to be the gift that keeps on giving 😂).
Side note: I still wish they would have just dealt with the repercussions of the whole TO/Rookie superior/subordinate thing directly instead of inventing all this sorcery when they could have just acknowledged the inherent misogyny and sexism they've already admitted exists.
We still could have had the cuteness of the group scene and all the plotting to find an opening for Tim without making Lucy out to be a manipulator.
But for whatever reason, they really didn't seem comfortable dealing with the power dynamic issues and repercussions head on, so now I guess we get to see Aaron try to date his therapist instead 😂😬
But at least it seems like they are trying to fix their framing this season by making it clear to the audience that Lucy is the one being wronged, so that's a good thing in my book even though it's hard to see her struggle.
So, after all that, you will be shocked to hear that I wasn't a huge fan of Lucy's choice to do the five-player-trade thing 😂.
I do understand why Tim was upset with her. I think doing what she did behind his back was a problem. Don't get me wrong, though -- they both failed majorly at adult communication 101 here.
Tim should have talked to her before he made the decision to switch positions. Had they discussed it, I don't think Lucy would have felt the same level of responsibility and pressure that she did to make sure Tim wouldn't be stuck in a role he hated. Mostly because she never would have agreed to him taking a desk position and they would have had to work together to come up with another solution. From there, the story could have unfolded very differently.
Tim made a choice behind her back that impacted their relationship, but only his career. Lucy went behind Tim's back and made a choice that ultimately impacted both of their careers.
But, at the end of the day, Tim 100% came out of the situation a winner. And Lucy is continuing to pay the price. As happy as I am that Tim finally acknowledged Primm's role in the outcome of Lucy's detective exam, I am actually pretty disappointed that we haven't seen any actual acknowledgement from him that Lucy is in the position she's in now specifically because she didn't want him to be unhappy.
Lucy's choices were her own, and now she's gotta live with that, but there's no question that she did what she did out of love. And it sucks that we haven't seen any direct appreciation for what she was willing to risk for him, even if he wasn't a fan of the execution.
I had to go back and watch some clips from this episode in order to respond to this, and I have to say it actually gutted me to see how genuinely happy and proud and excited Lucy was for Tim when he got the promotion. Especially juxtaposed against Lucy learning that as much as Tim loves her and wants to support her, he really isn't able to fully get behind her on her dream, which is, of course, understandable, given his past, but still just really heartbreaking for Lucy.
When I initially watched the five-player-trade episode, I was just waiting for Tim to pop up at Smitty's trailer in his own hazmat suit to help Lucy. I thought he would be a little irritated about Lucy going behind his back, but ultimately I though we'd see him acknowledging and appreciating just how much she was willing to do to make sure he was happy (forget torpedoing her career -- she cleaned Smitty's trailer for god's sake!).
Moving into the V-day episode...
First off, boo on Tim for bailing on V-day breakfast (even is she was up late catching up with Noah 😂).
Even though I understood why Tim was upset, I don't love avoidant Tim (looking at you, beginning of 6x02 Tim 😂). Lucy of course deals with it because she does genuinely love him and understands how he operates, but this is something I do think he needs to work on and I'd like to see change over the course of the relationship. As much as I loved their Rookie-T.O. dynamic, there are definitely aspects of it that don't belong in a healthy relationship.
Back to the point, I do think what Lucy did was misguided and short-sighted (and unbelievably sweet). I do think she should have actually apologized (sorry not sorry doesn't count 😂).
But, while we're at it, Tim can apologize for making a major life decision without talking to her first also... 😂
The scene at the end was cute; I like it better now than I did when it originally aired. Some actual heat over "fuel for later" would have been great but it is, of course, The Rookie. And I do wish they would have made the gift somehow meaningful for them to give the scene a little bit more weight (think when Jackson gave Lucy the St. Michael pendant), but hey, at least we got the trophy this season 🥰.
Ultimately, it didn't make me feel a whole lot, and it's not a scene that makes the list when I think of my favorite moments for them.
And watching it back did highlight (IMO) the contrast between what we've seen so far in season 6 vs. the bulk of what we saw in season 5. And while angst is part of it, for me, I think it's more about giving us a story that (at least occasionally) goes beyond the surface level (Tim was mildly irritated! Lucy was sassy and silly!) and explores the character's emotions in a way that makes them more human and relatable.
