#((hopefully without your local fans being difficult about it))

[banqanas]

[BATTLE OF TOKYO 2024] PROFILE SHEET ⑭

Featuring: Kano Yoshiyuki, Momoda Haima, Nanba Sora

Original Tweet & Schedule

English translations by Nhnix512: BBZ, Lil

[pumpkinpaix]

mdzs fandom, diaspora, and cultural exchange

Hey everyone. This post contains a statement that’s been posted to my twitter, but was a collaborative effort between several diaspora fans over the last few weeks. Some of the specifics are part of a twitter-localized discourse, but the general sentiments and issues raised are applicable across the board, including here on tumblr.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably seen a few of my posts about this fandom, cultural exchange, and diasporic identity. For example, here, here, and here. This statement more directly criticizes some of the general issues I and others have raised in the past, and also hopefully provides a little more insight into where those issues come from. I would be happy if people took the time to read and reblog this, as the thought that went into it is not trivial, and neither is the subject matter. Thank you.

Introduction

Hello. I'm a member of a Chinese diaspora discord server - I volunteered to try and compile a thread of some thoughts regarding our place and roles in the fandom expressed in some of our recent discussions. This was primarily drafted by me and reviewed/edited by others with the hopes that we can share a cohesive statement on our honest feelings instead of repeatedly sharing multiple, fragmented versions of similar threads in isolation.

This was compiled by one group of diaspora and cannot be taken to represent diaspora as a whole, but we hope that our input can be considered with compassion and understanding of such.

For context, we are referencing two connected instances: the conflict described in these two threads (here and here), and when @/jelenedra tweeted about giving Jewish practices to the Lans. Regarding the latter, we felt that it tread into the territory of cultural erasure, and that it came from a person who had already disrespected diaspora’s work and input.

Context

The Lans have their own religious and cultural practices, rooted both in the cultural history of China and the genre of xianxia. Superimposing a different religious practice onto the Lans amidst other researched, canonical or culturally accurate details felt as if something important of ours was being overwritten for another’s personal satisfaction. Because canon is so intrinsically tied to real cultural, historical, and religious practices, replacing those practices in a canon setting fic feels like erasure. While MDZS is a fantasy novel, the religious practices contained therein are not. This was uncomfortable for many of us, and we wanted to point it out and have it resolved amicably. We were hoping for a discussion or exchange as there are many parallels and points of relation between Chinese and Jewish cultures, but that did not turn out quite as expected.

What happened next felt like a long game of outrage telephone that resulted in a confusion of issues that deflected responsibility, distracted from the origin of the conflict, and swept our concern under the rug.

Specifically, we are concerned about how these two incidents are part of what we feel is a repeated, widespread pattern of the devaluing of Chinese fans’ work and concerns within this fandom. This recent round of discourse is just one of many instances where we have found ourselves in a position of feeling spoken over within a space that is nominally ours. Regardless of what the telephone game was actually about, the way it played out revealed something about how issues are prioritized.

Background

MDZS is one of the first and largest franchises of cmedia that has become popular and easily accessible outside of China. Moreover, it’s a piece of queer Chinese media that is easily accessible to those of us overseas. For many non-Chinese fans, this is the first piece of cmedia they have connected with, and it’s serving as their introduction to a culture previously opaque to them. What perhaps is less obvious is that for many Chinese diaspora fans, this is also the first piece of cmedia THEY have connected with, found community with, seen themselves in.

Many, many of us have a fraught relationship with our heritage, our language—we often suffer from a sense of alienation, both from our families and from our surrounding peers. For our families, our command of the language and culture is often considered superficial, clunky, childish. Often, connecting with our culture is framed as a mandatory academic duty, and such an approach often fosters resentment towards our own heritage. For our non-Chinese peers, our culture is seen as exotic and strange and other, something shiny and interesting to observe, while we, trapped in the middle, find ourselves uprooted and adrift.

MDZS holds an incredibly important place in many diaspora’s hearts. Speaking for myself, this is literally the first time in my life I have felt motivated and excited about my own native tongue. It's the first time I have felt genuine hope that I might one day be able to speak and read it without fear and self-doubt. It is also the first time that so many people have expressed interest in learning from me, in hearing my thoughts and opinions about my culture.

This past year and a half in fandom has been an incredible experience. I know that I am not alone in this. So many diaspora I have spoken to just in the last week have expressed similar sentiments about the place MDZS holds in their lives. It is a precious thing to us, both because we love the story itself, and because it represents a lifeline to a heritage that’s never felt fully ours to grasp.

It’s wonderful to feel like we are able to welcome our friends into our home and show them all these things that have been so formative to our identities, and to be received with such enthusiasm and interest. Introducing this to non-Chinese friends and fans has also been an opportunity to bridge gaps and be humanized in a way that has been especially important in a year where yellow peril fear mongering has been at an all-time high.  

History

However, MDZS’ rise in popularity among non-Chinese audiences has also come with certain difficulties. It is natural to want to take a story you love and make it your own: that’s what transformative fandom is all about. It is also natural that misunderstandings and unintentional missteps might happen when you aren’t familiar with the ins and outs of the culture and political history of the story in question. This is understandable and forgivable—perfection is impossible, even for ourselves.

We hope for consideration and respect when we give our knowledge freely and when we raise the issue of our own discomfort with certain statements or actions regarding our culture. Please remember that what is an isolated incident to you might be a pattern of growing microaggressions to us. In non-Asian spaces, Asian diaspora are often lumped together under one umbrella. In the west, a lot of Chinese diaspora attach themselves to Korean and Japanese media in order to feel some semblance of connection to a media which approximates our cultures because there are cultural similarities. This is the first time we've collectively found community around something that is actually ours, so the specificities matter.

There is a bitterness about being Asian diaspora and a misery in having to put up a united front about racial issues. Enmity towards one group becomes a danger to all of us, all while our own conflicted histories with one another continue to pass trauma down through the generations. Many of us don’t even watch anime in front of our grandparents because of that lingering cultural antipathy. When the distinctions between our cultures are muddled, it feels once again like that very fraught history is flattened and forgotten.

Without the lived experience of it, it’s hard to understand how pervasive the contradictory web of anti-Asian and, more specifically, anti-Chinese racial aggressions are and how insidious its effects are. The conflation of China the political entity (as perceived and presented by the US and Europe) with its people, culture, and diaspora results in an exhausting litany of criticism levied like a bludgeon, often by people who don’t understand the complicated nature of a situation against those of us who do.

There is often a frankly stunning lack of self-awareness re: cultural biases and blind spots when it comes to discussions of MDZS, particularly moral ones. There are countless righteous claims and hot takes on certain aspects of the story, its author, and the characters that are so clearly rooted in a Euroamerican political and moral framework that does not reflect Chinese cultural realities and experiences. Some of these takes have become so widespread they are essentially accepted as fanon.

This is a pattern of behavior within the fandom. It is not limited to any specific group, nor does it even exclude ourselves—we are, after all, not a monolith, and we should not be placed on pedestals to have our differing opinions weaponized against one another in fandom squabbles. We are not flawless in our own understandings and approaches, and we would appreciate it if others would remember this before using any of us as ultimate authorities to settle a personal score.

It is difficult not to be disheartened when enthusiastic interest crosses the line into entitled demand and when transformative work crosses into erasure, especially when the reactions to our raised concerns have so frequently been dismissive and hostile. The overwhelming cultural and emotional labor we bring to the table is often taken advantage of and then criticized in bad faith. We are bombarded with racist aggressions, micro and macro, and then met with ridicule and annoyance when we push back. Worse, we sometimes face accusations of hostility that force us to apologize, back down, and let the matter go.

When we bring up our issues, it usually seems to come with the expectation that there are other issues that should be addressed before we can address ours. It feels like it’s never really the time to talk about Asian issues.

On the internet and in fandom spaces, Western-coded media, politics and perspectives are assumed to be general knowledge and experience that everyone knows and has. It feels like a double standard that we are expected to know the ins and outs of western politics and to engage on these terms, but most non-Chinese have not even the slightest grasp of the sort of politics that are at play within our communities. We end up feeling used for our specialized knowledge and cultural background and then dismissed when our opinions and problems are inconvenient.

