shiny box

“Little Witch Academia” Director Wants to Do Another Season, Spinoff

Because of Netflix’s annoying policy of holding onto series so it can release them in bulk, you can’t see it yet, but Trigger’s Little Witch Academia series is airing at this very moment.

The series, which began January 9, is set to air for two seasons and run 25 episodes. But even that’s not enough, according to an interview with director Yoh Yoshinari.

According to excerpts from the interview, Yoshinari says he has so much stuff he wants to do it won’t fit into 25 episodes. He added that it’s hard enough just to fit Akko’s story into 25, and with the current limit, the team doesn’t have enough time to delve deeper into what’s going on with Diana and Amanda.

Finally, Yoshinari mentioned he’d like to do a spinoff series centered around Shiny Chariot, the witch who inspired Akko, and the Night Fall books that appear in the series.

If the Little Witch Academia series succeeds financially, Yoshinari may just get his wish.

Personal headcanon for the Taaco twins in order to justify my over-blingification of their designs:

When you’re poor, one-meal-per-day-poor, at-least-we-have-a-roof-over-our-heads poor, everything that shines is gold to you. You want this uselessly complicated “exotic fruit, emerald flower, ivory soft” soap; you want the perfume in a shiny golden box that leaves glitter on your fingers; you want that too-rich food that swears it contains two dozen different types of carrot and has too much cream; and you absolutely don’t care if it’s tacky or unhealthy or actually cheap. You want what you imagine luxury is, and luxury is to have Everything.

The bigger the better. No time for subtlety. No time for refined shit. You want to swallow everything you can because you never have anything anyway – let me have this, let me have this.

Lup steals her first dress in a thrift shop: it’s covered in thirty different patterns, overly-saturated, obviously made in bad quality fabric, with too much ruffles and poorly painted wooden pearls and plastic sequins and loose golden threads. It’s the ugliest piece of shit, but it’s a lot, it looks like a lot. She wears it until she can’t anymore, and even then, she still keeps it because hey, who knows, maybe someday she’ll make a new dress out of it? You have to keep these things, they might get useful again someday. She says that of all the clothes she owns and never throws anything away. “You never know”, she says. You never know.

Taako loves these super cheap, way too bright to be true jewels you can buy dozens of at the local market: he pierces his ears himself, in dozens of places, just so he can wear more of these pseudo-gold plated hipster earrings with suns and stars and intricate patterns that leave green stuff on his skin and cause the holes to bleed and leak pus two times out of three. He still wears them, and still loves them. Who cares if it’s not an actual diamond? A shard of glass shines just as bright, with colourful tiny patches of light that dance on the palm of his hand whenever he holds it in front of a candle. Plus, it’s not like he could ever get an actual fucking diamond, so.

So.

The trick is not not-to-be-poor, but to look like you’re not.

(The first time Barry buys Lup an actual good dress, something made of silk, maybe, or comfortable velvet, something colourful and shiny but something nice, she straight-up refuses to wear it. It’s too much, too real. How much money did he put in this? Why didn’t he save it in case something happens? She just can’t have that. They argue until Lup can’t even find words to put on the gut-wrenching feeling she has and bites her lips until she tastes blood, incredibly frustrated and angry and afraid, so afraid, of this fucking real nice dress.)

(Kravitz looks nice, pretty boneboy, handsome faced reaper man, and like, Taako knew this, Kravitz’s a man with style – so he eyes his jewellery at the Chug N Squeeze, and sure, he’s not wearing much: two small earrings, a couple of bracelets, a broche with his goddess’ insignia on it. It’s a small round crow with a bright orange eye. It catches the light in a way Taako’s jewels don’t, and suddenly, something nasty turns his blood to ice when he realises it’s because it’s an actual fucking gem – and the rest is too solid and heavy to be gold-plated.

Kravitz is wearing solid gold jewellery, and for the first time in forever, Taako, bright, loud, pseudo-fashionable Taako feels cheap.)

