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questforgalas · 1 year

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As always I will hold firm that this blog is a space for positivity while welcoming constructive criticisms of media. I’m a firm believer you can enjoy a media while still accepting it’s flaws/not vibing with an episode/not vibe with some writing choices etc.

I have a lot of emotions swirling in my brain after the Bad Batch panel at Star Wars celebration.

The panel started off with a montage recap of season 2, and I became so emotional watching it. It reminded how much I really loved this season and how beautiful it was cinematically, the development we got with the characters (got extra teary when they showed Crosshair shoot Nolan and the audience erupted, my man deserves all the flowers 😭😭😭), and wonderful development with the story of the clones and the empire.

There was a lot of focus in the beginning of the panel on Omega's development from Season 1 to Season 2 along with her development through Season 2, and her view of what's right and what's wrong being challenged like every child when they experience that everything is not right and just, and it was really heartwarming to watch Michelle talk so passionately about Omega. It's clear she loves this character and is so excited to bring her light to life in the galaxy. I also thought it was interesting when she and Athena (a producer) brought up the fact that Omega is actually older than the batchers, and as much as we view it as "over protective older brothers", Athena and Michelle made the distinction that it's actually "over protective older sister", and that gave me a major perspective switch to her character and her need to put herself in danger regarding the Batch that I hadn't thought about before. I think this realllllly plays into the now very talked about moment in the trailer (that I haven't watched yet) with Crosshair saying "I'm not like them" to Omega - I 10000% believe this is Crosshair, mr. wicked-observant-perceptive-sniper, pushing Omega away because he knows she'll put herself in danger for them and Crosshair genuinely believing he's not worthy of being considered a Batcher anymore and not worthy of her dedication. Someone fucking sedate me and my emotions regarding this pixelated man

Dee saying "I'm very excited by the screws that are turning, the wheels that are grinding, as this story plays out in all of its interesting ways in particular around Crosshair" gave me the air under my wings I need to get me to 2024.

Now, I'm someone who when I watch panels like this, I analyze every smirk and smile and frown and eye glimmer when a spoiler topic comes up, so let's get into when Tech came up (putting under the cut because this is getting long and some people may not want to see Tech conversation yet).

Michelle: stuttered through her whole answer, not in a "overcome with emotions can't talk way" (although she did get choked up initially talking about it which ugh love ya babe 💖) but it came off as she didn't really know what she could say in the moment. "Ok no he doesn't come back in this episode, at least", big pause before "at least"

Dee: probably the most convincing that Tech's gone. Even tone throughout, passionate (for Dee) talk about saying goodbye to this character. Got emotional at the end. BUT THEN when he discusses Tech and Phee's dynamic later in the panel, is all present tense

Jennifer: Got very emotional. Couldn't finish her explanation. Brought on the emphasis of Omega's perspective and Hunter's worst nightmare. Used the word "definitive" a couple times. Had spent other moments in the panel previously talking about how "every time they got involved with the Empire, it didn't end well"

Brad: More emphasis on what happenen when the Batch tangled with the Empire, and Tarkin being the ultimate Empire force at the time. Intercepted by Dee, a lot of finality speak

So, after watching that moment a few times now, I still stand firm that, until the end credits of the series role and no body is returned, Tech will come back, but I will admit that watching the panel brought my assuredness down from 90% to 50%. Unless that entire panel are the best actors and phenomenal at not giving any tells, it was hard to grasp onto hope that Tech will come back after watching that. Which brings me to my criticism

If Tech is actually dead, and the OG 4 Batch are not reunited before the end of Season 3 aka the end of the series, then that will leave a sour taste in my mouth with the series as a whole. Genuinely Season 3 could be the Crosshair show and it would not save the series from my overall opinion if the OG 4 are not together and then the whole Batch family have their conclusion.

I want to be very clear, that conclusion could be all 5 of them chilling on Pabu together (although I think Echo is going to end with being part of the rebellion) or it could be that all of them fall fighting the empire in a blaze of glory together - which I admit seems more likely with the ongoing theme of "they're not just soldiers but they can't get away from it, and every time they engage with the Empire it doesn't end well for them, but now it's personal" - but either way, if it's all of the Batch together I don't care how it ends. I also want to be very clear that I will still love the series and I will still rave about them and blog about them in a positive light, but I will have a very hard time at the conclusion of the series if this doesn't happen.

It narratively and logically makes no sense to me to introduce the Batch as they did in TCW to have them separated within the first 60 minutes of their own series and have a focus be on how out of synch they are when they're not all together, to then continue to separate them with absolutely no sense of closure. It makes no sense to me to emphasize their brotherhood and their sibling dynamic more than any other clone squadron, even the dominos, and that emphasis be really put on Crosshair (after rewatching TCW arc, ALOT of the typical sibling moments are between Crosshair and another batcher. He is the sibling focal point in that arc and "Aftermath") to have him be ripped away from them and never have that reunion with one of his original brothers. It makes no sense to me to have Tech be the one to stand up to Hunter and declare Crosshair as still their brother and they need to go get him to have him then be killed off in a very flat way to not have that reunion moment.

Admittedly, I fell in love with the Batch because of their dynamic in TCW arc, and I expected there to be changes through their series, that's what character development is for. I also admit that the hope that the OG 4 would be reunited kept me coming back each week, which then resulted in me just being hooked and attached in general as I grew to love each batcher, especially Echo and his dynamic with the squad too. But if Tech is really dead, I am just so confused as to why they'd take what hooked so many people on the Batch as a whole and throw it out the window.

With all of this said, I completely recognize that I'm not the creator(s) of this show and I'm not making the decisions, so if the OG 4 reuniting is not an end result, then I may not agree with it but it's not my decision and I still love and appreciate what they've given to/will give us.

So, we obviously have awhile until 2024, and I will be gobbling up every crumb they throw at us as the season comes closer. It is more than likely that by the time the season comes around, I will be emotionally feral and unhinged living in an AU la la land. I am so so excited to see how they conclude this story and very hopeful for what they have in store. Until those end credits role, I will hang onto the hope that the OG 4 + Echo + Omega will be together again, and I'll happily strap in for whatever ride they throw us on.

But please, please, please bring the OG dynamic back.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars celebration #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #echo #omega #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #the bad batch echo #the bad batch omega

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kupwrites · 1 year

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Gentle Loving

Nolan Holloway x Muscular!Boyfriend!Reader

TW: Top Reader, Bottom Nolan, riding, praising, pet names, and a bit of nipple play

Nolan adored his boyfriend.

His boyfriend who was only a few inches taller than Nolan but had many more muscles than him.

Yet, Y/N was so gentle. With most things he was but especially with Nolan.

Like right now.

Nolan was straddling Y/N, easing himself onto his boyfriend’s cock and Y/N gently ran his hands over Nolan’s body.

Treating Nolan like he was something delicate, something that had to be treated with the utmost care.

Nolan let out a soft sigh as he fully took in Y/N.

“So handsome,” Y/N muttered as he peppered kisses across Nolan’s chest. “You’re doing amazing.”

Nolan couldn’t help but let out a soft moan at the words. Y/N’s praise always made him melt.

Y/N trailed his hands from Nolan’s shoulder blades to Nolan’s hips.

“Lemme know when you’re ready,” Y/N said, keeping his voice gentle and quiet.

Nolan smiled, “I need a few.”

Y/N smiled back before kissing Nolan. Even when they kissed Y/N was gentle with Nolan, only light nips and gentle strokes of his tongue.

Nolan ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair.

Nolan sighed and Y/N pushed his tongue into Nolan’s mouth, both were smiling softly into the kiss.

Y/N pulled away and rested their foreheads together.

Nolan slowly dragged his hands from the back of Y/N’s neck and down Y/N’s defined arms.

Defined arms that could hurt or bruise or manhandle Nolan but chose to be soft and kind towards Nolan.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Y/N said.

Nolan blushed and Y/N laughed lightly, not in a mocking way, in a happy way.

“Shut up,” Nolan muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Y/N still had that effect on him, even after more than a year of being together.

Y/N kissed Nolan’s nose, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Nolan decided to roll his hips, causing both boys to moan.

He then started moving his hips up and down, bouncing on his boyfriend’s cock.

Y/N’s strong hands helped Nolan move. Nolan held onto Y/N’s biceps.

“You’re doing so good, love,” Y/N gasped as Nolan picked up the pace.

Nolan pressed a kiss to Y/N’s check as a thank you.

Y/N gently bucked his hips to met Nolan on he pushed his hips downward.

Nolan cried out in pleasure as Y/N’s cock hit his prostate.

Y/N started kissing Nolan’s neck and shoulders as he continued to buck his hips in sync with Nolan’s movement.

Making Nolan moan and mewl as pleasure filled him.

“My perfect baby,” Y/N smiled. “Perfect, perfect baby.”

Nolan thought he was far from perfect but when Y/N said it to him in that beautiful tone, Nolan believed him.

Y/N continued to praise Nolan and kiss Nolan everywhere possible.

Nolan only leaned his head back and moaned in response.

“Y/N, I’m close,” Nolan said, breathlessly.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Y/N said, kissing Nolan’s jawline.

Y/N softly rubbed one of Nolan’s nipples with his thumb and sucked on the other one.

Another thing Nolan loved was when Y/N would play with his rosey buds, just as gentle as Y/N would do anything else.

Nolan tangled his hands in Y/N’s hair, letting out another moan.

“I’m- I’m gonna come,” Nolan warned. “Fuck!”

“Come my handsome boy,” Y/N twisted both Nolan’s nipples at the same time.

That sent Nolan over the edge and he moan out Y/N’s name. Spilling white ropes onto his and Y/N’s chest.

Y/N came seconds later moaning out Nolan’s name as well.

They rested their foreheads together and tried to catch their breathes.

“You’re amazing,” Y/N smiled.

Nolan only smiled back as a response.