As the culture represented in MDZS is not a culture that most non-Chinese fans are familiar with, we’d like to remind you that you do not get to decide which parts of it are or are not important. While sharing this space with Chinese diaspora who have a close connection to the work and the painful history that goes along with being diaspora, we ask that you be mindful of listening to our concerns.

Cultural erasure is tied to a lot of intense historical and generational trauma for us that maybe isn't immediately evident: the horrors of the Pacific theatre, the far-reaching consequences of colonization, racial tensions both among ourselves and with non-Chinese etc. These are not minor or simple things, and when we talk about our issues within fandom, this is often what underlies them. This is one of the first and only places many of us have been able to find community to discuss our unique issues without feeling as if we’re speaking out of turn.

With the HK protests, COVID, the anti-Chinese platforms of the US election etc., anti-Chinese sentiment has been at the forefront of the global news cycle for some time now, and it is with complete sincerity that we emphasize once again how important MDZS fandom has been as a haven for humanizing and valuing Chinese people through cultural exchange.

Experiencing racial aggression within that space stings, not just because it’s a space we love, but because it feels like we’ve been swimming in rapidly rising racial aggression for over a year at this point.

Feelings

This is a difficult topic to broach at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Many of us have a wariness of rocking the boat instilled in us from our upbringings, and it is not uncommon for us to feel like we should be grateful that people want to engage with something of ours at all. When we do decide to speak up, we’ve learned that there is a not insignificant chance that we’ll be turned on and trampled over because what we’ve said is inconvenient or uncomfortable. When it is already so difficult to speak up, we end up second-guessing and gaslighting ourselves into wondering whether there really was a problem at all.

We’d like to be able to share what we know about our culture and have our knowledge and experience be taken seriously and treated with courtesy. This is a beautiful, rich world built with the history of our ancestors, one that we too are trying to connect with. When we find it in ourselves to speak up about it, we would appreciate being met with consideration instead of hostility.

We don't have the luxury of stepping away from our culture when we get tired of it. We don't get to put it down and walk away when it’s difficult. But if you're not Chinese or Chinese diaspora, you get to put this book down—we'd like to kindly request that you put it down gently because of how much it matters to all of us in this fandom, regardless of heritage.

What we are asking for is reflection and thoughtfulness as we continue to engage with this work and with one another, especially with regards to how Chinese issues are positioned. When we raise issues of our own discomfort, please take a moment to reflect before reacting defensively or trying to shut us down for spoiling the fun—don’t deprioritize our concerns, especially in a fandom for a piece of Chinese media. We promise most of us are not trying to start shit for the sake of a fight. Most of the time, all we want is acknowledgement and a genuine attempt at understanding.

Our hope with this statement is to encourage more openness and understanding between diaspora and non-Chinese fans while we navigate this place that we’re sharing. Please remember that for many of us, MDZS is far more intense than a typical fandom experience. Remember that the knowledge we have and research we do is freely and happily given, and that it costs us both materially and emotionally. Please don’t take that for granted. Remember too that sometimes the reason for our discomfort may not be immediately evident to you: what seems culturally neutral and harmless might touch upon specific loaded issues for us. We ask for patience, and we ask for sincerity as we try to communicate with one another.

We are writing this because there’s a collective sense of imposed silence—that every time the newest round of discourse crops up, we often feel as if we’re walking away having created no meaningful change, and nursing new wounds that we’ll never get to address. But without speaking up about it, this is a cycle that will keep repeating.

This is not meant to shame or guilt the fandom into throwing themselves at our feet, either to thank us or beg for forgiveness—far from that. We’re just your friends and your fellow fans. We are happy to have you here, and we’re happy to create and share and play together. We just ask to be respected and heard.

Thank you. Thank you for listening. Several of us will be stepping back from twitter for a while. We’ll see you when we get back. ❤️

* A final addendum: here are two articles with solid practical advice on writing stories regarding a culture other than your own.

Cultural Appropriation for the Worried Writer: Some Practical Advice

Cultural Appropriation: Some More Practical Advice

The thread on twitter is linked in the source of this post. Thanks everyone.

[inknopewetrust]

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless. 

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None! 

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom​ ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film. 

“May-” 

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!” 

“May!” 

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe. 

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”  

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her. 

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part. 

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle. 

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force. 

“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!” 

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time. 

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store. 

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch. 

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to. 

“Get back! Get back!” 

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know. 

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said. 

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different. 

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse. 

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man? 

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero. 

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window. 

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you. 

“You scare too easy.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-” 

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.” 

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?” 

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.” 

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?” 

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window. 

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother. 

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them. 

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment. 

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet. 

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality. 

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake. 

“Mysterio?” 

“What?” 

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.” 

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.” 

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination. 

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.” 

“Likewise.” 

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again. 

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already. 

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent. 

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him. 

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree. 

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong. 

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath. 

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin. 

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you. 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say. 

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle. 

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.” 

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose. 

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.” 

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking. 

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?” 

“I suppose so, yes.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head. 

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?” 

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.” 

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light. 

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?” 

“My little brother.” 

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.” 

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure. 

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder. 

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.” 

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.” 

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier. 

“May our paths cross again.” 

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed. 

“Hopefully under better circumstances.” 

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago. 

[creativeashproductions]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (4)

Oh God, there’s another one.

The thought came unbidden to Toshinori’s mind, and it engulfed him in the closest thing to pure dread he had felt in years. It had taken two centuries, the sacrifice of seven One For All users, and two of his own major organs to take down a single All For One wielder, and now a brand new one had somehow sprouted right in front of him.

Now. Now that he had finally decided to tackle the hurdle of entrusting a relatively stable Japan to a successor, now that he was weaker and less capable than ever of defending it from a new threat. Now that the deadline of Nighteye’s prophecy was drawing closer and closer. His own gruesome death on the battlefield, and the sudden reappearance of All For One’s quirk. The unavoidable connection between the two facts almost robbed him of his breath.

Toshinori couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy’s hand. It looked diminutive in comparison to his own, and completely inoffensive. It had the soft, unblemished appearance that suited someone who had never hit anything bigger than a fly, whereas the hero’s skin had long since been roughened by calluses, and his joints slightly thwarted by the occasional fracture. Yet, that single, unassuming dimple in the middle of its palm made it more potentially destructive than a hundred of Smashes combined.

A sort of choked whimper made Toshinori finally raise his gaze. He realized he had stopped trying to school his expression only when he saw his own strung-out stupor mirrored in Midoriya’s features. 

“I-I… Sorry, I r-really have t-to…” The boy took a step back, his hand slipping from the man’s grasp, then he suddenly turned on his heels and motioned to sprint away.

“Hey, hey!” Toshinori reached forward, grabbing Midoriya’s wrist by sheer reflex. He had already wasted enough time and energy chasing slimy villains and rash teenagers all over the town that day, thank you very much. “Where are you going?”

Midoriya froze on the spot, as if shocked by an electric current. His arm was rigid in Toshinori’s grasp, pulling away from it but without any real conviction. His head turned slowly towards the hero but not fully, letting him see only half of the boy’s face. The unmistakable terror etched in those wide eyes made something constrict in Toshinori’s chest.

“I-I’m… I’m so sorry…” The boy’s voice was down a trembling, barely audible whisper.“I didn’t mean to d-do that… I’ve never… I won’t do it again, I swear, j-just…” 

Midoriya’s free hand hovered over the hero’s, maybe having half a mind of prying it open, but he didn’t even dare to touch it. Toshinori let go of him immediately. The kid wasn’t expecting it, judging by his flabbergasted expression, and all he did with his regained freedom was backing away from him with a couple of uncertain steps, bumping into a nearby electric pole with his backpack and just standing there, pretty much like a cornered mouse cowering before a lion.

The sight jolted Toshinori back to reality with brutal efficiency. God, what was wrong with him today? He was handling this abysmally. That was no two-hundred-year-old manipulative slaughterer, that was a child. A child rapidly working himself into a panic, if his onsetting tremors were of any indication. Ironically, the realization grounded Toshinori even more. Frightened victims and distraught relatives were a daily occurrence in his line of work, and his professional composure slipped back in place almost subconsciously.