What were your thoughts on this storyline??
#chenford#the rookie#my asks#see lana ramble#lucy chen#tim bradford#the rookie 5x13#the rookie 5x16#lucy chen x tim bradford#tim bradford x lucy chen
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Marvin the Martian in the Golden Age - "Least Good" to Best
Recently, I made a list of my favorite Looney Tunes characters. Right at the top of that list was our favorite martian, Marvin. I’m not sure why this little destroyer of worlds is my favorite in the Looney Tunes cast, but he is, and always has been. What’s interesting about Marvin is that he’s actually a lot more prominent today than he was back during the Golden Age of the Looney Tunes, back in their theatrical cartoon days. In that time, out of the hundreds of Looney Tunes made, Marvin only appeared in five cartoon short subjects. But over time, the character evolved, and creators began to use him more in a wide array of projects.
This year, not only is Warner Bros. turning one hundred years old, but it marks the 75th anniversary of Marvin, as a character. I therefore thought it would be fun to look at Marvin’s track record onscreen, and talk about some of my favorites of his appearances. And, since it IS a celebration of Marvin, I figured I’d do this in the form of two separate lists: one dedicated to his early Golden Age shorts, and one dedicated to…well…basically everything else.
With that said, this countdown is a ranking of the five cartoons Marvin appeared in during the Golden Age of the Looney Tunes. While I personally enjoy all five of these shorts, naturally I like some more or less than others. So, for the first half of this celebration of my favorite Looney Toon, here’s a little ranking I like to call “Marvin the Martian in the Golden Age - Least Good to Best.”
5. Mad as a Mars Hare.
Marvin’s final appearance in the Golden Age. This was, believe it or not, the first Golden Age cartoon with the character I think I ever saw, and it’s not a bad final trumpet sound for the martian to go out on. The story begins with Marvin not planning to DESTROY Earth, but instead simply studying it from his hideaway on Mars. Bugs Bunny is sent rocketing into space (not wholly voluntarily). The mission lands him on Mars (after crashing through Marvin’s observatory). The Martian, believing Bugs to be a threat, proceeds to use a few of his gadgets to try and either destroy the rabbit or transform him into a mind-warped servant. As you can probably guess from the image used here, it doesn’t go the way Marvin anticipated. I love the beginning of this cartoon, as well as the way it ends, and Marvin and Bugs each have some good lines, but I feel the cartoon is a bit too simple for its own good, with a lot less going on through the midsection. This was late into the Golden Age of the Looney Tunes, when the animation department and other creative areas were starting to lose both budget and steam. While it’s still a good cartoon, it does feel somewhat weaker than earlier cartoons that came before it, and perhaps that’s the reason why.
4. Haredevil Hare.
Right on the heels of the Martian’s last outing, we now have Marvin’s very first appearance. It’s an alright character introduction, in my opinion. The plot is pretty simple: Bugs Bunny is sent into space (against his will) for a science experiment, just as would be the case years later in “Mad as a Mars Hare.” Not long after landing on the Moon, however, Marvin the Martian arrives, planning to use an Explosive Space Modulator to blow up the Earth. Bugs steals the device to prevent this, so Marvin sics his alien pet dog, K-9, on the rascally rabbit. Hijinks then ensue. The cartoon established a lot about Marvin; many of the gags and character distinctions in this short would be repeated in later outings with the Martian, and his design would remain largely unchanged through the decades following. However, while this is a solid START for Marvin, that’s also exactly what it feels like: a START. I think a lot of the jokes and elements present here would be expanded and improved upon in some later shorts. Most notably, Marvin’s voice in his first appearance is quite different from his later appearances: instead of a prim, proper, only somewhat nasally performance, Mel Blanc’s first voice for Marvin literally sounds like a stereotypical nerd with a bad cold. You can see why they changed it later on; if Marvin had used this voice for the rest of time, I get the feeling he’d be a lot less beloved.