They never argue when people call them too-much, greedy, shallow. They don’t care. All they have are rhinestone bracelets, fake crystal stones, glittery nail polish, colours and cheap glamour: they’re the king and queen of fake it ‘til you make it, so they just. Don’t. Fucking. Care.

‘m kind of bored and feeling down so rb if you want a small (possibly poorly drawn) mspaint doodle of a pokemon in your inbox. people still do these things right? it’ll look something like this:

please write in the tags which pokemon you want or you’ll get a random. specify if you want a shiny, have your submit box open, and only pick one pokemon please! also keep in mind i’m only one person and probably won’t do an awful lot of these, the sooner you reblog the better your chances are

Creepypasta #1099: My Late Nana Loved Telling The Story Of How Her Father Saved Their Village From Monsters

Length: Medium

Nana used to tell me stories when I was little. I stayed with her during the day while my parents were at work, all the way up until I went to kindergarten. I would sit at her kitchen table, happily munching away on a braunschweiger sandwich, kicking my legs that couldn’t touch the floor yet and beg her for more stories, more stories, more stories.

She had so many, but she had one in particular she told more than the others. I don’t know if it was her favorite, or mine, or both. It may have been my favorite because I could tell it was hers.

~~

Many little girls don’t know how lucky they are. Never fall victim to that way of thinking, little sparrow. I knew how lucky I was. I had my Papa.

My Papa was a good man, a strong man. My Papa was a hero, and not just in the way that a lot of daughters think their fathers are. He was a real hero.

You see, little sparrow, before I came to America, I lived in a village. It had once been small but slowly grew to a bustling, thriving place full of life and magic. I can still remember the lovely buildings, the flow of people in the streets, the pretty storefronts with their shiny glass windows. It was a beautiful place and I knew how lucky I was to live there with my Papa because my Papa protected us.

Not just my mother and I, he protected the whole village. He was a hero, as I said. Even though I loved our home, it was not always a safe place.

You see, in our village, there were monsters.

Now I don’t want to scare you, little sparrow, but do not believe the people who tell you monsters aren’t real. Monsters are very real, they are alive and well, and they often hide in plain sight.

That’s what made my Papa a hero. He could spot these monsters, find them lurking beneath their disguises of pink human skin. They seemed good enough, normal enough, but he knew how to identify them and he taught me too.

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A little bit of sugar

(but lots of poison too)

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Noir / Angst / One-shot

Rated T for mentions of death and obsession

Word count: 4.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is well aware that some, well actually most people could find his hobby not exactly common, yet he still considers himself to be a man of tasteful words and higher intellect - someone who managed to understand the true, deepest meaning of beauty itself.

And so he doesn’t really care if his methods of collecting pretty things end up being darker that expected, once you peek under the surface.

Author’s note: Oh my, my first fic for Namjoon, ah I’m a bit nervous, also I need to thank @pantaemonium, @meetevil and @yoongihime for dealing so much with me and my existential crisis about this ;^;

Again, I may or may not have added a decent amount of craziness and creepiness and other yummy things, so please be careful pals!! Hope you’ll like it tho <3


Namjoon likes to collect pretty things.

He doesn’t know when his passion started, maybe it was that time when he was five years and a half and his mother’s pearls looked so shiny and white around the pale curve of her neck – long fingers always skimming the gleaming necklace, stopping their adoring motions just to slap his chubby, longing hands away.

Good children do not touch their mother’s jewels, Namjoon, she used to warn, strict voice and even stricter lips in their tight curl.

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A double request

May we have more of external forces and the fix where it’s Claire comes from the past, into the future and meets Jamie (I believe it’s called Flash Forward)


Fast Forward: Part 4:

Wrapping her fingers around the large front door, Claire pushed the heavy wood forward allowing the afternoon breeze to waft over her through the large gap. She’d been cooped up in the big house at Lallybroch for two weeks whilst her back healed - on Jenny’s *strict* orders. After the eldest Fraser sibling had gone to such great lengths to ensure Claire didn’t require a hospital she’d seen it only fair to obey the instructions she’d been given.