“You don’t need to apologize. Quite the opposite. You saved everyone. The hostage, the bystanders… even me. I’m not sure I’d have had the energy to keep up appearances after another smash.” He put up his hands and showed his palms with slow movements, keeping his voice low and level. “You did nothing wrong back there.”

Midoriya slowly slumped down the pole, his limbs huddled in a distressed heap. He blinked quickly as his eyes shied away from Toshinori’s, hands bunching up the fabric of his trousers nervously. “...I-I can give it back. The quirk. I want to give it back to its owner.”

“That can be easily arranged.” Something about the whole situation was nagging at Toshinori, but he pushed that feeling aside for the moment. The boy wasn’t holding himself in any way that hinted at specific injuries, but fear could be one hell of an anesthetic. He gazed up and down the road, finding it completely deserted. He still felt slightly abuzz with the adrenaline rush caused by his second encounter with the sludge villain and the recent revelation of Midoriya’s quirk. He gauged that he could probably (possibly, maybe, hopefully) abuse One For All for another twenty seconds or so if need be, just the time to scoop up the boy in his arms and power run back to the ambulances at the site of the accident. That was likely to cause even more distress to the poor kid though, so he’d rather hold off on it unless clearly necessary. “Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” The boy wiggled the backpack off his shoulders and rummaged through it shakily, a few tears rolling down his cheeks and his hiccups becoming harder to contain. “I’m fine…”

“Hey, kid. Look at me. Deep breaths.” Toshinori finally ventured a step and a half towards Midoriya, squatting at a reasonable distance to his side instead of right in front of him, to make sure he wouldn’t feel too crowded. Toshinori offered him a couple of tissues (always plentiful in his pockets) while the boy tried to regain a semblance of calm. “It’s all right. I am here.”

That got the boy’s attention. The catchphrase had slipped out of him automatically, without his trademark panache or blinding smile or overflowing optimism, but Midoriya looked at him like he’d been thrown a lifeline nonetheless. The dam broke and big, shiny tears erupted from his eyes as he accepted the tissues and buried his sobs in them. They remained like that for a while, the kid quietly working through his sniffles while Toshinori sat cross-legged on the dusty asphalt, reminding him to take his time whenever he got a little fidgety.

“Sorry if I spooked you.“ Toshinori eventually offered with a small smile, after Midoriya had finally settled down. “I’m a little out of it myself, today. Not the most auspicious first day in my new neighborhood, but what can you do?”

“Uh? Do you mean you’re moving here?” Midoriya asked while he accepted the fourth tissue and wiped away the remaining dampness from his face.

“Mh-hm.” After the debacle on the rooftop, this didn’t feel like too much of a sensitive bit of information to share. Besides, the kid was a fan, so maybe throwing him a bone would help him relax a little more.

“Why? Isn’t it inconvenient for you? I thought you lived in a penthouse above Might Tower, in Tokyo’s Minato Ward, Roppongi 6-12-”

...Ah, he was that kind of fan. Obviously. “Indeed, but I’ve decided to move to… broaden my professional horizons, so to speak.”

“Oh! Are you planning to open a branch of your agency here? Or are you joining some local long-term operation?“ That spark of morbid curiosity in the boy’s eyes made Toshinori regret bringing up the topic in two seconds flat.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can say on the matter, everything’s still under tight wraps. You’ll hear all about it from the news, eventually.” He stood up and patted some dirt off his hands and pants. “Do you live far from here? I’ll walk you home if you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, uh…” The boy gaped at him in surprise. “Thank you, but there’s no need for you to go out of your way! I’m fine, really!”

“Think nothing of it.” Toshinori hooked three fingers under the strap of the boy’s backpack and hauled it over his own shoulder. It hit his back with unexpected oomph. What did kids even put in those things, weren’t textbooks all digital these days? “Clearly this isn’t your lucky day either. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that you reached your house safely without being run over by a truck or abducted by aliens.”

The joke got a half-smile out of Midoriya, at long last. He held out his hand to the boy to help him back on his feet. The obvious hesitation and near disbelief he couldn’t hide before gingerly accepting the proffered hand gave Toshinori another small wave of unease. There was definitely something strange about all this, aside from the obvious. He gestured for the kid to lead the way, and they set off towards their new destination.

Toshinori granted him a few minutes of silence before breaching the pivotal subject. “So… you have quite the interesting quirk.”

“...Mh.” Midoriya visibly stiffened. So it had been the quirk talk to give him cold feet, rather than a generic reaction to the day’s stress...

“Why didn’t you use it against the villain the first time he attacked you?” Toshinori asked, opting for a more roundabout approach.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I really should have. You wouldn’t have had to waste your power if I’d-”

“Forget about me! Why didn’t you use it to defend yourself? Did you panic?”

“Uh, well, not too much.” The kid shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his gaze to the ground, his voice lowering to a droning mutter. “I can take quirks, but I don’t automatically learn how to use them. The villain’s quirk looked like it may be difficult to handle. What if I couldn’t maintain a solid form and just turned myself into a puddle of goo? What if some parts of my slime got detached from the main body during the scuffle, and I found myself missing chunks of flesh upon turning back human? What if the sludge was only an outer layer over my body, and without fine control I ended up drowning in it? Stuff like that… I should have just taken the villain’s quirk without activating it, but I was afraid that he’d get even angrier and he’d just beat me up anyway. I’m not, uh, strong. Or fast. At all. I didn’t consider that he might freak out long enough for me to run away…”

Toshinori blinked. “...Sorry, how long had that guy been harassing you before I showed up?”

“Oh, not long at all. Twenty or thirty seconds, I think.”

“And you went through all of that in twenty seconds. While being ambushed and choked.”

Midoriya just shrugged.

“That is… some quick thinking, all right.” Toshinori commented. He omitted the fact that it was a brand of quick thinking that was more likely to get you killed rather than saving your skin during an emergency. Apparently Midoriya would hesitate to protect himself from a violent attacker, but he’d run for the hills the moment the Symbol of Peace gave him a bit of an odd look. The kid’s fight-or-flight response was all over the place.

“I would have used my quirk to fight back eventually, if you hadn’t arrived so soon… probably…”

“...But?” Toshinori encouraged, sensing the unspoken addition.

“But… not many people know about my quirk. Very few, actually. And I’d like to keep it that way. If it’s possible.”

“Why?”

“...It’s not a good quirk.” Midoriya frowned, hunching his shoulders a bit. “One could do really bad things with it.”

“I could squash a man’s skull with my thumb and level a city block with a punch.” Toshinori countered plainly. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

“It’s… it’s different. You can choose to use your quirk only for good, but mine requires…” The boy trailed off, then hazarded a glance at the hero. “You know what I mean. You understood as soon as I told you, I saw it.”

Toshinori couldn’t argue on that point, unfortunately. Still… 

There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for Midoriya to wield All For One. For one, it could be a different quirk altogether, one that simply mimicked Toshinori’s nemesis’, but that wasn’t quite the same, maybe with some unmentioned limitations (although the palm marks made for quite the uncanny similarity). Moreover, much like look-alikes, duplicate quirks between unrelated people weren’t unheard of, although said quirks were usually quite simple ones, like basic physical enhancers or elemental emitters.

What really bothered Toshinori were the boy’s evident sense of guilt and fear of exposure. Virtually any moderately powerful quirk could be employed to ‘do really bad things’, but hardly any children grew up to be so blatantly scared and ashamed of their own abilities. Family and school usually nurtured a degree of confidence and trust in their own capabilities. Toshinori’s knee-jerk reaction was a byproduct of specific knowledge and experience, but Midoriya’s? If only few people knew about his quirk, it must mean he hadn’t used it much, if at all, in the past, ruling out peer pressure as well. What explanation, what innocent explanation could there be for such a strong negative bias, aside from knowledge and experience he wasn’t supposed to have?

“At least your parents know about your quirk, I hope?”

“My mother doesn’t. My father… isn’t really around.” Toshinori couldn’t decide if that last bit of information was a good or a bad sign.

“So… who did you tell?”

“Just one friend and my father.” Ah, we had one likely culprit then. A father that was around but not really. Suspicious. “And now you, I guess. And… everyone who saw what I did to that villain… including the police…” Midoriya looked just about ready to dig a ditch and roll in it. 