3. The Hasty Hare.
This was Marvin’s second appearance, and in my opinion, it’s the point where the character really got cemented and became the Marvin we know and love best today. (For one thing, this is the cartoon where his now-well-known voice was properly set.) This is sort of funny to me, since I often get the feeling it’s the Golden Age Marvin cartoon least remembered nowadays. In this short, instead of Bugs going into space, this time, it’s the Martian who comes down to Earth. He and K-9 have been given orders to abduct one specimen of Earthling life and bring it back to Mars for analysis; by sheer chance, Bugs Bunny is the first Earth creature the pair come across, and thus the carrot-chomping trickster must find a way to outwit the man from Mars (and his “K-9” companion) and escape. The cartoon gives us a lot more interaction between Marvin and both of his co-stars, and gives us a better understanding of his personality, with more of his classic lines and manners than his first appearance, as well as more of a look at his gadgets, and a better showcase of his infamous temper. It’s simple, but it’s fun, and for me it’s a great example of a second appearance that outmatches the first. FUN FACT: one thing that WASN’T established here was Marvin’s name. He wouldn’t receive his classic name until much later. In this cartoon, he’s referred to as “Commander of Flying Saucer X-2,” and behind the scenes work refers to him “Antwerp.” I think we can all agree “Marvin the Martian” is a much catchier moniker, however.
2. Hare-way to the Stars.
Marvin’s penultimate Golden Age appearance is probably one of his most popular, being the most referenced, quoted, and generally showcased cartoon featuring his feud with Bugs Bunny out there. Once again, Bugs gets shot into space (this time accidentally, rather than him being forced for some sort of scientific purpose). This round, he winds up on a Martian space station, where Marvin seems to be the only lifeform running anything. Just like in “Haredevil Hare,” the little rogue plans to blow up the Earth using “the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator.” He claims the planet “obstructs his view of Venus.” Bugs stops and steals the device at the last possible second (“Where’s the kaboom?! There was supposed to be an Earth-shattering kaboom!”), so Marvin creates an army of bird-like “Instant Martians” to chase the rabbit down and get the Space Modulator back. The visuals, gags, and dialogue of this cartoon are all sublime; interestingly, Marvin’s costume in this version is given a different color scheme, with a green jumper and armor that is bronze-hued. This same color scheme would reappear in “Mad as a Mars Hare,” and seems to be unique to these two appearances. While I do prefer Marvin’s traditional red-and-green outfit, this look isn’t too bad, and it’s curious that it was used so rarely; I guess fans never really cottoned to it. No matter.
1. Duck Dodgers in the 24th ½ Century.
It’s funny that, nowadays, Marvin often seems to be considered an arch-nemesis of Daffy Duck, rather than Bugs Bunny. Out of the five Golden Age cartoons made with the character, this is the only one where Daffy and the Martian interact. But, oh, what an interaction it was: “Duck Dodgers in the 24th ½ Century” (a parody of the space fantasy series “Buck Rogers in the 25th Century”) is widely regarded as one of the greatest Looney Tunes cartoons of all time, and along with “Hare-way to the Stars,” is likely Marvin’s most lauded appearance. The cartoon features Daffy as the dunderheaded, over-confident space adventurer Duck Dodgers, who is given a mission to locate the mysterious Planet X and stake a claim for it on the Earth. Unfortunately, at the exact same time, Marvin arrives to claim Planet X for Mars. Declaring “there just ain’t room enough on this planet for the two of us,” Dodgers and Marvin thus proceed to try and destroy each other in increasingly wild ways, till one of them can claim Planet X. This cartoon inspired more spin-offs, reimaginings, and homages than probably any other cartoon either Marvin OR Daffy ever made. In a way, the rivalry between these two makes more sense than Marvin against Bugs: the two are complete antitheses of each other. Marvin is a smoldering ball of destructive rage who carries himself with dignity, while Daffy is a wild whirlwind of chaotic energy. Both have tremendous egos, and both are infamously unwilling to compromise as a result. Seeing these two personalities clash is a delight, and it’s probably why their single encounter is more fondly remembered than almost any of Marvin’s meetings with Bugs Bunny (which, I should point out, are also terrific, obviously). It’s a cartoon as iconic as the Looney Tunes themselves, and for having such recognizable status, it more than earns its place as My Favorite Golden Age Marvin the Martian Cartoon.
“Isn’t that lovely, hm?”