He pulled himself off of Y/N’s cock and flopped down on the bed. Y/N chuckled as he pulled the condom off and threw it out.

Y/N laid down next to Nolan, “Bath, shower?”

“Later,” Nolan muttered, his eyes heavy.

“Okay.”

Y/N gathered Nolan in his muscular arms, pressing a kiss to Nolan’s hair.

“Sleep tight, my love,” Y/N said.

Nolan smiled and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s torso, feeling safe and happy as could be.

#nolan holloway #male reader #smut #praise #top reader #teen wolf #gay smut #nolan holloway x male reader #nolan holloway x reader #cuddling #froy gutierrez

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exhuastedpigeon · 7 months

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Feels Like Magic

A Buddie Urban Fantasy AU

Rated: T | Buddie | Chapter: 5/9 | 5.6k Updated Weekly on Wednesdays

Buck has always loved waking up at the Diaz house. Even back when he was waking up on the couch instead of in bed with Eddie, he'd loved it. He'd loved the way Chris would come into the living room in the morning, trying to be quiet and failing miserably because he was 10 and hadn't figured out how to modulate his tone yet. He'd loved the soft look on Eddie's face when he saw Buck tangled in blankets on the couch. But now that he wakes up in bed with Eddie, he's pretty sure there isn't any other place in the world he’d rather be. Waking up surrounded by the familiar smell of Eddie’s detergent and something so distinctly Eddie that Buck’s pretty sure it doesn’t have a name, waking up to the warmth of another person, with someone he trusts with his life. It just feels safe. It feels like home. He wakes slowly on his second official day staying at the Diaz house. They’d gotten off work at 7 last night and had been bullied into going out for a drink with the team. Then, Eddie’s sisters had met up with them, which turned into a few more drinks. They hadn’t ended up getting home until almost midnight - Buck had never felt more his age than when Sophia and Adriana had tried to get them to stay out even later and Buck had looked at Eddie who was already looking at him with the same face. They went home and both passed out before they’d even turned on the white noise machine. Buck was just grateful that Eddie had insisted they brush their teeth and drink some water before they collapsed into bed. Buck feels like they’re entitled to a bit of a slow morning, especially since Chris is spending the weekend with his friend Nolan and his family in San Diego for Nolan’s birthday. It’s rare that they have a day without anything to do, he wants to savor it. He feels Eddie stir next to him, but it doesn’t feel like Eddie is planning on getting up just yet either. Not when Eddie pulls Buck even tighter against his chest with the arm that’s wrapped around his waist and nuzzles into Buck’s neck, his stubble scratching lightly in a way that makes Buck glad it’s Eddie pressed against him and not the other way around. “Morning,” Eddie’s breath is hot on Buck’s neck as he speaks. Buck has to repress a shudder at the feeling and resists the urge to move his hips back so his ass is flush with Eddie’s crotch. They’re platonically sharing Eddie’s bed, they’re platonically holding each other. And listen, Buck knows that there are feelings here, he knows that Eddie and him have something special that they haven't talked about, that they haven't named yet. But he also knows that for as brave as he is at work, he's a coward. He's scared to make a move and risking everything they've built together. Buck is aware that he would sound insane if he says any of that out loud, but he keeps repeating it to himself anyway like if he thinks it enough he’ll start to believe it. He’s happy the way things are and he’s okay with things never changing, he is. He swears.

Continue on Ao3

#buddie #buddie au #buddie fic #my writing #buddie 911 #911 #9-1-1

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valphorien · 1 month

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What Hand Dare Seize the Fire? | Chapter 2

A witch's magic calls to demons, and demons bring destruction. When Elain Archeron is sentenced to burn for the crime of witchcraft, a demon named Lucien saves her from the flames and binds her life to his in an unholy pact.

Elain can accept losing her soul to a demon - she's far more frightened of losing her heart.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Chapter 2:

“This was not what I’d intended,” the demon said. “I expected I’d have to steal you, not save you.”

When the door opened at last, there was no glow of daylight to greet her, but the burning hues of sunset ringing Graysen’s silhouette. His father, Lord Nolan, followed him into the shed with a lantern held aloft.

“Graysen–” Elain’s parched throat constricted around the name, so it came out as little more than a croak.

But Graysen only stood beside her and pointed to her bound hands. His father lowered the lantern. Elain craned her neck back in time to see her future father-in-law shake his head grimly.

Standing, Lord Nolan said to his son, “Are you sure?”

“What other choice do we have?”

They spoke of Elain as if she wasn’t there, or as if she was livestock to be bartered over. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two men.

“Banishment? Although… that is no guarantee.”

“That is my fear. Banish her to the wilds, and she’ll be ensnared by the demon anyway, and they have one more servant for their army.”

“Or she moves on to another town, and we pass off the danger to other innocents.” Lord Nolan heaved a sigh and gripped his son by the arm. “I only wish to spare you the pain. You need not watch. No one will think less of you.”

Graysen shook his head. “No. No, I will do what I must.”

Elain surged forward, but the rope held fast. “Can’t you remove the mark? There has to be a way!” She’d lived in their home for months. She was to be their family, and neither man would look her in the eye. “I’ll cut my hand off if I have to!”

“Even if we could remove the demon’s mark, we cannot make it forget. A demon has claimed you, and demons will not stop until they get what they want.” Graysen’s icy mask slipped with a curl of his lip. “You drew it here.” He met her gaze at last, and Elain wished he hadn’t. “How long have you known you are a witch? How long have you hid it from me?”

Shame smoldered in the pit of Elain’s stomach. She’d never rehearsed for this moment, convinced that so long as she was careful, she’d have no need for excuses. She would’ve happily taken the secret of her magic to the grave. Now with Graysen staring down at her, hate and hurt burning in his eyes, all manner of lies and pleas tangled her tongue.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” was all she could manage.

“So you lied to me instead?” he roared, fists clenched at his sides. Elain recoiled; he’d never raised his voice to her before. “You put everyone in this village at risk?”

“But I never use magic, today was the first time in–”

“It doesn’t matter if you use it! Demons can smell a witch from miles away! You might’ve hidden it from us, but you can’t hide from a demon.”

“Enough,” said Lord Nolan to his son. “There is only one thing left to do.”

“Graysen,” she whimpered.

Her fiance cut the ropes and hauled her to her feet. With their faces close, as close as they’d been when he’d made love to her last night, he hissed, “Magic is a sickness.”

He shoved her out of the shed. As she stumbled out into a world ablaze with the red clouds of sunset, she realized a crowd had gathered on the manor grounds.

Graysen’s solemn voice continued behind her: “And fire is the cure.”

Elain turned and ran.

But Graysen and his father were waiting, and they each seized one of her elbows and lifted her off the ground. She kicked and flailed and screamed, but she was no match for the two men. Over her shoulder, she saw a hastily-built platform, and rising above it, lit like a beacon by the last rays of daylight, a tall, wooden pole. A nest of hay and firewood lay at its base.

After tossing her into the shed, Graysen had taken the time to construct a pyre, only a few yards away from the garden Elain had been cultivating for months. He’d done it before asking her for an explanation, before speaking to her at all.

“Please,” Elain wept, “please don’t do this.”

They pulled her onto the platform, and she once again felt the rough drag of ropes around her wrists. Her feet sank into a pile of hay, stabbed from all sides by sharp twigs. She whimpered, “Don’t do this,” over and over again until the words dissolved into sobs.

Graysen appeared before her again. Someone had given him a torch. The dancing flames cast eerie shadows over his handsome face, twisting it into something more suited to the hatred it bore.

Breathless from her sobs, Elain strained towards him. “I love you!” A gasp, a plea.

She thought she saw a flicker of pain pass over his face, but it may have only been a trick of the flame. “You know why I have to do this,” he whispered. “I won’t let the demons turn you into a weapon.”

He lowered the torch. Elain screamed.

The heat of the flame licked towards Elain’s feet, but then the flame drew back as if struck by a gust of wind. She watched as the fire leapt from the torch and shot like an arrow into the crowd. People screamed and scattered, and the ball of flame spun in quick orbit around the only man who had not fled.

In the bloodred twilight, the spinning fire gave Elain glimpses of the man’s features: blazing hair, brown skin, a web of scars bursting from an eye that gleamed gold. Lips pulled back into a smirk that revealed an unnaturally long and sharp tooth, which he drew his tongue across.

He was too far away and too dimly lit for Elain to see his other eye, but she knew what it looked like. Fear and fury twined deep in her stomach.

His gaze never left Elain’s as he ambled forward. “You humans do love to complicate matters.” He lifted his hand and twirled it, and the flame drifted up to circle his long, slender fingers.

“Demon,” Graysen gasped.

The stranger gave a wry smirk. “Astute observation.”

Lord Nolan recovered more quickly than his son, calling out to the crowd, “To arms, men!”

“There’s no need for such dramatics.” With a flick of his wrist, the flame darted to the ground and raced along the grass, drawing a large semicircle around the demon. Wherever the fire went, it grew into a wall of flame that blocked the demon from view of the mob. All the while, his gaze stayed locked onto Elain. “I’ve no interest in your sad, backwater village.” He bent into an elegant bow. The light of the surrounding flames made the shades of his hair seem to flow like a molten river as it swept over his shoulder.

When he straightened, he gave Elain a smile she might’ve called charming, if not for the fang it revealed, or the hellfire glow rimming his golden eye. He looked so normal: no horns, no claws, no cloven hooves. But those eyes burned through her, tore deeper than flesh, deeper than the hate roiling in her heart. He pulled at her in a way that could only be by infernal design. “I am here for my witch and nothing less.”

Elain’s breaths came out in shallow rasps. She clenched her fists, still bound behind her back, as she glared down at the smirking demon, the beast draped in a human guise. It was only the distance between them that kept her from spitting at him. My witch, he’d called her. As if she belonged to him. As if with that bite, he’d claimed her. Yet even as her lip curled, his earlier words thrummed in her memory. She spoke through gritted teeth, “You would leave this village alone?”