“Well, as I said, everyone seemed to think I took care of the matter, so-”

Midoriya shook his head, utterly demoralized. “Kacchan will tell them.”

“Kacchan?”

“Ah, the hostage. He’s my friend, the one who knows about my quirk. I don’t think he’ll lie to the police for my sake.”

“Ah, I see. I hadn’t realized you two were acquainted.” Toshinori offered him a supportive smile. “I guess that explains your burst of heroism.”

“...No one else was doing anything. I saw you among the crowd, but… I thought you couldn’t help.”

The boy had an almost tortured expression, which reignited the deep-seated guilt that had plagued Toshinori in those harrowing minutes. “...I thought I couldn’t help either.” 

“But you did jump in though. Even though… it hurts you?” Midoriya scanned him from head to toe in concern, as if looking for unnoticed signs of damage. “Why?”

“Why did you decide to intervene, despite your fear?”

“I… I just couldn’t let my friend suffer because I messed up.”

“Well, there you have it.” Toshinori simply said. The boy stared at him thoughtfully, apparently weighing his words carefully, before nodding slowly and resuming his perusal of the ground. Toshinori let the silence stretch for a minute. There was still plenty he wanted to ask, especially regarding Midoriya’s father, but-

“I really do want to give the quirk back.” The kid mumbled. “Should I just… go to the police and ask them? They’ll come looking for me anyway, I guess, but…”

Toshinori pondered the issue for a moment, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The least he could do was make this whole ordeal as smooth as possible for the kid. “I think I can help with that. Give me your number. I’ll text you to let you know when we can visit the villain. If we’re lucky, it may be as early as tomorrow.” 

Toshinori registered the boy’s contact information as they entered a quaint residential area with neat little rows of numbered buildings, pleasantly tinged with the warm hues of the sunset.

“Ah, that’s where I live.” Midoriya said afterwards, pointing at a nearby apartment complex. “Thank you for everything, All-”

Toshinori shushed him with a sharp gesture as he gazed around the street nervously. “Please, don’t call me that when I’m in this form.”

Midoriya froze, then bowed respectfully. “R-Right! Thank you, sir! I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, and taking so much of your time, and-”

Toshinori waved the upcoming barrage of apologies off and bid him a good evening, waiting for the boy to leave. Which he didn’t do.

“Uhm.” Midoriya pointed at Toshinori’s shoulder with an awkward smile. “I need that…”

Oh, right, backpack. “Whoops, there you go.” He tossed Midoriya’s belongings to their owner and watched the kid bustle up the stairs of the building and into one of the apartments. Then he fetched his phone and picked the third number on speed-dial.

“Tsukauchi? Do you have a moment? ….Ah, fine, thank you. Listen, can I drop by your place this evening? Something’s come up and I’d rather not discuss it on the phone… No, but definitely worth looking into sooner rather than later…”

He hung up a couple of exchanges later, after agreeing on the time for the meeting. Toshinori decided he had enough time to make his way back home, shower and have some sort of passable dinner before ruining his friend’s evening. And then he would head back home and he would sleep, even if he had to repeatedly bash his head against a wall to achieve that. He inhaled deeply and let out a long-overdue, exhausted sigh. 

What a day. 

Hopefully tomorrow wouldn’t be quite as taxing.

“THIEF”

Izuku was stuck on the spot, his feet and ankles wrapped in a thick layer of sludge that stretched on the ground as far as the eye could see. The faint light filtering from both ends of the underpass gave it flickering, changing hues, now green like bile, now brown like vomit, now black like tar. It smelled like sewer and dirty toilets. 

“BASTARD”

The slime clung to the walls of the underpass, climbing on them as if endowed with its own will. It crawled up higher and higher, and then went on to expand onto the ceiling. Its surface boiled and squirmed producing disgusting squelching sounds. Izuku looked away from the revolting goo-coated structure he was boxed in, he looked towards the exit, hoping that something, someone would show up to drag him out of that hell.

“GIVE IT BACK”

Someone emerged from the sludge, a few meters ahead of him. A man. A flabby, hairless, mucky man, with haunted eyes and a mouth open in a silent scream. He sweated slime, cried slime, drooled slime, from every orifice and every pore of his body. He waded towards Izuku slowly, an arm extended before him as if to grab him. Izuku couldn’t stand that sight either. He aimed his gaze at the ceiling, right when a huge bubble of gunk popped right above him, and chunky dollops of filth splashed on his face, into his nose and mouth.

“OR I’LL RIP IT OUT OF YOU”

Izuku coughed and heaved, trying to expel the repulsive substance from his pipes, but two cold, slick hands clamped around his throat, trapping it in his body. He could feel the ooze drip down into his lungs, his stomach- he could feel it wiggle and push, like a living parasite trying to break free from the flesh constraining it. Izuku scrambled to tear the man’s hands off him, but those too melted under his fingers like the same fluid that was everywhere, closing down on him, choking him, pulling him apart from the inside-

 Izuku woke up with a whole-body lurch that nearly sent him rolling off the bed, sweaty and breathless. He took in the familiar shadows of his room, and the red numbers of his alarm clock floating in the darkness at his eye level. 

6:20 AM.

Izuku turned on his belly with a frustrated groan, sinking his face into the pillow. Sure, he’d had a pretty harrowing day yesterday. It was bound to leave him a little shaken and maybe disturb his sleep for a while. But seven nightmares in the span of as many hours seemed slightly excessive. Especially seven instances of the exact same nightmare, sentient goo and Munch-like villain and all. The boy fumbled blindly for his phone to check if he’d received any new messages in the last fifty-five minutes. He hadn’t, of course. He prayed that All Might would contact him soon, it didn’t take a degree in psychology to guess the nature of the ‘unfinished business’ his subconscious was so keen on grilling him about.

He stared at the screen blankly, wondering, for roughly the hundredth time, if he should call his father. On one hand, he very probably should. If the man had deemed that little scuffle with Kacchan emergency-worthy, surely a mess this humongous in size warranted a call as well. On the other hand… Izuku didn’t really want to. 

The previous night’s news broadcast had covered the sludge villain incident rather haphazardly, it being a relatively contained accident with no serious consequences or injuries. Izuku was sure they had bothered to touch on the fact in the first place just because All Might had been involved, and the number one hero would receive prime time coverage even for something as trivial as being spotted buying soda at a convenience store. Curiously, Izuku hadn’t been mentioned at all, not even indirectly. Kacchan had been named and shown as the victim, the other heroes had been acknowledged, but All Might had been appointed as the sole person responsible for the resolution of the mishap. Not a word about any irresponsible middle schoolers joining the fray.

Izuku had taken it as a promising sign. All Might had likely interceded for him with the police and obtained a modicum of discretion about his involvement, at least in regards to the media. The hero had been so very understanding the previous day - just thinking about it made the boy almost tear up anew. He had barely reacted to the shocking revelation of his quirk, he had tolerated his unseemly outburst, he had spoken to him as if… as if Izuku was just another innocent victim caught up in a bad situation, rather than a potential menace. He hadn’t hesitated even for a second to offer him his hand, despite knowing the threat that Izuku’s own hands posed. He had… he had made him feel safe, and trusted. He had allowed Izuku to hope that maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could be fixed, that Izuku could handle it with his help, even without subjecting his father to undue sniveling.

And, objectively speaking, what could Izuku’s father do at this point? Izuku doubted that, regardless of his governmental position, the man could prevent the truth from spreading once it had reached both the police and the number one hero. Izuku could make an educated guess about his reaction too, and it wasn’t all that encouraging. It was too late for stern recommendations about secrecy, or for disappointed sighs and gratuitous snark about Izuku’s blind faith in All Might’s mediation skills. And, to be perfectly honest, Izuku dreaded the possibility of finally and completely alienating the sympathy of the one person that had supported and advised him for his whole life, in his own peculiar way. Yes, it was childish of him. Yes, he would have to tell his father anyway, eventually. But he’d rather do it after the matter had been settled, hopefully for the best, and after he’d had a little more time to gather his thoughts and figure out how to word it a little less unfavorably for himself. So, there. It was the 28th of April too, he could wait another day or two, at least. No biggie.

By breakfast time, Izuku had reviewed the issue three more times, had another nightmare, and accepted the fact that this was going to be a long day. 