#marvin the martian#looney tunes#merrie melodies#golden age of looney tunes#looney toons#cartoons#animation#wb#warner bros.#daffy duck#bugs bunny#least good to best#favorites#list#countdown
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comments on almost nowhere for new readers
A few points that may be useful to people who didn't read Almost Nowhere before it was complete, but who are planning to read it now. (AKA "archival readers," as opposed to "serial readers.")
(1)
You'll want to read it fast enough that you don't lose track of the plot.
But, you probably shouldn't read it as quickly as you can. If you "binge-read" it over a very short span of time, some of the effect will be dulled or lost.
When planning out the story, I thought a lot about the reader's evolving state of knowledge. "What the reader knows" was almost like a character unto itself, and an important one.
For example:
I tried to create a enjoyable, continual "rotation" of mysteries, with new questions arising at the same time that old questions get answered, repeatedly across the course of the book.
In between the point when a question is raised and the point when it finally gets a definitive answer, I often tried to create a succession of interesting intermediate states. For example, the reader might first encounter something important in the form of an enigmatic, unexplained name or phrase, mentioned incidentally. Later, the same term starts appearing more often, and gets more coloration, and this coloration is different each time, so that the sum total of "what the reader knows" traces out a series of different "shapes" over time.
So you'll have the most fun if you stop regularly to savor your current state of knowledge. The questions that haven't been answered yet, the partial glimpses you've seen of things you don't fully get. Maybe even go back and re-read earlier bits, if you like.
(1b)
All that said, I also want to caution against viewing the book as a puzzle you're meant to be able to solve on your own, like a "fair-play whodunit."
I intended it to be fun for the reader to wonder about how the questions will be answered, but there's no pretense of playing fair. And that "fun" is often more aesthetic and thematic than it is intellectual.
(2)
Almost Nowhere is divided into 3 parts.
You can see them if you look at the table of contents. In Part 1, the chapter titles are Roman numerals. In Part 2, chapters have verbal titles, together with Arabic numerals that start over from zero. In Part 3, the Roman numerals resume again.
The three parts tell a single continuous story, and share most of the same major characters. But each one is somewhat distinct in its style, tone, themes, and areas of focus, and each one extends the scope of the plot considerably.
Maybe the closest comparison-point is a trilogy of SF/F novels, where each of the sequels is clearly "its own book" that feels distinct from the other two books, while still continuing the story in a coherent way.
I mention this here in the hope that these transitions will be less jarring if you're prepared in advance for them.
(2b)
In another, more "spiritual" sense, Almost Nowhere really has just two parts.
The transition happens at Chapter 13, which could fairly be grouped either into the first or the second part, or both, or neither.
Why? Up through Chapter 12, my planning for future events had been fairly slapdash and vague. I was still in the "throw stuff at the wall so I can create the real story by looking for patterns in it later" stage of my unusual creative process.
After Chapter 12, I thought "okay, that's enough of that. Vague inklings of the future aren't sufficient anymore. It's time to get start being more serious about my planning. It's time to 'create the real story.'"
So I did a bunch of that, and it profoundly shaped everything from Chapter 13 onward. (I don't know how obvious this transition would be if you didn't know about it beforehand; to me it feels very obvious, but maybe deceptively so.)
It goes deeper than that. Chapter 13 is tonally different than any of the preceding ones -- darker, more personal, with a new focus on obsession, bittersweet reflection on the past, regret, resignation. And, semi-accidentally, that ended up setting the tone for the whole rest of the book.
It's not all like that afterwards, to the same extent. But that stuff is always there, at least in the background.
I don't know if this is actually useful to know or not, but I felt like mentioning it, so there it is.
(3)
Like Floornight and TNC before it, Almost Nowhere is a hybrid.
It combines elements from a number of different genres and story types that would not normally be seen alongside one another. At the same time, it doesn't really belong to any of the genres or story types that it draws from.
This aspect of my fiction tends to elicit bimodal responses. When I mix one type of story with another, it tends to come off either as the best-of-both-worlds or the worst-of-both-worlds, depending on the reader.
Some people see five individually good "normal" books, merged into one and singing in harmony. And people see five half-assed attempts to do five different things, without following through on the promises of any one of them.
For example, I noted above that I put a lot of care into setting up mysteries, and I expected the reader to be very aware of them. And I also noted that the story isn't very rewarding if treated like a puzzle that can be "solved" in advance.