He placed a hand over his chest–did he even have a heart there? “You have my word. Come with me, and I will leave this village and all its inhabitants unharmed.”

Her shoulders slumped. Demons could not lie. They found other ways to deceive–disguising themselves, for example–but if he said he would leave the village unharmed, that, at least, she could accept. If she could save the innocents of this village–save Graysen–at least she’d be damned for a noble cause.

“All right,” Elain breathed. “All right, I’ll go with you, just… leave this place in peace.” She dragged her gaze over to Graysen, to the future she could’ve had. “Graysen, I…”

Graysen slowly turned to face her. “I won’t let him have you.”

She gave a laugh of relief before her breath was stolen by a burst of pain. Her giddy smile began to fade as she looked down to where Graysen had rammed a dagger into her stomach.

Heat blasted her face. She looked up when she heard Graysen gasp, and there on the platform before them was the demon–the true demon. Horns of amber iridescence curled above his fiery hair, framing that same handsome face now twisted in rage. The hand that had so idly toyed with fire wrapped around Graysen’s neck.

Lord Nolan lunged, but without looking, the demon used his free hand to seize the man’s outstretched arm and flung him from the platform. Pinpricks of blood trailed down Graysen’s neck as the demon tightened his grip.

“Such arrogance,” the demon snarled. He lifted Graysen into the air and brought his face close, baring his fangs. “I’ll rip that dark heart from your chest.”

An awful sound gurgled in Graysen’s throat, and the demon reared back his free hand, readying his claws to strike.

“Stop!” A gout of blood muffled Elain’s scream, but it was enough to catch the demon’s attention. Those eyes of gold and russet locked onto her. The demon dropped Graysen like he was a sack of grain. He raised a leg–covered in fur the same red as his hair–and slammed his cloven hoof down onto Graysen’s stomach.

Elain’s legs buckled. Gasping, she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain shooting through her.

With a snap, the ropes fell from her wrists. She crumpled but did not hit the ground, collapsing instead into a pair of strong arms. Light flared against her shut eyes, the wooden platform fell away beneath her, and Elain surrendered to oblivion.

—

The screams and the roaring flames were silenced all at once, replaced by crickets, rustling leaves, and a hooting owl. Beneath the agony, Elain felt a dim sense of relief. Better to die out here in the woods, where she could weep and wail with no witnesses but the trees.

Then she felt claws digging into her arms, and she realized she was not alone at all.

She opened her eyes to find the demon frowning over her. She thought he would’ve dumped her in the woods, disposing of a failed investment. Instead, he held her tight and lowered her to the ground. When he settled her into his lap, Elain didn’t have the energy to be horrified. His body was hot as a furnace, and she couldn’t stop shivering.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmured with surprising solemnity. His claws brushed sweat-slick hair from her brow. Elain should have recoiled, should have screamed; but it took all her strength not to whimper at the gentle touch. It hurt, the endless waves of pain spiraling out from her stomach, almost as potent as the despair in her heart. Graysen had killed her. He saw that she was damned and chose to damn her further. He’d not even bothered to fight for her.

“This was not what I’d intended,” the demon continued. “I expected I’d have to steal you, not save you.”

Through gritted teeth, she rasped, “You did this.”

She recognized the fox in that gaze, yet beneath the keen curiosity there lurked a spark of desperation. “Yes, I did.”

His arms still wrapped around her, he lifted both hands and sank a claw into his palm. As the blood trailed down his hand, he said, “I do hope you’ll live to make me regret it.”

Elain’s vision blurred. Her eyes drifted closed, but the demon shook her back to consciousness.

“Bind yourself to me, Elain Archeron!” He did not raise his voice, but it lost its gentleness. “Draw on my life force. If you survive, you’ll have as long as you need to plot your revenge on me. Accept this bond, and I swear no man nor beast like me will ever harm you again.”

Elain could not say why she did it. It was not that she trusted him, nor did she understand him. A demon was blasphemy made flesh, yet even as he gripped her arm, his claws did not slice her clothes. It may have only been that she wanted the pain to stop. Or perhaps it was that no one’s gaze had ever pierced her so thoroughly, made her feel so bare, and she refused to let him get away with it. Maybe it was only that the shade of his glimmering amber horns made her yearn for just one more sunrise.

Whatever the reason, she used the last of her strength to take his wrist and pull it close, until his blood warmed her lips. The demon’s golden eye flared like the sun cresting the horizon. Elain parted her lips. She gasped as the blood seared her tongue.

“Shh.” The demon turned his hand to brush his fingertips down her cheek, resting them beneath her jaw as he kept his open wound at her mouth. “Relax. Let it in.”

His voice rumbled down to the base of her spine. Like too-hot tea, the blood burned all the way to her stomach, and there it smoldered–and soothed. The heat dimmed to a warmth that radiated down to her toes, and her shuddering limbs relaxed. Elain surged forward with newfound strength, lapping her tongue across the demon’s hand.

The demon traced the claw of his thumb featherlight across her brow. “Good girl,” he murmured, “you’re doing well.” She caught sight of a fang as he seemed to cringe. Draw on my life force. Is that what it meant to accept a demon pact? That he could use his energy to grant her life? To grant her power?

But Elain did not dwell on that. There was no room for rational thought. She sucked down the demon’s blood with the frenzy of an animal escaping death. All the while, he bowed over her and whispered praise and soothing words, even as his voice grew more strained.

When he pulled his hand away at last, Elain cried out at the loss. She found herself licking stray blood from her lips. The pain was gone, but her strength was short-lived. Her limbs grew heavy, and her head rolled back to rest upon the demon’s arm.

“Sleep now, my dear.”

“Who are you?” She’d wanted the words to be accusatory, suspicious, wrathful; but all she could manage was a tired mumble.

The demon cocked his head. A beam of moonlight streaked white around the first curve of his left horn. “My name is Lucien.”

“Lucien.” Her eyelids fluttered closed. “I hate you.”

He chuckled at her declaration, which might’ve offended her, if she had the capacity to feel anything but exhaustion. Before blissful darkness settled over her, she thought she felt a claw tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #pro elucien

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velidewrites · 1 year

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With time as an enemy he cannot defeat, Lucien Vanserra gives up on love as he watches his mortal lover marry another man.

Until five hundred years later, he runs into her at a party.

Pairing: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Warnings: Vampires (sexy), smut

Notes: This is my submission for @sjmromanceweek Day 6: Anniversaries. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Elain looked so beautiful in a wedding dress.

It was almost as though she was born to wear pearls—somehow, they shone brighter on her person than in solitude. Her handmaidens—or, perhaps, Elain herself—had twisted strings into the lace of her gloves, the dress, her hair. His hand, resting loosely at his side, twitched. It had been almost ten hours since he’d tangled his fingers in those long curls, shimmering in a warm shade of golden brown that reminded him of dripping honey.

She’d tied them up in a high updo now—had made it impossible for a man to bury his hands in her wild locks, the way he always used to whenever she’d left them cascading freely down her back. He wondered if she’d done it on purpose—a sign that she wouldn’t allow such privilege any longer, not even him, the man she was about to marry.

Lucien hated that man.

Hated wasn’t the right word to describe it, not really. Greysen Nolan, nobleman or not, was not and would never be worthy of Elain—Lucien’s Elain.

And yet, Lucien had been the one that pushed her straight into his arms.

He loathed himself even more for it.

Still, what he had done. He thought that even now as he watched the silky train of her dress float gently atop the grass. Elain had always wanted to get married in a garden. At sunrise, she’d once told him, her gaze drifting off into the distance—into the sky stretching over the meadow. Their meadow.

It was sunrise now, and they were in a garden, and yet Elain…and yet Elain looked as though she was going to break down into tears.

Her guests wouldn’t notice it, not with the thick lace of her veil draped over her face—but Lucien…Lucien was forced to see every inch of it. Was forced to watch the swollen, puffy face of the woman he loved, her pink-stained cheeks and blurry eyes, knowing he was the reason for her anguish.

He was the reason for all of it.

They never should have met, he thought, even as his frozen heart clenched in protest. Everything inside him, from every dead nerve in his body to his empty lungs, wanted to scream. Scream at the guests, tearing up and smiling at they watched the bride walk down the aisle. Scream at Nolan, waiting at the other end of it. Scream at the gods for being born, and then at his father for letting him be born again. Finally, he wanted to scream at himself—scream at the betrayal he’d committed, and at his reason, the same one that argued that in five hundred years, he’d look back at this day and it had been worth it.

Elain had finally reached the end of the aisle, had finally reached her husband-to-be, and Lucien gripped the thick branch of the tree he hid in the shade of. Stray pieces of bark, dry and sharp, dug into his skin and pierced it open, but Lucien paid them no mind. After all, there was no pain that stung at the wound, no blood that poured out of it.

Another proof that Lucien was, and would always be, empty.

Greysen Nolan lifted Elain’s veil and smiled—smiled as though he couldn’t see her face, still swollen with tears from last night. Perhaps he really couldn’t—perhaps when he looked at his fiancée, all he could see was her pretty face.

Lucien’s fist tightened and the branch snapped in half.

Elain looked up at the man, her doe-like eyes big and watery. He could see it even as he stood miles away from the scene, and for a brief moment, Lucien cursed the enhanced abilities his condition had granted him. He would’ve sold his soul all over again if it meant he would never have to see her wet, dark lashes heave under the weight of her tears.

He had promised himself he would stay—stay and watch until the very end. But as Elain took Greysen’s encouraging hand, something twisted inside of him—something that threatened to bring him to his knees and wail until it was all over.

And so, as his mortal lover opened her mouth to proclaim her love for another, Lucien turned and walked away.

***

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS LATER

The entire place reeked of blood.

Bittersweet, with a metallic tinge to it—iron, he knew that now. Modern medicine still amazed him at times.