School went by in that typical hazy fashion that was the result of intellectual activities synergizing poorly with a sleep-deprived brain. Izuku kept eyeing Kacchan warily throughout the first three classes, harboring the half-baked notion of addressing yesterday’s events. He regretted doing it the very moment he opened his mouth to greet him during recess.

“What?” Kacchan growled without sparing him a single glance.

“Uh, ah, I…” How are you was one possible conversation starter. A bad one, for sure. Worrying about Kacchan’s well-being implied that he may not be okay, which implied weakness, which invited aggression as a counter-argument. Did you tell anyone else about what I did yesterday was downright rude, as if Izuku’s quirk was more important than his friend being almost murdered. In fact, any reference to the villain incident was a minefield. Braver classmates than Izuku had already made their inquiries during homeroom, and Kacchan hadn’t taken kindly to their snooping. This really was a bad-

“WHAT?” Kacchan barked, turning sharply towards Izuku and banging his fist on his desk for emphasis.

“Uh, nothing! Just saying hello! Hi! Bye!” Izuku fled the classroom without looking back before Kacchan decided to force-feed him his own shoes.

The first bit of good news of the day reached him during lunch, under the guise of a text.

Hey kid! We can drop by the police station this afternoon at 5 if you’re free

Izuku brought up the virtual keyboard to reply, but he stopped with his finger poised over the screen. He blinked at the unlabeled string of digits identifying the sender.

He had All Might’s phone number. One of many, probably. Definitely one of the lowest priority lines. Or maybe just some sort of burner phone for communications with civilians only. Still. He had All Might’s phone number. All Might was texting him. The realization made him half-choke on his rice.

Should he save it? Would that be a breach of confidentiality? Even if he used a not-too-obvious handle? N1? SP? AM? Ante Meridiem? ...That would just make it more suspicious, wouldn’t it? He’d just… commit it to memory for now. In case he ever needed it again. For purely altruistic reasons.

Sure, I’m free! Thank you very much for the help!

Izuku’s phone chimed again a couple of minutes later.

We’ll come pick you up at your place

That ‘we’ raised a small wave of anxiety in Izuku, but he willed himself to suppress it. He couldn’t expect All Might to shield him from any and all interactions with the force. It’d be fine. He could handle this.

The perspective of visiting the villain revived Izuku’s attention for the remaining lessons, only for him to crash back into fidgety inactivity as soon as he got home and found himself without anything to do for almost two hours before the agreed time. Homework was out of the question, he was too distracted. He figured a nap would be the most inoffensive way to while away the time while also recovering some higher brain functions. And so it was only with a mild heart attack that Izuku was roused by the ringing of the doorbell at 4.50 PM.

“Young Midoriya! Good afternoon!” Even at a glance, Izuku could tell that All Might was in better shape than the previous day. He stood a bit straighter, his smile was a bit wider, his hair was slightly less chaotic. He was also wearing slacks and a button up shirt that, while still dramatically oversized, made him look a bit less like a phthisic hospital runaway. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes! Thank you so much for going out of your way to take care of me!” Izuku declared with a rigid bow to All Might and to the other man standing by his side - definitely a detective, judging by his stereotypical trench coat.

All Might patted the man on the back with an even bigger grin. “This is Naomasa Tsukauchi, my favorite detective on the force! You may speak freely before him, you won’t find anyone more trustworthy in the whole of Japan!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Midoriya.” Tsukauchi politely removed his hat and shook the boy’s hand with an amused smirk, a sign that he was probably familiar with the hero’s odd choice of an introduction. He then peeked behind Izuku’s shoulders towards the inside of the house. “Isn’t your mother going to join us?”

“Ah no, she had a doctor’s appointment booked for today. It’s fine though, I’ll just send her a text to let her know where I’m going.” Izuku had warned his mother that he may have to visit the precinct soon. He had had to justify his singed and grimy school uniform the day before, so he had told her that he’d been marginally involved in the sludge villain incident, and the police was likely to want to collect his statement on the matter. It was only by pure chance that the news broadcast hadn’t outed his abridgment of the facts.

“Ah… We were hoping to have a few words with her too, actually.” Tsukauchi glanced at All Might, whose eyes darted briefly between the detective and the boy.

“I… may have forgotten to mention that.” All Might scratched the back of his neck with an apologetic grimace. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. We’ll catch up with her another time, if necessary.”

Izuku had the sneaking suspicion that being All Might’s favorite detective came at a price. Tsukauchi just sighed, before regarding him with a gentle smile. “Well, if you are sure you don’t mind coming with us all by yourself…”

“I don’t mind at all!” Izuku hurried to reassure them. 

A minute later he was in the backseat of Tsukauchi’s speeding car, typing a message to his mother and struggling to suppress a monstrous yawn, courtesy of his interrupted nap.

“Tired?” All Might asked, intercepting his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“A bit. I didn't sleep well last night.”

“Ah, I know that feeling.” The hero’s expression mellowed in sympathy. “I’m sure you’ll rest more easily once this is over and done with.”

“I hope so.” Izuku pocketed his phone and gazed at the moving buildings out of the car window, mostly just to break eye contact. Somehow All Might’s open kindness felt undeserved, especially for something as trivial as a bunch of spooky dreams. He focused on more urgent matters. “So, uh… how are we going to do this? Does the villain know I’m coming, will I explain things to him? Will you, uh, keep an eye on things from outside or accompany me...?”

“Well, we were thinking of throwing you into his cell, locking the door and letting the two of you fight for dominance and ownership over the quirk- “ All Might grinned widely in response to Izuku’s exasperated gape.

“Yagi!” The detective reprimanded him, only mildly scandalized. The name bounced a few times around Izuku’s brain, plain and mystifying at the same time.

“Sorry, just trying to lift his spirits.” 

“You have nothing to worry about, it’ll be perfectly safe.” Tsukauchi provided, clearly having a much better understanding of the state of Izuku’s spirits despite knowing him for a scant ten minutes. “The villain will be in his cell and we will escort you inside, of course. You won’t really interact with each other, as he’ll likely be deeply asleep.”

“Asleep?”

“Yes. The apparent loss of his quirk has upset him greatly. He’s barely spoken since we took him into custody, and he’s spent the whole night in severe emotional distress. We would have transferred him to a hospital this morning if you hadn’t agreed to help so promptly. As things stood, we simply had a doctor prescribe him a strong sedative. Hopefully he’ll settle down spontaneously after you return his quirk.”

The man’s words weighed on Izuku’s heart like a ton of bricks. Damn, that was… horrible. He’d been holding onto someone else’s quirk for barely a day, and it had already caused that much sorrow. That wasn’t how Izuku’s power was supposed to be used. It would never be, as far as he was concerned.

“I’m sure he will.” All Might commented, all traces of humour vanished from his demeanor. “Don’t worry, kid. It’ll be a matter of a minute.”

Izuku nodded, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip. When they reached their destination, he let All Might guide him towards the detention area of the complex while Tsukauchi wandered off somewhere else, probably taking care of the bureaucratic side of things. He reappeared relatively soon, and they entered one of the cells all together.

The cell was small and mostly barren, furnished with only the most essential goods and surfaces for a relatively short stay. Idly, Izuku wondered what systems they had in place to prevent a… slippery criminal such as the current occupant from escaping from toilets or sinks. Surely they were prepared to- he realized he was spacing out. He should just get on with it.

The villain was indeed sleeping, huddled in a small foldable bedding on the floor. Izuku had barely caught a glimpse of the man’s human form the previous day, yet he was identical to how he’d envisioned him in his dreams. His subconscious was just that observant, apparently. It suddenly occurred to Izuku that he hadn’t even asked for the man’s name yet. The news broadcast hadn’t reported- he was procrastinating again. Just do it, Izuku.

The boy glanced questioningly at the detective, who made a small gesture to indicate that he was free to proceed. He approached his assailant and crouched beside him. The villain’s hand was sticking out from under the blanket, next to his head. Izuku rested his palm against the back of it, and simply willed the quirk out. 

Just like that, it was done. Izuku stood up and stepped back as the man’s body swiftly changed its texture and color, morphing and rearranging itself until a vaguely man-shaped, green heap of goo had replaced the slumbering human. The villain remained dead to the world throughout the entire process.