But some people are going to see the mysteries, and the care put into them, and think, "ah, I know (and enjoy) this genre, this is a puzzle you're supposed to work out in advance." And these people aren't wrong; it does kind of look like that, especially at the beginning.
Likewise, Almost Nowhere has several chapters that explain math and physics concepts to the characters and to the reader -- either real ones, or fictitious ones that have some pretense of continuity with real math and physics. Sometimes these get very involved, in the manner of Stephenson or Egan.
A reader who sees this stuff, and thinks "ah, I know (and enjoy) this genre," is likely to be disappointed when they discover that the story is not really about math or physics in any deep way. Certainly not about real math or physics. The invented "physics" is closer to the core of it, but less so than some other things -- and anyway, there is more of pure fantasy to it than serious scientific extrapolation.
Like Floornight, AN is arguably "best" described as a fantasy story, and not the GoT kind of fantasy -- the highly aestheticized, thematic, emotional kind of fantasy, where "feels" and "vibes" are almost literally magic and drive everything from the inside out.
But if you read it for that genre, specifically, it may feel odd that it keeps lapsing into long descriptions of nuts-and-bolts plot mechanics, and into laborious explanations of made-up technobabble. Or into setting up "puzzles" that almost feel solvable-in-advance.
Or just, like, being written in this really weird, particular, often opaque style.
I can't just say "leave all your genre preconceptions at the door," as if it were that simple -- as though one could just do that by force of will. But be aware that the elements you recognize, from other fiction, may not be there for the usual reasons.
But they are there for a reason.
When I think about why I write, I often come back to an answer that Andrew Hussie gave on Formspring long ago:
Q: Do you enjoy your own work? I mean if Homestuck was made by someone else and not you, is it the kind of thing you would like reading [...]?
A: I am making the kind of thing I would want to read. I am making the kind of thing I wish existed, but doesn't. Yet.
I am doing that, too. I'm taking elements from all over, and building something else out of them. It looks deceptively like the sources it draws from, but it's very different from any of them, underneath.
If it had already existed, it would not have been necessary for me to invent it.
(4)
As I mentioned in the last bullet point, Almost Nowhere is written in a very particular style.
This style gets better-defined over time, and more ossified, and possibly more extreme. (Chapter 13 played the same role in this process as it did in various others, for instance.)
At various times, I've said that Almost Nowhere is my favorite of my stories, or the most ambitious or accomplished one, or the one I like most on re-reading. And that is all true -- in certain senses, anyway.
But I don't want to convey the impression that I think the "Almost Nowhere house style" is like, the epitome of Good Writing or something. Or even that it's my best writing, necessarily. It simply is what it is, as much for consistency's sake as anything else.
(I confess there were times when I looked back on something I'd just wrote, and thought to myself: "I'm not actually sure this is, like, good. Maybe it isn't. But is is definitely Almost-Nowherey, that's for sure." And then I let it stand, for that reason.)
In the best-case scenario, you'll find that you greatly enjoy the "Almost Nowhere house style." If it's not to your taste, hopefully you will find it at least tolerable enough that you can access and enjoy other aspects of the book.
But if you find that really dislike the style, this book is probably not for you, sorry.
It's over 300,000 words, and they're all like that. I wouldn't want someone to force themselves through 300k words while hating every one of them, in the name of finding out what happens, or being a nostalgebraist completionist, or whatever.
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The lack of fleshed-out Buffy Army Plotline in Season 7 is a big issue for one of the Season's key plot moments - when the Slayers rebel against her command and choose Faith as leader over her.
For one, its structured poorly on the episode-level. Buffy orders the Potentials on their first real operation to attack Caleb's base, their first time encountering him, based on a baiting threat Caleb makes, and they got wrecked - several potentials die & Xander loses an eye. Then Buffy, based on a ~vibes~ insight from second encounter with Caleb where she gets wrecked again, decides they need to attack the base full repeat, due to the idea that the base must matter to Caleb and hold something of power.
She has no new info for this conclusion, no intelligence gathering or research that gave her new insights on this. Hilariously, Spike is on a mission finding new intelligence, but Buffy did not know about it, protested it, and does not wait for its completion. She has no strategy or approach for beating Caleb now compared to before. She comes off as proposing a suicide mission for no reason - there is no pressing clock that they know about. Its a bit deranged, and out of character for her. Everyone is completely right to rebel against her, but the narrative will punish them all anyway next episode due to authorial fiat. Its lazy writing, and easily solvable - give Buffy new intel & a new approach, and have the potentials rebel anyway due to fear and resentment.