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Love Me Right  [F]

Originally posted by talk-me-down-troye

Warning: Mentions of relative death, fluff

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 2,926

Based on this request :)

The day began just like any other.

The warm sun rays poured in through the small gaps the broken blinds held, something Yoongi was supposed to fix a month before. The loud alarm rang throughout the small apartments bedroom causing the man to grumble against your neck, his sweet aroma seeping into your skin causing your tired eyes to close for a mere five minutes more. It was a routine event after all this time, which is why you knowingly set your alarm for earlier than usual.

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Today is @eroticgropefest bday! For 50 more minutes! This counts! You are probably asleep by now but HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE! !!!
this is a Baz bday fic sorry I got lazy at the end and i was rushed anyway I hope you like it!!!


Simon
“That’s the last one,” I say to myself as I tie the ribbon on the last present, stacking it on top of the rest. I step back and survey the pile of shiny boxes and misshapen lumps of wrapping paper and ribbon.

The oven beeps a loud staccato, bursting me back into action. I slide into the kitchen on slippery sock skates and pull the cake out of the oven. Are cakes supposed to be flat? It should still taste fine.

I hear a key rattling at the door to the flat. So that’s where my key went! I stand still in anticipation as i hear the door swing open.

“Snow….? What is all this?” I hear Baz step forward into the adjacent room. I nonchalantly go to him, setting his groceries down for him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“You’re home early.” I press a firm kiss on him, but he pulls back after only a few seconds.

“Snow-” His eyes ghost over the birthday decorations all over the living room.

“Happy birthday, Baz!” I beam at him and pull back to let him walk around.

“Did- did you do all this yourself?” There are banners over each doorway, a confetti tablecloth on all the tables, a pile of presents, and a wide selection of new movies spread out by the TV.

“Thank you, love.”

Baz
I assumed that by “cake”, Simon meant a cake he had bought. It’s never safe to assume anything.

I put the first movie in, and then he’s setting a large, flat, obviously homemade, chocolate blob that is apparently a cake, in front of me.

“Snow, you know cakes aren’t supposed to look like that.”

“I know, but it should taste fine. It-it has red velvet filling.” My hungry eyes prickle back to the blob like I’m trying to look inside it.

“Red velvet, you say?”
“I know you like red velvet, I hope this is okay. “
I scoop out a giant piece of cake and take a large bite, refraining from attempting to stuff the whole slice in my mouth at once. Snow sucks in a small breath, waiting for my verdict.

“It’s wonderful, love.”

Two movies and too many cuddles to count later, Simon leaves my arms and stands up.
“No, come back!” I mumble to the cold air between my arms.
“But, Baz, it’s present time!” Reluctantly, I let him pull me up and drag me to the kitchen entryway. He pulls me to a small mountain of sloppily wrapped parcels, topped with three cards.
Simon pulls a beanbag over for me, and as I sit down, something thin and green slips over my eyes. It’s a paper crown.
“Simon-” He shoves a card in my face, leaving me no space to continue. The card is from Dev and Niall. The other cards are from Simon and Bunce, who is visiting Micah in America. She signed as Penny, continuing her attempt to get me to call her by her nickname.
Then Simon hands me a misshapen lump wrapped in swirly green paper. Inside is a new pair of jeans; they are black and just my size.
The black, shiny package contains a black shirt, sporting the red words, ‘bite me”. I put it on immediately.
The red chevron box contains a tea maker and a box of Royal English Breakfast Tea, my favorite.
Soon, the pile has dissolved into torn paper and empty boxes.
“Simon, none of the presents had tags on them. How will I know who to thank?” i turn towards him, to see a rosy blush glowing on his cheeks.
“Simon, did you get me all these presents?”
“I’m not done giving you presents yet. You get a kiss for each year of your life since it is your birthday. “
“I only get twenty?” I pout. His brow furrows.
“Well, since its your birthday, I will also grant you a wish. You can ask for more. But you start with 20.” I lean in first.