“...I’m done.” Izuku whispered, quite redundantly. He peered back at the two men at the opposite side of the room, and he didn’t miss the quick, sharp side-glance they’d just quietly exchanged.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation.” Tsukauchi said with the utmost honesty once they were again in the hallway. “While you’re here, would you mind if I collected your statement about the incident? It won’t take long, we already have a clear picture of the situation thanks to All Might.”

“Uh… Okay.” Izuku had hoped, rather optimistically, to skip that part, but he had no reasonable excuse to refuse. Tsukauchi led them to an empty room a couple of corridors further ahead, and held the door open for them. All Might lingered on the threshold.

“May I sit in?” His question was aimed at Izuku for some reason, rather than at his friend. 

“Of course!” Izuku confirmed, when both adults just stared at him in silence, clearly waiting for his permission. The hero thanked him with a small nod and an equally small smile.

They all sat around the desk in the middle of the room, Tsukauchi on one side, and Izuku and All Might on the other. It struck Izuku as a little strange, automatically expecting the two upholders of the law to face him side by side. He wondered if it may be a setup for some sort of good-cop-bad-cop routine. Not that either of them seemed especially suited to the latter role. Tsukauchi was very much the embodiment of professionalism, and All Might… All Might looked especially non-threatening in that moment, almost meek. He was sitting very tidily, big hands folded in his lap and long legs pressed against each other, occupying a remarkably small space considering the size of his frame. It made Izuku straighten his back and sit more neatly by reflex.

The questioning did proceed very smoothly at first. Tsukauchi let Izuku narrate his version of the events without interrupting at all, just humming and jotting down a few lines in his notepad now and then. All Might was just as unobtrusive, volunteering a sentence or two when Izuku happened to stumble on his words, or when he openly allowed him to recount the little scene on the rooftop, since the detective was already in on the big secret. Smooth sailing all round, until the point when Izuku had to bring up his quirk.

“On the subject of your quirk… when did it first manifest, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked.

“A little less than two years ago.”

“Ah, you’re quite the late bloomer! And you’ve only shared that fact with your friend Bakugo and your father, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And your father is one... Hisashi Midoriya, right?” Tsukauchi fished out a sheet of paper from the folder he’d retrieved before beginning the interrogation. He slid it across the table so that the boy could read it.

“Yes.” Izuku blinked, an undefined sense of unease gripping him all of a sudden. “...Why did you bother printing his personal details?”

“You’ve been filed as quirkless in the national registry after a routine medical examination when you were four years old. Your registration hasn’t been updated since then, as far as I could ascertain.” Tsukauchi explained calmly.

“Y-Yeah. I know.”

“...That is a punishable offense, I’m afraid. An accurate quirk registration is mandatory for all citizens.” Tsukauchi’s expression softened when Izuku utterly failed to hide his dismay. “This has no consequence on you, as minors aren’t expected to take care of these things by themselves, especially since quirk recording is often carried out when they’re extremely young. Your mother bears no blame either if, as you say, she’s as clueless about it as the rest of the world. But if your father knew and neglected to sort out the necessary paperwork for so long-”

“Oh.” Oh. Oh crap. Izuku had never thought of that. Why on earth had he never thought of that? Why, in almost two years, had he never considered the legal implications of all that secrecy? Why hadn’t his father? “Are you going to press charges against him?”

“Not yet. We’re at least going to get in touch with him and hear him out before taking any further steps.” The detective gave him a genuinely reassuring smile. “But even if we did, there is no cause for concern. These bureaucratic hitches are usually settled with a small fine.”

“I-I see.” Izuku gulped. He wasn’t going to wait until May. He was going to call his father as soon as he was alone. This probably wasn’t going to snowball into a lengthy legal conundrum, but still…

“What’s his occupation? I’m reading ‘administrative assistant’ here, which is a bit generic…”

“I don’t know much about that. He works for the government, I think, and he always says that all his activities are classified, so I try not to pry... Too much…”

“That is very judicious of you. I wish you could teach some of that tact to my sister…” Tsukauchi sighed, only half-jokingly. All Might let out a low chuckle at that. “Does your father know that you’ve been so reserved about your quirk so far?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t find it odd in the slightest?”

“...No.” 

“Why do you think that is?” Izuku was suddenly very aware of both adults observing him quite intently. He really didn’t want to make things look any worse for his father. He could… slightly reframe the truth, maybe.

“I, uhm… Mine is a bit of a unique quirk. Difficult to use without, uh, stepping on other people’s toes. And I’ve been quirkless for most of my life, and… it’s no mystery that I envied other kids a lot because of that. I was worried that my schoolmates could be wary of me if they knew that I could… act on that envy now.”

Tsukauchi hummed, twirling his pen slowly between his fingers. “I can understand your concern. But quirk counselling is specifically designed to help children cope with such issues, and you’ve been missing out on it because of this extreme discretion. Your father should have realized he was doing you more harm than good by letting these fears fester in your mind.”

Izuku dropped his gaze on his father’s profile sheet. Detective Tsukauchi had a point, but… the matter was more complicated than that, as well as intricately intertwined with his father’s job and the troubled history of their quirk, and… Izuku didn’t want to delve into any of that at the moment. 

“We’ll definitely schedule some counselling sessions for you in the future, I’m sure you’ll find them beneficial.” Tsukauchi hesitated. “...Did something catch your attention?”

Something did, in fact. Izuku was idly skimming through the content of his father’s profile, and a couple of details were giving him pause. The first was, unsurprisingly, his father’s listed quirk. Fire Breathing.

...nor do I have it printed in bold letters in my personal documents…

Yeah, Izuku wasn’t going to bring that up. The other thing, a little more surprisingly, was his photo.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just… I haven’t seen any photos of my father in a long time.”

“You haven’t seen ‘any photos’ of him?” Tsukauchi cocked his head curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve never met him in person, he travels a lot because of his job and he never has enough time to stop by. I only know what he looks like because of an old photo my mother showed me. I haven’t seen it in years too, so…”

“Only a single photo, uh? And this picture here doesn’t strike you as familiar?”

Izuku observed it more closely... No, he was surely mistaken. “No no, there’s… there’s definitely a resemblance. Mine was a very old photo, taken before I was born. And it wasn’t even a photo of him specifically, he just happened to be in it, at an odd angle and in the middle of a crowd… I’m sure this one is more accurate.”

“Are you still in possession of that photo, by any chance?” All Might chimed in unexpectedly, his bright eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, I think so… Hang on, let me check.” Izuku fetched his phone, opened the internet browser… Crap, it really had been a long time since he’d looked at the thing. Back then, he’d saved the file his mother had passed him on a free online storage site that… hopefully still existed? He hadn’t used it in at least four years. Was his account still active? Could he even retrieve the credentials with his current email address? “Uh… Actually, I don’t think I can get it right away. But I printed a copy of it once, it should be at home… somewhere…” Stashed in one of those boxes of old notebooks and magazines on top of his wardrobe, right? Or had it been thrown away when they had moved to their current apartment…? He fiddled with his phone with growing discomfort, acutely aware of the utter unhelpfulness of his babbling.

“We’d certainly be grateful if you could retrieve that photo for us, when you have a minute.” All Might finally conceded, taking pity on Izuku's floundering.

“Sure! I’ll try to find it as soon as I get home.”

“Much obliged.” Tsukauchi flipped quickly through his folder. Izuku was about to ask why the mention of that photo had sparked their interest so much, when Tsukauchi put Hisashi's file back into the folder and closed it with a snap. “Well, I think we’ve covered everything. Again, you’ve been immensely valuable to us, Midoriya.”

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. All Might positively beamed at him and flashed him a thumbs up, which was its own, heart-warming reward. They all stood up and made to leave, when Izuku remembered he owed the two men a proper thanks.

“Ah, I really appreciate that you used your influence to… to get the papers off my back. It was… unreasonable of me to ask, but I  really  appreciate you humoring my hope for discretion anyway. I hope that it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Tsukauchi and All Might traded a puzzled glance. 

“We did nothing of the sort, kid. What makes you-” All Might stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Ah! You did mention it yesterday, didn’t you? That you were expecting your friend to expose your quirk…”

“Yes. I… I imagine Kacchan told the journalists, and you took care of, uh, correcting his version?”