The second issue is seasonal. Buffy has been training the potentials, but the reality is that they have never done anything of use, not really. The First spends most of the middle half the season "in remission" after the defeat of one of its minions, until Caleb shows up, and those episodes resolve around character arcs for Spike, Willow, Buffy (and also Andrew!) and Scooby Gang missions. The potentials sit at home and train. Until Buffy decides to full-army attack a base where they get completely wiped, with no real intel and no real plan. The potentials, to remind here, are *potential* slayers - they have no super strength or any real powers (seems like they are 10% stronger than they should be, but that is reading between the lines). This mission itself was in fact extremely foolish of Buffy, and the build-up to it is...a few scenes at most. Its amateur-hour leadership without the narrative recognizing it. The potentials should have spent months fighting vampires on patrol or something, and had many excited to finally "level up" and fight First minions (or something).
And meanwhile, since it is the potential's first mission, it makes them come off like whiny children. There is no build up to a "rebel against Buffy" arc, not really, they haven't been doing enough for that. They are very often despondent about their hopes, but that isn't Buffy's fault, their enemy is really powerful. Buffy protects them, trains them, tells them that this is a war and some of them will die, then one bad mission goes off and they all rebel immediately, including Buffy's long-time friends. They could do that in real life, sure, but this is TV -you need to seed stakes to make things satisfying!
A big dropped ball of Season 7 is that the potentials - except for Kennedy, who gets a (annoying) personality virtue of sleeping with Willow - are just a big mass of scared teens. Because they never do anything they can't evolve an identity. As large org, they should gain opinions, and from there factions. This is done very slightly at times (Kennedy is very fight-fight) but never with consequences. If you want a rebellion to work dramatically, what you need are differing groups that support the "Buffy leadership" and groups that dissent more, and then you hit a tipping point where the Buffy faction switches sides - for concrete reasons. And then their switching can be *their* story, not just them as a mass going "woah Buffy you are crazy" and its entirely Buffy's story. Its a deep structural problem - Buffy isn't the one making the decision here.
To get around this the writers have the mass potential squad choose Faith as their leader, to make it "her" story. This has a few problems - one is that Faith didn't want it at all, and is explicitly not the leader type. They only motive for choosing her is that she is the Slayer - but come on, this is a rebellion against Slayer-ocracy, superstrength doesn't make you a leader. She is a dumb choice - Giles is the obvious counter choice here, but also "democracy" exists too.
More importantly, Buffy's core friends go along with this, and the last time they saw Faith she tried to kill Buffy! She has tried to kill all of them multiple times. She tried to rape Xander! No one mentions that!! Yes she got better, but off-screen, they never saw that. She has been in town for a weekend, tops. They know, intimately, that she is awful leadership material. This doesn't fly at all. The whole thing doesn't fly on this part, *Giles* has been doubting Buffy's leadership for a while but Willow, Dawn, & Xander haven't, them flipping on a dime makes no sense. But this part double plus doesn't fly.
Also there is a fundamental scene-itself issue where Buffy proposes this plan to literally everyone in the living room, all at once, with no actual operational plan herself. Again, amateur hour - sit down with your leadership team and lay out your goal & motives, then devise a strategy with that team, then present that to the team as a cohesive operation with united leadership.
And it is sad because actually this concept has a ton of legs to it; mass army leadership is a brand new challenge for Buffy, this is a very good way to test it. This could be the peak of the season, but alas its dramatic stakes are at war with its logic. Should have hired me to write it, clearly!
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Tell me some of your favorite headcanons for the boys ?
I mean... I'm afraid of answering this for BDOR spoilers, because I have put all of my favorite head canons into that fic, obviously. Oh well, I figure most of my readers don't follow me on tumblr. So here's my head canons both for LU and my specific story Blood Drops on Roses.
Twilight -- used to have "anger issues" when he came back from his quest as a teen that was really just him being hurt and lashing out (I already had this idea, but it evolved a lot with your fics where he gets overwhelmed @somer-writes XD). He just... feels a lot, and feels it genuinely.