~FIN~

tsskyx  asked:

So, what's your opinion on that new Collector's Edition Undertale copy from Fangamer? I personally can't take my eyes away from that shiny gold-plated music-box locket °3°

it looks really cool :D I wish I could get it XD

anonymous asked:

Do you have any cute Giles headcanons?

honestly…always

-i’m pretty sure he got lost in an electronics store once when willow took him to the mall. everything looked the same to him and all the aisles had lots of boxes and shiny screens and he was like halfway to panicking when willow came up behind him and very gently led him out of the store. he refuses to go in electronics stores anymore

-buffy, who is a literal five year old, will stand in the electronics stores and make faces at him and say things like “can’t get me in here, giles.” giles pretends to be a Mature and Responsible Adult but he’s glowering because he just doesn’t want to go in there and why does buffy have to make fun of him about it????

-also giles braided buffy’s hair for a few school dances. not just one. a few. she came in with her dress on and her hair down and telling giles that she’d forgotten what she wanted to do with her hair and her nail polish was still drying  and she couldn’t find willow and (insert about ten different made-up excuses here) just so that giles would agree to braid her hair. buffy loves feeling like she’s being Parented by giles

-giles lowkey loves being buffy’s father figure, even though neither of them have expressly said it. there was this one time (i’ll say mid s2) they both went out to dinner for some reason and the waitress was like “oh, your daughter looks so much like you!” and buffy gave giles this sideways look because she was expecting him to correct the waitress, but giles just smiled and looked down and said “thank you” very softly

-giles 100% took buffy ice skating. it was cold and he wore actual earmuffs into the rink and buffy refused to be seen with him (until he kept on falling on his face on the skates, at which point she reluctantly helped guide him around the ice)

-these are turning very fast into giles-and-buffy father-daughter headcanons so i’ll throw in something else: giles made special flash cards for willow one time and helped her study for various tests that she didn’t really need help for just so that she could feel valued and appreciated. she picked up on this super fast and gave him a big hug when she left. giles was blushing for hours

Daddy's Gun

She could feel the cold barrel of the gun as it pressed underneath her chin. It was a pretty weapon, a large purple revolver with solid gold embellishments and a crowned skull emblazoned on the side. Red rubies winked in the eye sockets, glimmering as Dr. Harleen Quinzel felt the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“M-M-Mr. J…” she stammered.

“Shut up,” he growled.

“P-P-Please… please don’t kill me.”

“I said shut… the fuck… up.” The metal jammed harder into head, rapping against the bone of her jaw.

Oh, the irony was rich. She was the one that had brought him the revolver, after he’d asked her for a machine gun during their last session and she’d told him she had no way to get it. He’d dictated a phone number to her, asking her to repeat it back to him three times to ensure she would remember it. He told her to call the number and say the magic words, the rest would be handled.

She’d frowned.

“The magic words?”

“Abracadabra!” He’d said with a theatrical flourish, then threw back his head and cackled with delight at the joke.

She’d called the number and spoken the magic words - abracadabra - into the phone when a male voice picked up, only to be greeted by a swift ‘click’ in her ear.

“Some joke,” she’d grumbled.

The next day, the gun arrived on her doorstep.

It was packaged in a shiny silver box with a red foil bow, looking like nothing so much as a fancy Christmas present. A simple golden tag read, ‘For J.’

She’d brought it into her apartment quickly, unwrapping it in the front hallway to find the magnificent purple gun winking up at her. It had felt warm when she lifted it, feeling the satisfying weight of it in her hands.

She had done it. She had actually done it.

And sneaking it into Arkham hadn’t even been hard. She wore metal tipped stilettos in that day, and all the silver jewelry she owned. Tucking the gun between her legs before she got out of her car, she held her breath as she passed through the metal detector and it went off. Giving the security guard a sheepish smile, she kicked her toes against the ground, throwing up sparks, and then held out her arms, which were covered in bracelets and rings. After taking an additional look at her layered necklaces and dangling earrings, he distractedly waved her through and went back to reading his newspaper.