Fresh and pulsing, it ran in those hot, sweaty bodies, exposed and rubbing against each other as they danced under the pink, dim light. The scent filled his nostrils, and Lucien released a shaky breath. So many people.

And he was fucking starving.

It was the only reason he’d come out of the house on a day like this. He’d been abstinent for too long—over a month now, maybe two. He’d lost count after three weeks or so—after that, every day was pure torture.

Mercifully, Rita’s was close enough. Lucien had deliberately chosen the darkest, dirtiest part of Manhattan as his home—its proximity to the only place in the city that served to his kind’s needs was enough to get him to stay.

Even if he’d spent the last few years somewhere else.

Hibernating deep in the north of Scotland had been nothing but pure bliss. He’d allowed his mind to shut off completely and would only jerk awake when hunger pressed too heavily onto his senses to continue ignoring it. He would hunt occasionally, stumbling upon small, local bars and feed on those he deemed to be a lot like him—people that no one in this world would ever miss.

And then, he caught a glimpse of a woman, a bartender with golden-brown hair—not the exact same shade as hers, but so brutally familiar that he was forced to leave. Again.

The reason he’d left Manhattan all those years ago was practically the same. A woman again, with brown eyes this time. Not that deep, chocolate colour he remembered so well, but beaming with a similar kind of warmth as she walked her child to school—and that was enough. Lucien hadn’t even packed a bag. He’d just…left.

And ever since he’d returned, he’d been nothing but an empty shell, wasting in the darkness of his apartment.

At last, he’d made his way through the crowd and sat at the bar, the flimsy stool swaying under his weight.

“Same as usual?” a voice greeted, bright as ever, and Lucien raised his gaze.

“Vassa,” he breathed, and his friend smiled. “You’ve…aged.”

Her blue eyes darkened, like the sky announcing the coming of a storm. “It’s been six years, Lucien.”

He frowned. “Really? It feels like less,” he said, and Vassa scoffed.

“To you, I’m sure.” She bent down, reaching for something under the bar. “What’s that like?”

“Not as nice as you’d think,” he only said, his stare fixed on the silver bottle she’d pulled out. Lucien gulped. It smelled very strongly of blood.

In a torturously slow, human way, Vassa filled a cup—silver, too, to mask its contents—with the thick liquid before finally passing it to him.

The blood hit the back of his throat, and his entire body shook in relief. In less than five second, the cup was emptied, and Lucien breathed out deeply. “Thank you. I needed this.”

Vassa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “How long has it been?”

“I’m…not sure,” he admitted.

Her gaze narrowed. “Why are you torturing yourself, Lucien?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she told him stiffly. “You need to eat, too. Stop punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

If you only knew.

But Lucien said anyway, “Six years, and you still know me so well.”

She shrugged. “Some things never change. Unfortunately,” she added, though her lip curved up in a teasing smile. Lucien didn’t meet it.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Today…today’s the anniversary.”

Something changed in her expression at that, and her eyes softened. “The wedding?”

Pearls dipped in honey, the lace white as death, tear-stained cheeks…

“You look well,” Lucien swallowed hard.

“I thought I looked old.”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested. “I said you’ve aged.”

Vassa rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that the same thing? I’m twenty-eight now, Lucien. Wrinkles are a thing.”

“What I mean is…” he sighed. “You look happier than the last time I saw you.”

She angled her head, something searching in her cerulean eyes. “I wish I could say the same.”

Lucien waved a hand. “I didn’t come here for a therapy session, Vassa. I was hungry.”

“Fine.” She threw the cloth over her shoulder, resting a hand on her hip. “Another?”

“Please,” he nodded, and she reached for the bottle again.

Lucien looked at his friend. Twenty-eight. He was even younger when he was turned.

She looked good, though—he truly meant it earlier. There was something new about her—a glow she hadn’t had before that had nothing to do with the club lights. It shimmered from a place deep inside of her, as if from her very soul. Lucien used to know what that felt like.

And so he asked, “So, what’s his name?”

Vassa paused for a moment, the liquid still pouring into his cup. “What?”

“The man you’re seeing,” he explained, something tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s his name?”

Her cheeks heated. “Jurian,” she said quietly. “We’ve been seeing each other for six months.”

“Does he treat you well?”

She nodded, that glow shining from her golden-brown skin again. “He does,” she said with a small smile. “He works here, actually.”

Lucien’s brows knotted. “He does?”

Vassa pointed her chin to the entrance behind him, and Lucien turned. “He’s a security guard.”

He followed her gaze until he found him—a tall man, muscular under his rolled-up sleeves, revealing too much…hair.

Lucien grimaced. “That’s a werewolf if I’ve ever seen one.”

Vassa went completely still. “A what?”

He looked to her again. “Surely you’ve realised, if not for the dirty look some of your regulars have been shooting him, then at least for the smell.”

“The smell?” she asked weakly.

“He smells like a wet dog,” he explained, and Vassa’s eyes widened.

“Oh, God, he does.” She swallowed hard. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “You really didn’t know.”

“I…” Vassa shook her head, her red hair glinting under the lights. “This round’s on me, Lucien. Go…go dance, or something. I’ll be back later.”

And with that, she was gone. Lucien could all but raise his cup to her.

Go dance, she’d told him. Lucien looked at the crowd—at the sweaty bodies, moving in unison to a song that could make his ears bleed—if there was any blood left in his veins.

Most of them were human, though it’s been so long since he’d sensed another vampire’s presence that he was reluctant to trust his own judgement. So many—too many, perhaps—of his kind had learned how to blend into this world, how to fade into it until hunger forced them to come out again.

Lucien sighed. Somewhere by the entrance, he could see Vassa and her werewolf boyfriend shouting, though the loud music had blocked out their specific words even to him. He could see her tears, though—streaming down her face as she pointed a finger into his chest. Lucien turned away. There was something about female tears he couldn’t withstand anymore.

Perhaps a distraction was exactly what he needed, he thought, looking to the dancing crowd again. Perhaps he could…forget.

Lucien stood and made his way forward.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, exactly, his only aim to push through as many bodies as possible. There was something out there though, that called out to him—like a magnet drawing him in until he finally got where he needed to be.

Where he needed to be, apparently, was a large group of people circling around a couple, and Lucien frowned. Some of them cheered, raising their hands in triumph as the man—their friend, he guessed—groped the backside of the woman in front of him.

She looked like she could be the magnet—from the back, at least, from the way her hips swayed against him, draped in a tight, shimmering dress of the lightest pink. Her hair was pulled up messily, the updo ruined more and more with each move, and her hands reached back to wrap around his neck, long and slender.

In one, quick motion, the woman turned, her face revealed to the world.

The world had gone quiet.

Lucien was still as death, even as more bodies pushed past him, curious to see the commotion at the centre. He could all but stare, his ears ringing from the silence.

Slowly, Lucien swallowed, his spit carrying the remnants of someone’s blood in his mouth.

And then, his heart—his cold, dead heart—clenched in one, singular beat.

Elain, it thrummed.

Elain, Elain, Elain.

***

Elain could tell she was being watched.

She’d finally got the asshole to follow her to a back alley, dark and private—exactly as she wanted it. He’d only stopped screaming after two minutes or so, and she really, really did not need an audience today.

There was a special kind of thrill about digging her teeth into the neck of a man utterly convinced he was about to have sex. It made up for the taste of his blood—watery and with a hint of sourness, a common occurrence in drunken prey.

Still, Elain wasn’t going to complain.

Three minutes, and she still wasn’t satiated. He wasn’t dead yet—not that she wanted him to die, but Elain wasn’t exactly planning on sparing him only to go on about her night hungry. Starving, really.

And whoever hid in the shadows behind her was not going to ruin her plans.

She let the man fall to the ground, bloodied and unconscious, and her back straightened.

“Are you done staring?” she asked quietly.

“Not quite,” the response came, and Elain froze.

His voice was as rich and deep as she remembered.

“Is it really you?” Lucien asked quietly.

Slowly, Elain turned. “Have you forgotten me so easily?”

He stepped into the dim streetlight—the man that left her all those years ago.

His voice was hoarse as he told her, “Never. I could never forget you, Elain.”

Elain’s fists tightened at her sides.

I’ll never forget you, Elain.

Please, forgive me.

“Well,” she said, forcing cool, casual indifference into her tone, “If we’re done here, I’m going to get back to my…” she waved a hand toward the body behind her. “Thing.”

Another step forward. “Done?” he asked. So still, so quiet.

“Is there anything left to say?” she challenged, hoping—praying—he wouldn’t notice the slight tremble of her jaw.

A long look of those russet eyes. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Elain scoffed. “You’ve never been one to beat around the bush, have you? Let me make this easier for you: I’m not interested.”

His eyes flashed. “We have an audience,” he said, and only then did Elain look around.

There were people—people at the end of the alley who’d stopped in their tracks, too curious for their own good. Elain wondered if they’d managed to spot the body beside her yet.

“Fine,” she agreed.

The loud music exploded in her ears as they entered the club again, and Elain grimaced. “Upstairs, you said?” she asked Lucien.

The man nodded. “I know the owner.” Of course he did.

In the small room directly above the club, Lucien closed the door behind her and turned on the light.

Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

The bastard was as beautiful as she remembered.

Even here, under the pale, grey light, his golden brown skin shone as if with a light on its own, that auburn hair flowing down his strong back. He’d grown it out since she’d last seen him. It suited him.

Lucien crossed his arms over his chest—and damn him, his shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing a toned, muscular frame that she couldn’t help but want to touch. It had been so long. So long since she’d felt his warm hands on her, since she’d felt the dizzying sweep of his tongue over her skin.

He angled his head—as if he knew exactly what she was thinking—and those lips had the audacity to twitch.

“Elain,” he drawled. She hated the sound of her name on his lips. As if he’d liked saying it.