“No, no, there was no need to.” All Might waved his hand dismissively. “Your friend didn’t mention you at all. He was on the verge of fainting when you rushed in, he’d been strenuously fighting back against the villain for a while by that time. He was too exhausted to notice your intervention, and you bolted immediately afterwards. He never realized you were there.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped half-way open, but he shut it immediately with an audible click. 

“...Ah.” Kacchan hadn’t realized. The bystanders hadn’t realized. The police hadn’t realized. All Might hadn’t really realized. That meant that no one, no one, would know about his quirk right now… if he hadn’t gone and spilled the beans about it himself. If he hadn’t dumped an unnecessary confession to the number one hero out of sheer, emotional anxiety.

...Boy, that next phone call was going to be one for the ages.

[amwritingmeta]

15x19: A First Ending

This was a good episode! Oh, I know, I know - we didn’t get Cas back. But oh, boy, that should mean that Misha shot for five of eight days for 15x20 and that makes me want to rub my hands together with the hope of what that might mean. All the good things!

Oh, don’t hang your hopes on mine btw. I had very high hopes that we’d get Cas back, or very strongly established as coming back (as per 13x04) with a final scene of him waking up in the Empty or something like it, and that didn’t happen, but omg I’m so glad they didn’t.

When Jack started praying and reaching out to Cas my heart almost stopped. 

If Dean doesn’t instigate Cas’ return, then oh it would take away too much!

But then Jack’s moment didn’t lead to anything, and now, the more I think about it, there more it feels like a plant. A reminder of how he prayed to Cas the last time, and woke him. We shall see, eh?

And then we got Dean telling Chuck to bring Cas back, which was a pivotal plant as well. I’d been worried if they hadn’t mentioned Cas more than once, with Dean telling Jack and Sam that Cas sacrificed himself to save him, yeah? 

If there had been no more Cas for the entire episode then, narratively speaking, I would have started wondering what role Cas might actually play in 15x20.

But Cas was mentioned more than once. We even got to hear his voice and have that fake return to stir our... I almost wrote loins, but that’s not appropriate so let’s change it to stir our... martinis. 

Ah yes. We could all use a drink, I’m sure.

The dog as well! Dean was so happy and he carried the dog and petted the dog and put it in Cas’ spot in the backseat and was all, yes, emotional substitute! And then... poof. Because it’s not going to be that easy to replace Cas. *fingers crossed*

Here’s mostly why I’m hopeful for something quite different as the actual finale of the show, the proper wrapping up of these character journeys:

This first ending is for those who have followed the show explicitly to watch these two brothers. (yes there’s a word for them but let’s not)

It ends exactly how these viewers -- and quite possibly the writers who wrote it -- always saw the show ending. It gives an emotionally satisfying wrapping up of all the thematic threads of the show and gives the brothers their hard-won freedom, and keeps the brothers riding in Baby, together, indefinitely. 

And these viewers and fans will always be able to stop watching the show there and keep that as their perfect ending.

Except it’s not the ending-ending. Is it?

This episode neatly and gorgeously wrapped up the Michael/Lucifer/Chuck storyline. It wiped the slate completely clean. Especially with Michael killing Lucifer and Chuck killing Michael. These characters just completely annihilating  each other because they’ve all served their purpose.

And Chuck being drained of his powers and ending up ignored, never to be worshipped again, or even remembered, is such a fitting ending for him! And with Dean refusing to kill him, leaving him to his fate, I’d call that Dean integrating his Shadow.

No more fearing it. It’s powerless. Thanks to Jack (Dean’s inner child) who now holds all the power in the universe.

I’d say Dean Winchester has reached a point of internal balance.

And for all of these good things: Chuck powerless, Jack the New God, surely helping to fix what Cas broke by restoring Heaven (I’m assuming Heaven will be repopulated or that God’s grace will level it out) and Jack stepping into shoes that Cas once tried to fill and failed to, to the detriment to so many of his kin, is simply stunning.

I cried, properly, at Jack’s speech. It was beautiful.

But for all these good things and wrappings up of stuff, didn’t the ending feel kind of superficial? Like stuff was missing in those final five minutes or so? Like... I don’t know... Sam mentioning Eileen maybe? Because surely she was brought back along with everyone else, and one episode ago he was losing his mind over the loss of her.

And they didn’t even mention Cas. Jack mentioned Castiel as a good influence, but Cas was just bunched in with “everyone we’ve lost along the way”.

Meh.

Hey, it’s fine if all you care about is Dean and Sam and you think that they’re at their happiest when they get to drive along a road in Baby, listening to tunes and play-fighting and reminiscing about all those people that have come and gone, while they know they’ll always remain the same.

I mean, if we hadn’t gotten that montage at the end of this episode (a fucking MONTAGE ppl) I would’ve started thinking that maybe Misha was coming back to shoot flashbacks for 15x20, as we got to see the brothers remembering Cas (like with Mary), taking a walk down memory lane and driving around to well-known locales for a final hurrah.

But we got that fucking montage, ppl.

Leaving me to feel that they probably won’t also spend forty minutes rememberembering those same people. You know?

Also, dull. And Dabb is anything but dull. And Dabb loves pulling on stuff he’s hinted at in the first ep of the season. 

And I remember reacting to Sam being the one to escort the kid and her mother into the, what was it? The high school, right? For safety.

While Dean and Cas had that tense exchange by Baby, where Dean couldn’t not ask if Cas was okay and Cas saying, hopefully, that he was, but Dean remaining stone faced and distant. “Awkward” is what Belphegor called it.

Oh. Please let there be awkwardness in 15x20. I beg on bent knees. Beg, I say!

Anyway.

What is 15x20 going to be about if it isn’t about finally answering the question of what will make the brothers happy?

A balanced universe, of course! But freedom without love... sounds kind of lonely to me. 

So, have they answered the question of What do I want? yet? Is this what they want for themselves? More of the same? This season has hinted that it isn’t. It’s hinted very strongly that it isn’t.

So, I’m holding my breath that Dean’s final confrontation is to do with happiness and daring to want it for himself. Daring to admit to wanting it for himself. Daring to go after it... 

Cas does not belong in the Empty.

And hope that it’s telling how Jack didn’t even think to get Cas out of there and bring him home. God got Lucifer out of the Empty so Jack definitely has the power. 

And Dean didn’t ask him to get Cas out of there, not because he doesn’t still want Cas out, but because it would ruin the first ending for the people who want Cas to stay dead. Yeah? 

It’s kind of beautifully done, to my mind, as a nod and a thank you to the people who have supported one reading of the show. It’ll be difficult for them to go apeshit when Dabb and the writers can simply tell them they don’t have to watch further than 15x19 and be content that they’ve got an ending that lets them cling to the brothers as the begin all, end all.

And yes, I remain believing we will get Dean and Cas together-together before the end of the show. I have no clue how much of a together-together we’ll get, but for the show not to give us a clear understanding of how Dean loves Cas back is unthinkable at this point, and will stay unthinkable until the show tells me otherwise, because nothing but those two together makes even a lick of sense to me.

Dean’s feelings were in the subtext this episode because that’s where they always have been and hopefully fingers crossed because this ending wasn’t for us, it was for other sides of fandom, giving them room for denial, if they simply don’t want to see that what Dean wants is Cas back.

Our ending isn’t happening until next week.

Dean: It’s a helluva time to bail. There’s a lot of people counting on you. People with questions—they’re gonna need answers. Jack: The answers will be in each of them. Maybe not today, but someday.

For me this may be setting up for 15x20.

Dean could be said to be accepting the reality of Cas being gone this episode. He starts off not telling the whole truth about what happened with Cas (of course), he’s drinking himself stupid, he tries to demand of Chuck to bring Cas back, he finds that emotional crutch in the doggo and he moves into acceptance because what else can he do?

Especially if he’s still reeling and is struggling with his fear of happiness, with not feeling deserving, with it being easier to simply let it all go.

But.

Letting go of the need is healthy, allowing it to make way for the real want that is about choosing Cas, not because he feels lost without him, but because Cas completes him...

That would be something. 

(oh shush let’s get with the romance) (Jerry always brings it)

The brothers love each other, but throughout this narrative there’s been hints that they both long for more. So much more. It would be so weird if it didn’t all wrap up with more being wanted and chosen and offered and had.