Now she was pressed up against the wall in the solitary room where they had their sessions, the muzzle of the semi automatic jammed into her throat.

His straightjacket was a puddle of white fabric on the floor; she’d freed him from it the moment the door closed behind her, as she had done a hundred times before. The first time they kissed over the table, he’d had it on, which thrilled her, the sense of power, of control she had over him; she had a feeling he’d sensed that, because the next session he demanded she release him after the guards left. And how could she say no to him? She would do anything for him.

But today, after she pulled the gun out, he’d pounced, taking it from her outstretched hand and pinning her against the wall in one smooth motion. Once they’d begun… SEEING each other, she’d demanded there be no cameras or recording devices in the room, going straight to the board of the asylum and claiming it violated doctor-patient confidentiality. They’d reluctantly agreed as long as she wore a panic button which, naturally, she’d stopped carrying months ago. It was just her and the Joker for the next 90 minutes.

Would she be dead within the next five?

“Please, I did everything you asked me to,” she whispered.

“You did EVERYTHING I asked you to, sweet little Harleen.” He eased up on the pressure, moving the gun from side to side, tracing her pulse as it jumped around her throat. “And Daddy is very proud of you. I knew you had it in you.”

“So, what are you…”

“You question me?” He snapped, cutting her off. The gun pushed into her chin again.

She tried shaking her head, but couldn’t move.

“No, Mr. J.”

“Tell me how you got it in here.”

“I wore jewelry, so when the detector beeped-”

“Not that!” He bristled and she pushed back into the wall as far as she could go, trying to ease away from the revolver. His grip tightened and the gun followed her. “WHERE did you hide it?”

“Oh.” Despite herself, Harleen blushed. “I… I…”

“Yes?” He grinned, the metal grill shining in the dim fluorescent light overhead. Just looking at his silver smile made her feel dizzy with attraction, despite his orange Arkham jumpsuit and the fact that he was holding a gun to her head.

Or maybe because of it.

The longer he held it, the less afraid she felt; if he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet, surely he wasn’t going to kill her? The fear began to drain out of her, replaced by a peculiar tingling in the pit of her stomach.

“I- I hid it in between my legs,” she said in a quiet voice.

He clucked his tongue like a hen. “What a naughty little girl you are, Harleen.” He nuzzled the gun against her chin as gently as a lover buries their face in the crook of their beloveds neck. With his free hand, he trailed his large, square palm through her hair and down her torso, until he reached the hem of her tight pencil skirt.

“Where?”

Her eyes widened. Swallowing, she moved her smaller hands down to meet his. Grasping his one hand in between both of hers, she gently pushed it under her skirt, to where the gun holster lay smooth against her inner left thigh.

“There.”

It was a simple loop of leather that she had picked up in a pawn shop in one of the seedier parts of Gotham. A pouch could be clipped onto the circle, and the gun fitted snugly inside.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the clerk had remarked as she paid for it in cash. He’d told her how to work it - “Ya just belt it on ya leg and put the piece in” - then sent her on her way. It rode high up her leg, sitting just under her lace underwear, and she could feel the Joker’s long, white fingers as they skimmed over her skin.

“Oh, God, you’re so GOOD,” he breathed, rubbing his hand over the leather around her leg. Without loosening his grip on the gun, he leaned in, hungrily covering her mouth with his.

The tingling sensation in her stomach intensified, spreading throughout her entire body. Whenever he kissed her, it felt like the world stopped. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except his kisses. And in a way, the gun made it even better, the complete and utter control he had over her in that moment, and the complete and utter trust she had, the faith she had that he wouldn’t shoot her.

He wouldn’t shoot her. She knew in her gut, in her BONES, that he wouldn’t shoot her.

No longer the slightest bit afraid, she threw herself into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. The tiniest misstep by either of them and she’d certainly be dead, heightening the exhilarating pleasure of the moment. He kept his rock solid grip on the gun, his other hand moving higher and higher between her legs. She gasped as he touched her thin panties then curled his fingers into the fabric, ripping them. She could feel moisture running down her legs as he stroked her, and her body quivered with pleasure.