Her own arms crossed, and she quickly let them fall to her sides again as she realised she was mirroring his own movements. That stupid grin widened.

“I’m not interested,” she repeated, though she wasn’t sure why. It was, after all, completely, utterly untrue.

“In what?” Lucien asked. “Conversation?”

She swallowed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You married him.” It sounded like an accusation.

Elain’s gaze hardened. “You told me to.”

“Because with him, you could have had a life.”

Elain sighed. “Just ask me what you want to ask me, Lucien,” she said, and he flinched.

“Why are you still alive?”

Because when you left, the only thing I could think about was having you back at my side. Because I dreamt of you every single night while sharing a bed with another. Because you were the only light in my life, and when you left, I started to drown in the darkness.

Because I couldn’t live out my life with him knowing I should have been with you.

She shrugged. “I got bored.”

Lucien hissed. “You were never a good liar, Elain.”

“What does it matter, Lucien?” she threw her arms up, exasperated. “Why do you care that I’m alive? You left me, Lucien. That day, exactly five hundred years ago, you left me to die.”

Silence fell, filled only by the muffled vibrations of the dance floor underneath.

And then, Lucien asked, “Who turned you?”

Elain’s shoulders slumped. “My sister’s mate.”

Lucien stilled. “Her mate?” The question was merely a whisper.

Elain whispered back, “Yes.”

Everything changed when she’d learned that term—when Feyre had appeared at her doorstep, two years after being presumed dead, a tall, handsome man at her side. I’m sorry, she’d whispered then. I’m sorry, but I love him. He’s my mate.

“You could’ve offered to turn me,” Elain found herself say. “You could’ve offered to change me, and we could’ve spent eternity together.”

“Would you have wanted it?” he asked, and even though he didn’t have to continue, he did. “A life filled with nothing but darkness and the stench of blood? You wanted sunlight, Elain. You wanted the scent of flowers under your feet. You wanted a life—a human life.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t give that to you.”

“I would’ve given it all up for you,” she whispered.

“And that would’ve made me a true monster.”

For the first time in centuries, Elain’s eyes started to burn. “Who cares?” she asked, and Lucien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who cares, Lucien? I was a shell without you; I went to sleep every night thinking about where you were, what you’ve been doing. Who you’ve been doing it with,” she added bitterly.

“There was no one,” Lucien breathed. “There was no one after you.”

“There should have never been an after me!” she yelled, and Lucien stumbled back a step. “I wanted you. You, Lucien. Not a sunrise over the gardens, not a man I could’ve grown old with in a house full of flowers, and—and,” she swallowed, the salty taste of tears filling her throat. She didn’t think she could cry again.

“They would’ve killed you,” Lucien said quietly, and Elain stilled.

“What?”

“There was someone,” he started. “Centuries before you. Her name was Jesminda, and she was mortal.”

Elain fell back a step, her back hitting the iron bed frame.

Lucien continued, “I was in love with her, and I didn’t care about anything else. But…” his eyes lifted to meet her own, “my clan did.”

“Your clan?”

He nodded. “Beron Vanserra was the name of the man who turned me. We all called him our father, but believe me when I say there wasn’t anything fatherly about him at all. When he found out about Jesminda,” his throat bobbed. “When he found out about Jesminda, he sent my brothers after her. She was mortal—tainted, he’d called her. Unworthy.”

“What happened to her?” Elain whispered.

Lucien’s eyes dimmed. “They beheaded her in front of my eyes. I couldn’t stop it.”

“Lucien…”

“And then I met you. And I knew I never should’ve pursued it, but you were so kind, so full of light, and I haven’t seen the sun in centuries—and…and I couldn’t help but fall in love with you, Elain. I couldn’t help it.

“Seeing you now…” he swallowed hard. “I wish I told you back then. But most of the time,” he said, “most of the time, I wish I’d kissed you and never let go.”

Elain looked into his eyes and said, “Then don’t.”

“Elain,” he breathed.

“Don’t let me go. You are mine, and I am yours,” she told him, the urge to be near him suddenly so overwhelming it seemed to sing straight from her chest. “Don’t let me go again,” she repeated.

Lucien’s eyes burned.

And then, in five hundred years of repressed need, his lips crashed against hers.

He tasted of blood and fire. Elain moaned.

Strong, large hands held her waist tightly, backing her up until her back laid fully on the worn-out mattress with a soft croak. He pulled away, panting as their lips parted, and Elain watched with heat rising through her body as he moved to undo his shirt.

Lucien’s gaze, glazed with lust, travelled down her body, studying every inch with a ferocity that made her toes curl into the sheets and her own hands move toward the laces of her dress.

When the last remnants of their clothes fell to the floor, Elain stopped breathing.

He was thick and heavy in his hand, throbbing with the same need that pulsed in her own core, coating it in slick. Lucien’s eyes shifted to the sight and grew impossibly dark.

Elain swallowed. “You’re mine,” she told him again.

A low growl erupted from his chest.

“Lucien,” she urged, and he met her pleading stare again.

“Patience, my lady,” he drawled, and Elain’s back arched at the nickname he’d given her all those years ago.

“Lucien, I need…”

“What do you need, Elain?”

Her eyes settled on his cock. “Show me how much you missed me.”

He smiled.

She held her breath as he leaned over her, pressing another kiss to her lips. A soft whimper escaped her at the small tug of sharp teeth on her bottom lip, at the flicker of tongue over where he’d bit it. Ever so slightly, Lucien pulled away, and gently brushed his thumb over her mouth.

Elain captured it with her lips, her tongue sweeping a small circle over the skin. A sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know—and her gaze dropped to where his cock twitched in anticipation.

Slowly, his finger moved down her body, tracing every inch until she could all but tremble under the grazing touch. Elain’s eyes fluttered shut as he finally reached it—her entrance, hot and seeping with need.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, and swirled his finger lightly over her clit.

Elain gasped, the shuddering sound reverberating down her spine, and Lucien hummed in approval, that damned fingertip on her again, working in light circles exactly where she needed it.

“Good, Elain,” Lucien praised quietly. “You’re going to come as many times as I want you to before you get what you so desperately want.”

She needed him inside of her so badly that she wanted to cry. Her walls clenched tightly, craving friction, but his hand remained on the swelling bud, focused on drawing those moans of pleasure from her throat, on watching her face contort with pleasure until her head fell back onto her pillow with a stifled groan.

She was so impossibly wet that Lucien’s fingers were coated in her slick. He hummed appreciatively, and Elain moaned again. It was too much, it was not enough, it was everything at once.

“Lucien?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“Please.”

Another hum. “Since you ask so nicely,” he said, his fingers leaving her pulsing cunt. “I have been starving.”

Lucien lowered himself until he was nestled between her thighs, and Elain’s entire body shook as he pressed a soft kiss to her clit.

Elain could’ve died then—died at the feeling of his full lips wrapped around the swollen bundle of nerves. He sucked her clit relentlessly, his tongue flicking and swirling in a hungry pace that had her melt down to her very bones.

Her hand shot into his hair and gripped it as he slid his middle finger inside her, pushing past her slick folds with ease. Thunder started to gather at her core, threatening to explode any second, but Lucien kept pumping in and out of her slowly, that tongue not leaving her for a damn second.

Soaked in her pleasure, Elain breathed tightly, “Lucien.”

And then, she erupted.

Her body fell flat against the mattress beneath her, release thumping through her heart, her veins as he coaxed her through it, his lips so warm against her core.

His breath was hot against the soft skin of her thigh as he whispered, “Mine.”

Elain’s eyes closed with ease. “Yes.” She wiggled her hips lightly, urging him to move again. “Lucien.” It almost came out as a whine.

A breathy laugh that sent lightning down her spine again. “So impatient.”

Elain snarled. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

In a blink of a second, she was flipped onto her stomach, Lucien’s hard cock pressed against her backside. Elain’s breath caught.

Lucien’s hand slid down her body and cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between two fingers with an appreciative hum. Elain’s mouth went dry, and she moved her hips again, delighting in the feel of his straining cock between his muscular thighs.

With a soft growl, Lucien dragged its thick head against her folds, relishing in their wetness, and Elain gasped again as he lowered his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her spine.

“You’re mine,” he told her, and sunk deep into her core.

The moan that slipped past her throat was long and obscene, and she hadn’t realised—hadn’t realised how much she’d yearned for this. For him.

They moved together in bliss, his fingers digging lightly into her hips as he dragged himself in an out of her, stroking against that spot that made her see the stars. Her entire body tingled in response to his touch, to the feel of him inside of her, stretching her so deliciously she never wanted it to end.

Thankfully, they had forever.

And then, just when their breath began to grow shorter, Lucien reached down between her legs, his fingers settling right over her clit.

It was enough to send her over the edge, and a strangle cry escaped her the moment he came with a rough, breathy groan. Lucien spoke her name like a hoarse prayer, and she knew—she knew that nothing would ever keep them apart again.

When he’d finally laid beside her, still buried deep in her core and filling her nicely, Lucien grazed his fingers against her neck.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, and Elain shivered.

“Always?” she asked, even if she knew the answer.

“Yes.”

Taglist: @vulpes-fennec @melting-houses-of-gold @kingofsummer93 @nova-stardragon @theknittingoracle @isterofimias @augustinerose

#sjmromanceweek2023 #elucien au #elucien smut #elucien fic #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing

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trickster-kat · 1 year

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Nolan 'Arvin' Zarek, Jr. Preview

#shall we date?#otome games #swd #preview #love tangle #shall we date? love tangle #nolan “arvin” zarek jr #nolan

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mystical-flute · 10 months

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Home is Wherever I'm With You: Chapter 11

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The war with Regina was finally over, and King George was defeated as well, which was a huge weight off David’s shoulders. Though Snow knew the truth of who he was, it was nice to know that the one person would could - and would relish in - ruin it for the rest of the kingdom was no longer an issue, having been locked in a dungeon and guarded by residents of the kingdom who were more than happy to see him rot. Even if George did spill the beans, David couldn’t help but wonder who would actually look worse: The man who who had been pulled from poverty and whose mother was slain in order to keep up the charade up, or the man who had run his kingdom into poverty and had pulled wool over the eyes of his kingdom for years with senseless wars and violence?