Sky -- I think this guy has gone through some /trauma/ compared to the other heroes. With his sunny nature and calm disposition---I think it's borne of a greater understanding of himself and his own limits. I do kinda hate the "trauma made them stronger uwu" trope, but for Sky that's true, because he put in the work and chose to be kind after all the horrible things that happened to him. Also, he's not bad at cooking traditional Skyloftian meals, like hot drinks.
Wind -- I think that he doesn't have all the inherent qualities, especially bravery and self-sacrifice, that the others have because they were "destined to be heroes" while he was not. Now, he's learned them, sure, but I think that jumping into battle still doesn't come as easily to him as it does to some of the others. But that also comes to my HC about the Triforce and its effects on its wielder (I've also got a fun thing for Wild on that one).
Hyrule -- I think that his healing magic isn't exactly... light. A lot of people HC that his magic is fairy magic, and I think that's partially true, but for him to be able to transform and access it in human form... I think there's something else going on there. But yeah, I've changed this guy's backstory a lot, I hope I don't have the Hyrule stans coming after me XD
Legend -- I think that he's a lot more chill about Koholint and things being "not real" than a lot of other people HC. Sure, it's always there in the back of his mind, but he'd rather have helped and fought and even fallen in love and it not be real than to hold himself back from that for fear of getting hurt again, because he's tried that. Also, I think he's slotted Time into the Uncle role in his mind, but that's not really plot important (or is it?)
Time -- @needfantasticstories >:D you know what's up with this poor guy. But yeah, I HC (and I've said this before), that he and Wind met in Mario cart, sometime before this adventure for Time, and sometimes after for Wind. There's not a lot of evidence for that, I'm just making up stuff as I go. Watch out for an author's note for that on the chapters near Too Quiet I'm tryna set up a joke XD
Warrior -- I think he's so teasing of the other heroes because he wants to hold them all at arm's length. He's still a bit traumatized from being betrayed, so he keeps that charming front of his up and keeps anyone from getting too close and seeing the real him. I think even Time (or at least, what we know of him) hasn't seen that genuine side of him, at least in a while.
Four -- I can't say that I have anything unique for him, when it comes for head canons that differ from LU norms. He is good at interpersonal conflicts, I also think he's good at self-reflection and helping others through their emotions. I do think he has four people in his head at all times, but they work around each other. I kinda go on and off about whether his eyes change color. He does have blue screen moments if he's startled or confused, and the panic of needing to move suddenly or choose quickly just makes it worse.
Wild -- currently multiple emotionally stunted gremlins in a trench coat. No, I will not elaborate :D
I'm turning the question back on you @wanderlustmagician and anyone else who wants to join in---what are your head canons for the boys?
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🔥Sinful Sunday🔥
4 AM- 😈Voters choice!😈
Fandom: Ted Lasso
Ship: Roy x Jamie, Ramie
Tags: bottom jamie tartt, top roy kent, sexual tension, season 3 spoilers kinda, PWP, plot what plot, porn without plot, anal plugs, anal sex, unsafe sex, cumming inside, begging, coach kink, smut fic, spanking, bisexual Jamie tartt
Summary:
It started with an agreement.
One Roy regretted moments after making, mind you, because it came paired with a metric fuckton of physical, mental, and as much as it pains him to admit it, sexual, frustration.
But he’s currently attributing those feelings, the sexual ones, to his most recent break-up and the eyeful of Jamie’s junk he wasn’t expecting to see at 4 AM...
How it's going now… is a rapidly evolving story.
The folded piece of paper taped to the front door of Jamie’s flat could have been, in theory, left for anyone. But since it wasn't there last night after Roy left, and only a sum total of 5 hours has elapsed since then, he has to think it’s been left there on purpose. That Roy is the intended recipient.
There were only two words on the paper, and yet they plummeted his heart and kickstarted his libido faster than Keeley in her sexy Christmas outfit did.
Cum inside.
Roy yanks the note off the door and shoves it into his pocket before he can convince himself to leave.