“Move your hands,” he moaned into her mouth. Instinctively, she knew what he wanted her to do. Drawing back and staring him in the eyes, she placed both of her hands around the gun at her chin. Perfect trust. Total love. Her small, warm hands wrapped around his large, cold one, with his finger on the trigger.

He growled and bit her cheek. Working the fingers of his other hand faster and faster, he brought her to a pulsating climax. She pressed her lips together to avoid crying out; she didn’t want the guards to hear and investigate. Instead, she turned completely inward, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she crested on wave after wave of sensation.

She wanted to moan in agony when she felt the barrel of the gun leave her throat. Her hands fell, limp by her sides, as he took the weapon away.

“No…” Before she could stop herself, the word slipped out of her mouth. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in surprise. Lips red as a cherry, hair glowing emerald green in the light, he had an otherworldly beauty. She just wanted him to POSSESS her. It was frightening in its ferocity.

“So you like Daddy’s gun?” He asked in a low voice. It was almost like he couldn’t believe it; like he’d been expecting to scare her, and he was the one that ended up scared by her reaction.

“Y-Yes.” Her voice shook. She had liked it. She could still feel the ghostly imprint of it pressed under her chin.

He pressed the cold metal against her chest, the side of it, this time. She could feel it, heavy against her sternum, before it slid lower, across her stomach, and lower still.

“How much do you like it?”

Harleen knew what he was asking her, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. They had already done things in this room, but this- this was unspeakable.

His free hand drifted up and curled tightly in her hair, jerking her head backward.

“I asked you a question, little girl.”

“I love it, Daddy,” she admitted truthfully, cheeks burning. His own eyes rolled up into the back of his head in pleasure at her words.

Slowly, carefully, he nudged the gun into the waistband of her skirt.

“Do you belong to me?”

She looked at him with tears of love in her eyes. “I do.”

The metal was cold as it nosed its way between her legs, and her body tensed against the wave of pleasure she felt. He was USING her. Depraving her. Claiming her in a way she never had been before.

But he was gentle as he worked the gun in and out of her body. He kept one hand in her hair, holding her up against the wall as her knees buckled and shook. He kissed her face, her nose, her eyes, murmuring as his lips passed, whisper light, over her skin. She moaned softly and he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

“You have to be quiet, baby.”

She sucked his tongue like a pacifier to keep from wailing. The pleasure was so keen it felt like a sharpened knife pricking her all over her body. She trembled against the brilliant heat rising inside of her, swelling and bright as she suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces. She was clinging to him, sobbing and grinding her hips and working her body against the gun and it felt so good, so so so GOOD, better than anything else had ever felt before, and he was laughing, quietly chuckling into her ear, and whispering about how she was SUCH a good little girl, such a mad little girl, and she thought that if this was madness then she wanted it.

She wanted it.

He held her as she came back to her senses, still pinned up against the wall in the solitary room. The gun was nestled between her thighs, and she swore she could feel it pulsating wetly.

“No one has ever loved my gun as much as you do,” he said, and she glowed with pride. “We’ll have to get you one of your own, won’t we? Can’t have you running off with mine to have FUN.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She flushed at the desire that rose within her again at his words.

The door suddenly swung open.

“Times up, Dr. Quinzel- oh shit.”

list of s3 questions...

Since the filming on Blindspot’s season 3 officially starts today - 6 July 2017 - I thought I’d do this post of a list of questions and stuff we’re looking forward to be answered/addressed this season (hopefully by the premiere LOL) and yes, I always have lists of questions.
So let me start with character questions:

1. Reade

  • Is Reade still at the NYO? Or has he transferred to Quantico? 
  • Is he still seeing someone to deal with his issues?
  • Is he seeing someone? Has he patched things up with Sarah?
  • Did Freddie ever resurface?