David sighed and gazed out at the forest as dawn broke over the horizon, and leaned against the balcony railing. His mother would have loved it here, with the large pastures and the availability of food, and Snow, of course. He would have loved being able to get to know Snow and everyone else they’d fought with.

Ruth could have been the mother Snow never had.

David’s heart ached at the thought.

“CHARMING!” Snow shouted, breaking him of his thoughts.

He raced back into their bedroom, the balcony doors slamming shut behind him as he looked at his wife, who was tangled up in the bedsheets. “Snow! My God, what happened? Was it another nightmare in the Netherworld?”

Snow placed a hand on her chest, taking deep breaths to try to steady her panicked heart. “Sort of… I met someone else there. Charming, he said his name was James, that he was George’s son and… and he looked just like you.”

David felt the color drain from his face. “What? How could that be possible? James died! That’s why I was dragged into this whole mess to begin with!”

“Well apparently he didn’t, David! Apparently he’s still in a sleeping curse!”

“We have to find him. Did he say where he was?”

“His best guess was somewhere in the palace. He said he remembered his guards grabbing him as he fell.”

“Then that’s where we search,” David said, light on his feet as he moved toward the door. “We’ll tear this castle apart until he’s found.”

His brother was alive… there would be issues they had to deal with in the aftermath of James waking up, but David couldn’t think of that right now.

He needed to save him first.

-----

“Well, I guess I can’t deny you being my brother, can I?” David - because apparently that was his name - laughed as he looked at the identical man in the chair next to his hospital bed. “Can I ask where my scar came from though?”

“Oh, you wiped out on a bike,” Elijah Nolan replied with a shrug. “We were teenagers, just graduated from high school and we were excited and started our celebration early. It wasn’t a big deal but Mom thought you were going to bleed out.” There was a fondness in Elijah’s voice and eyes that suggested their mother was no longer alive, but still, he wanted to know.

“What happened to her? Mom?”

Elijah sighed. “Cancer. She fought like a champ but…”

David nodded. “I figured it was something like that. Was she a good mother?”

“The best. She was a single mother to identical twins who ran her ragged,” Elijah said with a laugh. “We didn’t have much, but she made sure we never felt like we were missing anything growing up, you know?”

David nodded and smiled weakly. “Sounds like we were quite the pair.” A noise from the doorway had him glancing up. “Ah, Kathryn.”

“Morning David. Elijah.”

Something weird flickered between the two of them, but both quickly masked it as Kathryn approached the bed, a small box in her hand.

“I found this at Mr. Gold’s. He said it belonged to your mother, so I’m hoping it might trigger something.”

“Our mom?” Elijah questioned. “Wait, you don’t mean - ”

David opened the box, revealing a necklace inside. Oh, yes, he did remember this! It was one of his mother’s most prized possessions, one she never took off, except to give to Snow -

Wait, Snow? Who was -

Searing pain suddenly flooded his head as memories burst through his mind. Two sets of them - one of a fantastic, magical forest that had him married to the love of his life with a child on the way, and ending with a sword fight in front of a wooden, magical wardrobe, and he heard himself whisper “find us” before everything went dark. Those memories faded into ones from a much more mundane world. The life of a man who worked at a vet office as a technician, who was married to a lawyer (but not the same woman from the magical world, not the wife that had felt familiar…), but the memories soured quickly with the reveal of an affair, of shattered dreams and broken promises and then once again, everything went dark.

Prince Charming and David Nolan both gasped and clutched at his head as everything settled like water after a ship had gone through it.

“David?” Abigail - Kathryn - asked. “Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay, and it was obvious as he lifted his head from his hands. “You two slept together. That’s why I got into the accident.”

James - Elijah - winced and stood up, going to the door. “Yeah. We did. I’m just uh, gonna go get Dr. Whale and see if he can get you anything for your headache.”

The Charming side of him knew he couldn’t be mad because none of this was real - hell, he didn’t even know if James and Abigail had even met before James had fallen under the sleeping curse, but the David Nolan side of him was fuming and wanted to be left alone.

“Yes, I slept with your brother. David, I’m so sorry. Can we - can’t we work through this? After all, you almost died!”

“How can I look past you sleeping with my identical twin, Kathryn?” He hated that he felt like he needed to be angry here, but pressed on. “I’m sorry, but when I’m cleared, I want to continue the divorce. Please leave.”

And she did, tears in her eyes as she left the room with her things.

David sighed and dropped his head in his hands. Clearly, this was the Land Without Magic that the curse brought them to. Clearly, someone had wanted him awake and remembering the Enchanted Forest.

But who was it? And why did they want him aware?

----

Neal looked up at the loud thud that suddenly hit the table. Rather than a textbook, he saw Henry sitting in front of a large storybook, with “Once Upon a Time” written in gold lettering.

Well now, this couldn’t possibly be good.

“Hey kid, what’s that you’ve got there?” he asked casually, setting his camera down.

“It’s a book. Roxana asked me to keep it safe for her.”

Neal raised a brow. “Safe? From who?”

“Her mom.”

“Uh-huh, and why would her mom not want her reading fairy tales?”

“These aren’t just fairy tales, dad. Every story in this book actually happened. See? Look.” Henry paused to flip through the book, stopping at the end. On the page was Emma as a baby, wrapped in the purple blanket she’d had her whole life. “Mom’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She’s the one meant to break the curse on the town!”

Neal sighed and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I know bud. I know all about the curse. I just didn’t know it left such a big clue as to how to break it.” A very big, very obvious clue that could very easily end up in the wrong hands if they weren’t careful.

Henry nodded. “It’s cool, right? Roxana doesn’t trust her mom though, so she gave the book to me to keep it safe.”

“And Roxana’s mom is the Evil Queen who sent everyone here.”

Henry nodded. “Yeah! How did you know?”

Neal exhaled through his nose and flipped through the book, finally landing on his story. “Your grandfather and I have talked about it before. We’ve been trying to think of ways for your mom to start believing in the curse.”

“What have you come up with so far?”

“Be watchful of the things happening in town, try to invoke change slowly.”

“That’s not going to help break the curse!”

Neal raised a brow. “No? Then what will?”

“We have to force change to happen. We have to make people see that something is wrong here! Dad, these people are cursed, we can’t just force them to keep living that way!”

Neal shook his head. “Henry, you know Roxana’s mom is the Evil Queen. Doing anything too flashy will catch her attention. And she has the power to ground Roxana and make it so you can’t see her anymore.”

Henry seemed to understand that, at least, and frowned a little. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. But then how can we make mom understand that the curse is real?”

“Little details that… maybe don’t add up. There could be people around here besides her parents that might have stories that mirror the Enchanted Forest, or - ”

“Hey guys, I’m home!” Emma suddenly called, the door slamming shut behind her. Neal could tell there was a groan in her voice.

He closed Henry’s book and glanced in the direction of the front door. “Hey Emma. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a long day,” she replied. Neal didn’t miss the way she wrinkled her nose at the sight of Roxana’s book. “I - ah, had to help track down a pregnant girl. Apparently she’d made a deal with your dad to adopt the baby out and she changed her mind and was afraid to tell him, so she was going to run. Poor kid has it rough. Her stepmother and stepsister hate her, and I guess she works overtime at the laundromat to try to make ends meet. Turns out her other stepsister is Parrish’s wife, so I left when she got there. On the upside, Graham offered me a job as a deputy.”

“Did you take it?”

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I figured if I’m going to track down people in Storybrooke, I might as well get paid for it.”

Neal laughed. “Yeah, I hear you. I was thinking of getting some of my pictures printed to sell at the Miner’s Day festival. Maybe one day I can get a storefront in town.” Not that it would be hard given who his father was, but given no one knew their relation, he planned to do things on his own.

Emma smiled, looking more genuine than she did when they had to deal with curious neighbors or the people of Storybrooke in general. “That’ll be good. I’m sure you’ll sell out without issue. Especially your pictures of the city.”

“Hopefully. What happened with Papa and the girl?”

“He let Ashley out of her contract… though he may have had some influence from me. The best part is, her boyfriend stepped up. I told them they could come to us if they needed anything, since we were their age when Henry was born,” Emma explained, ruffling Henry’s hair with a smile. “Oh, and David Nolan apparently got his memories back. He said it was thanks to something at your dad’s shop. Pretty wild how fast it happened.”

Neal let out a nervous chuckle. “Almost like magic, huh?”

She snorted. “Yeah. Just like magic. Too bad we can’t use it to finish painting the house, huh?”

“Ah, we’ll be finished tomorrow. C’mon, we wanted breakfast for dinner, right? I’ll get it started.”

When Emma’s back turned, he gave a thumbs up to Henry, who looked over the moon at the mention of David’s memories coming back.

The change would be slow, but it would be worth it.

Right?

----

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” Will asked as the carriage rolled down the winding roads of the kingdom of Senaela.

“Not since Thomas’ ball,” Ana replied with a sigh. “I doubt Ella even knows anything that happened after Thomas tracked her down with that shoe.”

A shoe. A simple, non-magical shoe had been the reason her mother’s plans had come crashing down. Now that she was out of her mother’s terrible grasp and free to make her own way in the world, the thought of it having been a glass slipper to shatter her mother’s hopes and dreams made her laugh.

“I think Ella’ll be surprised to see that you became the Queen of Wonderland,” Will said. “Funny that the two daughters Beatrice hated the most ended up becoming royalty.”