#sinful sunday#royjamie#roy x jamie#jamie x roy#ramie#4 am#ted lasso#roy kent#bi roy kent#bi jamie tartt#bisexual jamie tartt#jamie tartt#find me on ao3#links in bio#sunwarmed ash#buy me a coffee?#kofi support keeps me out of capitalisms clutches#reblogs are free ways to support me!#i post new stuff every sunday
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Wednesday Headcanons and My Theories for Season 2
HEADCANONS
1. That wasn't Tyler!
It is my personal headcanon that antagonist!tyler is not Tyler but rather a whole other person. After all, the story of Jekyll and Hyde is that they were two people sharing a body: the respectable scientist and the homicidal serial killer. Kinda like Flayed!Billy from Stranger Things; the Hyde, his alter ego is dormant, but once Laurel gives commands, he's activated.
And like the f@#!ing grooming b!+ch she is, Laurel will name it Garret like a creep. I’M SORRY, BUT MY BRAIN THOUGHT OF IT AND NOW IT WON’T LET IT GO!
2. Not a Love Story
Honestly, I feel like a love story so soon into the show, especially a love triangle, was jumping the gun SO MUCH, especially for such a stoic character like Wednesday. It just made no sense to me realistically. Like, maybe after some more ‘evolving’ on Wednesday’s part in terms of friendship, then maybe she could consider ‘romance’ in season two, but as it stands now, it’s just a little weird for me personally.
And in terms of LGBTQA+? I’d headcanon Wednesday as a demiromantic asexual.
My Theories for Season 2
1.Tyler Redemption Arch
With Laurel gone (either dead or incarcerated), Tyler is supposedly left without a master. Or maybe Wednesday’s his new master with her victory over Laurel (kinda like Teen Wolf’s Matt and Gerard). This could leave Tyler to learn to control his Hyde side and maybe make amends with Wednesday and the other Outcasts. I wouldn’t jump back into romance with this story arch, but who knows?
2. Morning Song In Charge
I have a theory that with the dearly departed Principle Weems out of the picture, Morning Song, the mysterious siren cult Bianca’s mother’s involved in might take advantage of the vacuum to earn a couple more dollars, which could mean some sinister changes to the school. Like Umbridge levels of sinister. And Bianca will have to be forced to take a stand for her friends, her Nevermore family, when it goes too far.
3. Looking Through Sunglasses
So, the stalker has been theorised on multiple times and one of suspects with Yoko Tanaka, a vampire student who is not only a member of the Nightshade Society, giving her resources and opportunities, but is also one of the only cast members who doesn’t have much dialogue, or any, during the whole show’s runtime. The only instance we actually see her speak is in the application video.
Not only does her status as a member of the Nightshades give her time and resources, but she was also the one who Enid roomed with when she lost her patience with Wednesday. And with Enid being the go-to gossip hound, I’m sure Yoko soaked up all the information about Wednesday’s investigation and tendencies.
And don’t forget, Rowan Laslow, an excommunicated member of the Nightshades, was antagonistic towards Wednesday before his untimely demise. Maybe Yoko decided to jump on the Wednesday-Be-Gone band wagon after the whole Crackstone scenario, deciding that Wednesday was a force to chaotic to leave unchecked.
So a little friendly warning should go a long way. Right?
4. Goody will be the final antagonist
I don't believe Goody is really gone, not so soon into the game, anyway. Morticia told Wednesday that while Goody was a powerful witch, her vengeance and power consumed her ‘until she couldn’t save herself’. And whilst healing Wednesday, she smiled almost in relief, but not the sort of "yay, I saved you!" relief; more like a "this is working out better than I hoped" relief.
So I believe that as season 2 goes, Goody will slowly come to possess Wednesday's body, taking control and performing her magic once more: all in a nefarious plot to exact her vengeance on Jericho and Normies once and for all. And it'll be up to her Outcast friends to save her and help her fight back, despite Goody claiming that Wednesday was descend to be alone.
Right now, I’m playing it out almost like the boss battle in Scooby-Doo! and the Witch’s Ghost!, where Wednesday is fighting for control, whilst the others are fighting to keep hold of Goody’s Book of Shadows to try and find the spell that will save Wednesday.
Anyway, those are my personal headcanons and theories for now! Hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to find out more!
#wednesday tv 2022#wednesday addams#tyler galpin#laurel gates#morning song cult#bianca barclay#yoko tanaka#rowan laslow#the hyde#joseph crackstone#goody addams#morticia addams#wednesday headcanons#wednesday theories
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