2. Tasha

  • Is Tasha still at the NYO? Or has she taken Keaton up on his offer and joined the CIA?
  • Does she still have being single down to a science or is she seeing someone?
  • How is her grandma? Will we ever meet her? I love Tasha’s grandma…

3. Patterson

  • Is Patty still at the FBI? Or has she left? Did get too much and she is now teaching at some prestigious university while designing puzzles on the side for fun?
  • Ashley’s hair is beautifully long at the moment, can Patty have that beautiful long hair?
  • Is her string of bad luck in romance over? IS PATTY HAPPY?!?!?! SHE BETTER BE HAPPY.

4. Roman

  • My sweet troubled little child, how are you? Have they left you long enough to find some peace of mind?
  • Has Roman been behaving?
  • Has he found forgiveness in his heart for Jane?
  • Has he been watching over her?
  • Has he taken up yoga?
  • Please don’t shave your beard.

5. Kurt
::uncontrollable sobbing:: we’ll have to get back to Kurt

6. Jane
::shaking and crying:: ok, I guess we will have to get back to her too

7. General Q’s

  • With Patty missing, who’s gonna help Jeller from the lab? We know Stuart (the poor lab tech Patty lost her shit on) is coming back, but let’s be real, he can’t do what Patty can do… what I’m saying is, this is a golden opportunity to bring someone like Ana Montes or say… Rich Dotcom back… right?
  • Who took Patty, Reade and Tasha? And why? What do they need from them?
  • What’s with the shiny box with Jane’s name on it? And what is with the other case that Jane has with her in Venice?
  • WHAT IS GOING ON IN VENICE?
  • Whatever happened to Shepherd? How much info did they get out of her? Do they now know more about Jane and Roman and where they come from and what they went through?
  • Did they ever take down the rest of Sandstorm and everyone who was working with Shepherd?
  • Did we ever find out if Shepherd knew about Bill killing Taylor?
  • Was Markos working with Cade? Or loyal to Shepherd?? (and no, I will never get over this one)
  • Is Rich still in prison or is he out?
  • Are Sarah and Sawyer still conveniently on the other side of the world?
  • WHO IS THIS YEAR’S VILLAIN???
  • What’s with Jane recreating the scene from the pilot? naked Jane in a duffel bag? Will hubby be there? shut up yasmine

5 & 6 (again). Kurt & Jane

  • Why did Jane leave?
  • How long has she been gone?
  • Who gave her these brand new shiny tats?
  • Did she ever become a full fledged agent? Or did she open a nice artisanal tea shop in Williamsburg?
  • Has Jane recovered more memories?
  • How long did Jane and Kurt date?
  • When did they get married? Was it a small wedding? a big wedding? was RICH INVITED?!?!
  • Is Kurt involved in his daughter’s life? How often does he go to Colorado? Did he take Jane’s advice and move to Colorado? Is he the perfect loving adorable daddy to his baby girls? (of course he is)
  • Is Jane in the little girl’s life?
  • HOW HAPPY AND IN LOVE WERE JELLER BEFORE JANE LEFT? No don’t tell me I am not ready.
  • Did Kurt quit his job to go look for his wife? Is he AWOL?
  • How did he handle her leaving? (not well of course not well - he is still not over Taylor - my poor bb)
  • No, but why did Jane really leave? What deep dark secrets are there?
  • WILL WE MAKE THE BEST USE OF THE BEAUTIFUL CITY OF VENICE
  • HOW LONG BEFORE JELLER RECONCILE?
  • I WANT ALL THE FUCKING JELLER
  • DO NO MAKE
  • THEM HAVE TO SUFFER
  • THROUGH UNNECESSARY
  • SEPARATION AND CONTRIVED ANGST
  • FOR TOO LONG
  • BECAUSE JELLER ARE
  • BETTER WHEN
  • THEY
  • ARE
  • TOGETHER
  • AND
  • SO
  • IS
  • THE
  • SHOW


Ok, I’m sure I’ve got more, but that’s all I can think of for now. What are questions that you guys have?