“It is. Honestly, I should have known she hated me when she named me Clorinda of all things,” Ana sighed, slipping a silver mask on as the carriage slowed to a stop. Wonderland royals always wore them while meeting with royals from the Enchanted Forest. Ana had no idea why that was, but she was already on shaky ground with the Wonderland subjects, so she didn’t want to risk them finding out they hadn’t worn the masks and trying to overthrow them.

“Your majesties, welcome to Senaela. We are thrilled you accepted our invitation to the ball. It has been many years since we’ve had anyone from Wonderland here,” King Herman said when they were led into the palace.

“Thank you for the invitation. We are honored to be here,” Ana replied. “Tell me, where is the happy mother-to-be? I would like to give her my gift in private.”

“Ah, I believe she’s still getting ready. One of our guards will take you to her,” Herman said, gesturing for a guard to do just that.

“Princess Ella? The White Queen wishes to speak with you.”

“Send her in. Thank you.”

Ana stepped into the room, gift in hand and smiling as she gazed at her stepsister. “I see life has been most fair to you, Ella.”

Ella seemed a little troubled if she was being honest, but said nothing about it. “Thank you. What did you want to see me about?”

“Can’t a sister want her gift opened privately?”

Ella froze, eyes wide. “Sister? You can’t be - ”

“Tell me, how did my mother and Tisby react to my escape from this realm? I hope Mother was terrified.”

“Cl-Clorinda?”

Ana removed the mask with a smile. “It’s Anastasia now, darling.”

Tears filled Ella’s eyes as she rushed to hug her. “Anastasia, oh gods, we thought you were dead! What happened to you? How did you end up in Wonderland?”

“Do you remember Will Scarlet? The rogue who ran around with the Merry Men?”

Ella nodded.

“After you left, Mother turned her ire toward me instead, so I ran away with Will. We had a little cottage together, just the two of us, but Mother made it difficult for us to live a normal life. She kept trying to drag us into everything that happened with you. So Will, he - he stole a looking glass from a witch named Maleficent. It brought us to Wonderland, and I… did some things I’m not exactly proud of to end up on the throne. But Will brought me back from the edge, before I lost myself completely, and here we are,” she shrugged. Probably best not to tell Ella that she had, in fact, died. “But you don’t have to worry now, I’m here and I’m fine. And I have a gift for your new bundle of joy.”

Ella smiled, pulling the wrapping off the box. “Well, thank you Anastasia. Wait - is this…?”

“Yeah. The little dancer statue your mother made for you.”

Ella held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Where did - where did you find it? I thought your mother got rid of it years ago!”

“Having an ex-thief as a husband comes in handy sometimes,” Ana replied. “He found it on one of his raids with the Merry Men and brought it to me, but I knew you should be the one to have it, not me.”

“This is the best gift we’ve gotten for the baby. Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it, darling. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more to stop my mother from treating you as a maid.”

Ella shook her head. “Don’t be. You were kind to me despite her twisted teachings. I don’t know what happened to them, by the way. King Herman banished them from the kingdom after everything came to light. He made sure they weren’t welcome in Misthaven either, so I don’t know where they went. Maybe east to Maldonia?”

Ana’s lips pressed together. Hopefully her mother wouldn’t be able to sink her claws into any of King Anthony’s officials. “Right, well, that’s a shame. Are you ready to go downstairs? I’m sure Will has talked Herman and Thomas’ ears off by now.”

Ella smiled and set the dancer down on a shelf. “Of course. And Anastasia?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ana smiled. “Me too.”

The two stepsisters, once bitter rivals, stepped out of the nursery with their arms linked, a force of solidarity between the two that made King Herman even more delighted with his daughter-in-law. All was well, until a few days after the ball…

The White King had vanished while they’d been hosting their old friends Alice and Cyrus, leading to a frantic search among the group. The search had felt hopeless, until a mysterious looking glass appeared in the throne room.

“I hear you’re looking for a knave,” the woman dressed in black said.

In the background, Will struggled in the grip of a woman with short dark hair. “Anastasia, don’t - argh!”

“WILL!”

“If you don’t want your knave hurt, you’ll come here, dear White Queen,” the first woman said with a smirk. “I trust you know how a looking glass works.”

And Anastasia didn’t hesitate, even as Alice and Cyrus tried to pull her back.

She stepped through the glass and glanced around at the group of women surrounding a large bonfire. Will was on the ground, injured, but conscious. That was good, at least.

“What do you want? Who even are you?” she asked, looking at the woman in the black dress who had spoken to her.

“My name is Regina. My… friends and I are planning something wonderful,” Regina said with a small, twisted smile. “But we need your help. You are someone who has been brought back from death, aren’t you?”

“Wh - how would you have known that?”

“You would be amazed what news travels between the realms,” Regina replied with a shrug. “All we need is just a drop of your blood for our curse, and your knave will be released to you so you can be together in our final moments in this land.”

“Curse?” she heard Alice ask from behind them. “What sort of curse are you talking about?”

“It will take us to the Land Without Magic, and no, Alice Liddell, I do not mean yours,” another woman - that Ana recognized as Queen Nerissa of Andalasia - said. “This land has no connection to looking glasses, no magic beans, no hats. Magic there is merely a story parents tell their children at night.”

“And if you don’t willingly give us your blood, Anastasia, we’ll just kill all of you and take it anyway,” another woman that Anastasia didn’t recognize, said with a shrug.

Nerissa scoffed. “Madalena! There is a child present!”

Gods, Alice and Cyrus had done a lot of dumb things since she’d known them, but bringing their daughter here had to be the dumbest.

“If I give you my blood, I want something in exchange,” she said, looking at Regina. She seemed to be the ringleader here, so she must have been the one she needed to appeal to. “I want your word that in this world, Will and I, and Alice, Cyrus, and Amara, are happy and safe from those who might wish us harm. My mother is the former Lady Tremaine - ” She ignored the look of alarm from the other woman she didn’t recognize. “- I do not want anything to do with her in any world. Can you guarantee our happiness in the Land Without Magic?”

“I can,” Regina said. “Rest assured, you will be safe and happy in that world.”

Anastasia withdrew the small knife she kept holstered to her thigh. “Then fine, darling. You win.” She made a small cut on her palm, letting the blood drip onto the raging fire, watching in horror as it turned a sickening mixture of black, green, and purple, a tower of smoke lifting high into the air and billowing around them, before they were swallowed by it, dragged from everything they knew and loved.

When she awoke the next morning, The White Queen was Bridget Parrish, co-owner of Storybrooke Books with Jonah Anderson, and the wife of Storybrooke’s co-sheriff.

#ouat #swanfire #ouat fanfiction #home is wherever i'm with you

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princessamyrose87 · 1 year

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knuckles spin-off series cast

Vector the Crocodile - Bruce Campbell, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Micheal B. Jordan, Seth rogen

Espio the Chameleon - Daisuke Tsuji, l.j. benet

Charmy Bee - Colleen o'Shaughnessey, Jacob Tremblay

Mighty The Armadillo - Micheal Mando, Micheal B. Jordan, Brady noon

Ray The flying squirrel - Tara Strong, Hudson Meek

Fang The Sniper - John Patrick Lowrie, Hugh Jackman, Karl Urban,

Bean The Dynamite - Aziz Ansari, Steven Ogg

Chief Pachacamac - Danny Trejo Sofía

Tikal the Echidna - Díana Bermudez, Ana de la Reguera, Selene Luna, Sofía Espinosa, Isabela Merced, Salma Hayek, Nisa Gunduz

E-102 Gamma - Corey Burton

Wendy Witchcart - Mia Goth, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Harriet Samson Harris

Battle Kukku XV - Nolan North

Speedy XVI - Maria Bakalova

Dr. Fukurokov - Mark Ivanar

Breezie The Hedgehog - Regina King, Janelle Monáe, Jena Malone, Pollyanna McIntosh

Vanilla The Rabbit - Maggie Robertson

Amy Rose - Kimiko Glenn, Anna kendrick

Big The Cat - Dave Fennoy, Patrick Warburton, Micheal B Jordan, Kevin Chamberlin

Cream the Rabbit - Melissa Hutchison, sabrina glow

Sticks the Badger - Margot Robbie, Paola Lázaro

Gerald Kintobor - Ron Perlman

Maria Kintobor - Mkeena Grace

Commander Abraham Tower - Frank Anthony Grillo

Subject Shadow The Hedgehog (Terios Kintobor) - (Paramount stated they want an A-list celebrity to voice Shadow) Keanu Reeves, Robert Pattinson, Pedro Pascal, Oscar Isaac, Micheal B Jordan

Rouge The Bat - Chloé Hollings, Marion Cotillard, Mélanie Laurent, Camille Cottin, Jordana Lajoie, Scarlett johansson

Tom Wachowski’s father - Bob Odinkirk, Dustin Hoffman, Bill Murray, Micheal Keaton, Kurt Russell, John Goodman

Metal Sonic - Ben Schwartz(robotic filter)

E-123 Omega - Micheal B Jordan, Terry Crews, Jon Bernthal

Hazard The Bio-Lizard (Marzanna Kintobor) - Ivana Miličević

Void TrapDark - Jude Law, Dane DeHaan, Gerald Way, Scott Williams, Freddie Highmore,

Lumina Flowlight - Tabitha St. Germain

Blaze’s Mother - Janina Gavankar, Sakina Jaffrey

Blaze The Cat (Indian/British accent) - Priyanka Chopra, Devika Bhise, Varada Sethu, Simone Ashley, Ulka Simone Mohanty, Natasha Chandel

Marine the Raccoon - Sia, Katie Bergin, Bella Heathcote, Isla Lang Fisher, Rylee Alazraqui, Kendal Rae

Blaze’s Rival: Frost The Axotol(example)- Michelle Yeoh, Fala Chen, Antony Starr

Jet’s Father - Matt Ryan, Iwan Rheon

Jet The Hawk - Tony Hawk, Aaron Paul, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Dante Basco, Ken Jeong, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Jimmy O. Yang

Wave The Swallow - Sarah Margaret Qualley

Storm the Albatross (pacific, Oceania) - Dave Batista, Taylor Wily

Emerl The Gizoid - Augus Imrie, Kendal Rae,

Clutch The Possum - Micheal Rooker, Benjamin Byron Davis, Robert Allen Wiethoff

Tangle The Lemur - Lauren Keke Palmer, Brenda Song

Whisper The Wolf - Stefanie Joosten, Ana de Armas

Mimic The Octopus - Richard Colin Brake

Doctor Starline - Troy Baker, Hugh Grant,

Starline’s Love interest and partner -

Rough and Tumble the Skunks - Will Ferrell and John C. Reily, Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key

Surge The Tenrec - Rachel Bloom, AJ Michalka

Kitsunami The Fennec Fox - Michael Cera, Kyle McCarley

Zavok - Christopher Judge, John Cena, Jon Bernthal

Master Zik - Frank Oz, Randall Duk Kim, Dustin Hoffman

Zeena -Mindy Kaling

Zor - Jaeden Martell, Dane DeHaan, Gerald Way

Zazz - Danny Brown,

Zomom - T.J. Miller

Black Doom -

,Keith David https://youtu.be/9LmOwEfPHUo

, Jackie Earle Haley - https://youtu.be/sF8zxctevXc

, Jon Bernthal - https://youtu.be/sDp4AuNen0Y

, Sean Schemmel -

, Ray Porter - https://youtu.be/aR8p4DIpxxE

,Karl Urban - https://youtu.be/ccF3uvpJ96I

Eclipse The Darkling - Norman Reedus

Callisto The Darkling - Carrie-Anne Moss

Dark Oak - Jeremy Irons

Black Narcissus - Angelina Jolie

Pala Bayleaf - John Leguizamo

Yellow Zelkova - Terry Crews

Red Pine - Pat Casey or Josh Miller

Cosmo The Seedrian - Carol Anne Day, Liliana Mumy

Lyric The Ancient(Owl like Longclaw) - Jackie Earle Haley

Johnny Lightfoot - Taron Egerton

Tekno The Canary - Paula Burrows

Porker Lewis - John Boyega, Daniel Radcliffe

Shorty “Shortfuse” The Cybernik - Cillian Murphy, Barry Sloane

Ebony The Cat - Gratiela Brancusi

Sonia The Hedgehog - Kiernan Shipka, Evan Rachel Wood, Isabella Merced, Jena Malone

Manic The Hedgehog - Joe Keery

Sally Acorn - Zendaya Maree Stoermer Coleman

Antoine D’Coolette - Tomer Capone, Bradley Cooper(hes fluent in French)

Bunnie Rabbot - Alex McKenna

Rotor The “Boomer” Walrus - John Cena

Nicole The Holo-Lynx - Ashly Burch

Lupe The Wolf - Amber Midthunder

Dulcy The Dragon - America Ferrera

Chip - Tom Holland, Freddie Highmore

Professor Dillion Pickle - Ian McKellen

Imperator Ix - Gary Oldman

Shade The Echidna - Lady Gaga

Infinite The Jackal - Kit Harington, Jon Bernthal

Silver The Hedgehog - Steven Yeun

Gold The Tenrec - Simone Ashley

Professor Von Schlemmer - Matthias Schweighöfer

Dr. Negan Robotnik a.k.a Eggman Neo - J.K. Simmons, Jeffery Dean Morgan, Giancarlo Esposito, Bryan Cranston, Pedro Pascal

Dr. Grimer Wormtongue - Ian McShane, Jackie Earle Haley

Chris thorndyke - Graham Verchere

Frost the hobidon - Dakota lotus

Juliet suter - Sydney Scotia

Antia/tania - Cassie glow

Perci - Stephanie lemelin

Preteen bokkun - Brett Gray

Park ranger - Patrick Warburton

Ashe - peyton r. perrine iii

Burst wisp - cherami Leigh

Uncle Charles - David Lengel

Bernadette - Melanie Zanetti

#knuckles the series

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denimbex1986 · 10 months

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'How do you pick the best performance in a film defined by literally dozens of them? Christopher Nolan assembled a murderer’s row of talent for "Oppenheimer," his grand historical drama about the birth of the atomic bomb and the consequences of its power. It contains a veritable smorgasbord of leading icons, character actors, former child star favorites, and faces you forgot you love so much. There’s certainly a case to be made for so many among this ensemble: the steely-eyed determination and rattled conscience of Cillian Murphy in the title role; Robert Downey Jr.’s charisma shattered by the petulance of bureaucratic squabbles; David Krumholtz as the warm friend whose pragmatism punctures his ideals. However, the face you leave the film remembering for days afterward comes from an actor whose character isn’t even given a name.

Alden Ehrenreich plays a Senate aide, a figure who is one of the many government workers standing behind and to the side of the head honchos helping to grease the wheels of power. He has been tasked with guiding Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.) through Senate confirmation hearings on his nomination as Secretary of Commerce to President Eisenhower's cabinet. Ehrenreich is essentially a PR guy, a guide for Strauss and the audience through the tangled web of Cold War-era D.C. and the front-stabbing figures who have turned politics into a battlefield. He is, by design, not that important. Dozens of other nameless aides are waiting around the corner to do this job. Ehrenreich just so happens to be there at the right/wrong time.

Being an audience avatar is often a thankless role in any film, and it’s a trope that Nolan often struggles with. Discussions of process and ideas often weigh down his films and inserting a figure of relatable naivety into this risks disrupting the narrative flow. "Oppenheimer" often gets away with not having one during the glut of the story since it’s so heavily focused on conversations about science, ethics, and consequences. The scenes with Strauss and Ehrenreich are a break from this, an insight into a post-Oppenheimer world and how it has impacted the system that helped to create him in the first place. Ehrenreich is not unaware, nor is he expected to play catch-up with Strauss and company. Rather, he’s the constant reminder that scientists did not do what happened at Los Alamos alone. That he is unnamed and a fictional creation of Nolan (a sharp contrast to a film populated by real historical players) hammers home the disposability of such an aide. Ehrenreich’s job is to blend in, to keep a straight face against the peacocking Strauss. It’s a role that could, too, have disappeared into the background, but Ehrenreich knows that the best scene stealers are the ones who react to the carnage.

Ehrenreich, a character actor with the face of a 1950s leading man, has always excelled in parts where he tempers his natural charisma with a dash of something sharper. In "Hail, Caesar!," he steals the show from one of the Coen Brothers’ starriest casts as Hobie Doyle, the adorably clueless singing cowboy the studio tries to reinvent as a Noel Coward-esque debonair leading man. He’s the safe port of sincerity in a storm of Hollywood cynicism. As the younger brother of the tempestuous Tetro in Francis Ford Coppola's indie drama, he is appealingly innocent yet imbued with the abrasive arrogance that only a dolt of a teenage boy could truly possess. Even in "Solo: A Star Wars Story," the unfairly maligned prequel of the new Disney/Lucasfilm era, Ehrenrich’s Han is less concerned with traditional hero expectations. Audiences seemed furious that he didn’t look or act exactly like Harrison Ford. Still, Ehrenreich understood the giddy enthusiasm of the pre-jaded space cowboy and how the character doesn’t work if he’s always cool (which Ford never was in the original trilogy, something fans often overlook.) The best Ehrenreich performances allow him to dig into humanity's absurdities and petty mundanities, offering either the freaky flipside or a welcome dose of warmth. It’s never as interesting to be cool when you can be weird, dark, or earnest.

The Senate aide is clearly used to being the quiet man in the room, the punching bag against whom others launch their egos. His smile is halfway between charm and smarm, with Ehrenreich excelling with those side glances at Strauss as he enters another rant about his battle of attrition with J. Robert Oppenheimer. Everything the aide says feels loaded with subtext, the ruthless efficiency of a worn-down Washington professional. He’s also used to dealing with political players with more bluster than substance, most evident when he has to appease Strauss without rocking the boat. There’s a deadpan quality to him, as though he’s used to being a babysitter more than an advisor. When Strauss reveals his hand and his selfishness thoroughly exposed, Ehrenreich's subtle reaction most effectively conveys the weight of this moment. It’s not so much that he feels betrayed—he’s clearly too much of a D.C. man to have ever been optimistic—but rather, he’s underwhelmed that years of machinations and supposed patriotism have boiled down to the equivalent of a playground tiff.

And it is Ehrenreich who gets the best line in the film. As Strauss gets ready to face the scrum of ravenous press after the Senate rejects his confirmation, Ehrenreich subtly hides his pleasure, but reveals enough to let Strauss know his feelings on the matter. Strauss is consumed by the possibility that Oppenheimer turned the scientific community against him, including Albert Einstein. He repeatedly returns to a perceived conversation between the two that must have made Strauss Einstein’s enemy. Before opening the door to the wolves of the media, Ehrenreich says, "Maybe they were talking about something more important." Uttered with such casual devastation, the nail in Strauss’ coffin confirms how the fate of the world often means little in the face of one man’s petty grievances. It’s probably for the best that Ehrenreich chose acting as his profession because he would be far too good as a politician.

"Oppenheimer" is, indeed, about far more important things than a politician’s job interview and the concerns of his nameless aide. The Manhattan Project exacerbated humanity’s inevitable self-annihilation, but for rooms full of suits and cigarettes, it was just another day at the office, another tool to be wielded less for destruction than personal bartering. It’s the aide, the one without a name or background or tangible connection to Oppenheimer’s work, who exposes that reality with a crooked smile and killer one-liner. Like a great scene-stealing supporting player, the aide is the one who cuts through the crap to seek the truth. Ehrenreich has long been great at that, and "Oppenheimer" is a welcome new zenith of his career. Here’s hoping there will be many more in the future.'

#Alden Ehrenreich #Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Robert Downey Jr.#Cillian Murphy #David Krumholtz #Lewis Strauss #Hail #Solo: A Star Wars Story

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