So if the answers are to be “in each of them -- someday”, then maybe Dean just needs to reach a moment where he’s ready to admit to himself that he can’t stand the fact that Cas died not knowing that Dean loves him back.

I wonder if Sam will push for this admittance... I’d like to witness that conversation, that’s for sure.

And Eileen. I hope she’s back sooner rather than later next episode!!

What’s next episode going to be about if it’s not about the breaking of old patterns to make way for new ones...? Are we going to follow the boys around as they do laundry and cook and make a few tentative plans for their unknown future? They won’t be hunting much in 15x20, at least if Dabb is anything to go by. I guess there might be something brief as a final The Boys With Their Weapons Doing Their Thing, but... it won’t be a case episode. And it would’ve been strange if it was, you know?

So then. Hope. One more week breathing eating sleeping on hopes and wishes and we shall simply have to wait and see what we get.

I have every faith it will blow us away, but I’m also sitting pretty. Reining in those horses lest they run away with me. And whatever comes our way, I’m so grateful for this show!

[comelylust]

Workmates

That's right I deliver what I promise, Request through my discord, Anon asked for some Miguel with plot so I made a plot attempt haha. if you find spelling or grammatical errors sorry I do this from a tablet 👀read the warnings 👀.  

Warnings: Smut content, +18, street fights, mentions of alcoholic beverages.

 "Ugh I really can't stand it" You mention this to your boss with an irritation in your voice, pacing back and forth with both hands on your head "how the hell are you two friends?! it's so... agh"  

Seeing how frustrated you were all your boss did was scoff at it, he continues to clean the glasses and arrange them on the shelves in the back, he looked like he really didn't care that two of his workers don't get along as well as he would like.  

"You're just stressed, go take a break" Your boss laughed, gesturing towards the employee door where you already knew who was there, Miguel, chances are he was listening to everything, instead instead of embarrassing you your anger continued to rise.

"He's a nice guy, you're just not used to his temperament."  

He's right, you still don't know him well enough just a couple of months ago you moved to Spain for personal reasons, but let's say things were getting difficult and you decided to venture to a new destination in search of opportunities, at first you didn't know where you were going, you were coming and going without a previously planned route, this didn't bother you at all you felt better about yourself above all you felt free for the first time in your life.  

On one of your countless trips you heard a group of strangers talking about a certain wrestling tournament which caught your interest. You decided to join that event after they finished their talk, grabbed your stuff and headed to a new country.  

When you finally arrived in Spain the first thing you did was to look for a temporary job, difficult at first you didn't have the necessary documentation to back up your identity, yeah shit, it wasn't the best idea to leave with nothing but your passport.

You continued your search now in the slums of that country, hoping that someone would offer you help, instead the only thing they offered you was endless fights showing the wimps not to mess with you, earning you a little respect from the locals.  

"Strange" You thought "People usually loathe people like me".

It didn't take you long to figure out the reason why the inhabitants were so used to subjects of your ilk. Miguel Caballero Rojo, a subject without a shred of compassion when it came to street fights, was brutal and violent making his opponents regret it on the spot.

Going to where he always made his appearances you found on the way an old cantina: on the outside it was crumbling, but the old letters of the place were still visible. Entering with your best hard face you asked about that mysterious man, without receiving a clear answer, again you let out a disappointed sigh and a pout formed on your lips.

"Hey, don't be so sad" A middle aged man catches your attention offering you a drink which you cheerfully accept "You're not from here are you, cutie?" Your eyes widen like saucers when he found out you're just an outsider, without taking the drink away from your lips you nodded.  

"Well, I need a bartender so why don't you stay for a while while you wait for him" He offers the old rag along with the apron, you were in doubt, but you really needed this job, the opportunity to work and hit on a guy sounded exquisite without hesitating a second longer you made your decision.  

"Okay I accept, just for a while".  

"I'm Daniel by the way" The old man who is now your boss mentions it.

You worked in that bar for the next few weeks, you didn't do much, just make drinks and take out old creeps trying to be smart. Now the main issue, if you met Miguel, yes, he really looked violent, and yes he had hated you.

When he first walked into the bar he was fuming, his nostrils flared, his muscles tensed and the fingers on his hands were crusted with dried blood, in short he's pissed, to add more to the mix you lunged at him with incredible speed that even Miguel himself was taken by surprise.

"What the fuck" He exclaims as his head face down is resting on the dirty floor, you crossed his wrists and paralyzed him with a knee on his back "Get the fuck down, what's wrong with you".  

"It's nothing personal just that I liked the idea of defeating the best fighter in this neighborhood" You licked your lips forming a fuzzy smile of joy. Miguel tries to move, but you strengthen your grip, raising your hand now in the shape of a fist ready to punch him in the Spaniard's face, until someone interrupts you.

 🌒🌕🌘

 "Sorry Daniel" You fiddle with your fingers as the pout returns to your face along with a blush forming on your cheeks. "B-but you already knew what my plan was!"

"Plan?! What's going on Daniel, are you conspiring with this Chiquilla?" Miguel points at both of you accusingly, scratching the back of his neck furiously.

"Eeh, who are you calling a chiquilla, brat?"

"The only person who is behaving like a brat is you" The two begin a verbal sparring match with overly childish insults. Daniel for his part lets out a loud sigh catching both of their attention.

"You both are behaving like brats, Now Miguel she is the new Bartender she will work here for a while be nice" The last sentence was thrown remarking that she will behave "Same goes for you, Be nice he is your co-worker"

"Coworkers!? That if ever!" Both mention at the same time throwing each other murderous looks.

And here we are back where we left off at the beginning. Working with Miguel was annoying, he is always drunk, when he is lucid he gets in a bad mood and even starts fights for stupid reasons, the problem is when you have to interfere when things get too intense, this didn't bother you, you were annoyed by the idea of saving his ass.

Instead of thanking you he starts a useless fight questioning why you helped him and all the crap you decided for your and Daniel's mental health more than anything else for your boss it's better to ignore him.

But what happened?  

You were not a sports fan, much less a soccer fan, however since you arrived to this place the only thing that the bar TV broadcasts was soccer, getting used to it, you noticed that Miguel on special occasions wears a jersey of his favorite team, your lips curved into a cheshire smile at the prank you were going to do, your plan is only to support the opposing team for no apparent reason, this would annoy Miguel as a "revenge" for what he had put you through.

Tonight you put your new plan into practice, you borrowed a t-shirt from the opposing team that is playing tonight, you put it on by buttoning every button, oddly enough this shirt highlights your beautiful figure, accentuating your breasts and molding to your abdomen/torso, you hope no one notices this, but who the fuck cares, you look great.  

The bar is more crowded than it normally is, you complained about the smell it smelled too much like Cologne, alcohol and sweat hopefully your brain will adapt to it. You headed to your work station serving the drinks to their respective buyers. Until you saw him come in of course with his charming outfit, fuck, you have to admit the man is hot, his manly appearance and his well toned and thick muscles soaked with a light layer of sweat would make anyone drool, unfortunately this was his only virtue.

He gave you a small smile and of course foolishly you returned it, you shook your head forcibly bringing yourself back to reality and remembering the reason why you had decided to do this in the first place.  

"Are you kidding me?" he approaches you intimidating as always, the difference is this time his voice framed mockery as if he knew what you were trying to do.

"What are you talking about, I'm just working" you bite your inner cheek avoiding emitting a laugh, You poured him a pitcher of beer waiting for him to forget the topic of conversation.  

"Yeah right, I know what you're planning, cutie" He takes a long swig of the drink wiping the rest of it off with his arm "And it's not going to work" He winks at you you roll your eyes so much you're able to see your brain, it really is unbearable.

As the night continues, Miguel continues to make fun of you and how your "shitty" team is losing, the strange thing is that you ended up joining him, drinking the whole keg of beer answering his comments with sarcastic remarks.  

You were wrong to think that his only quality is being a handsome man when you noticed that his resistance to alcohol is quite high happened exactly with you, your resistance to alcohol was the best, however, the drinks were doing in you a kind of aphrodisiac turning you hotter as you kept talking to Miguel.

"How about...if we go to the back" your voice comes out smaller than you would have liked you play again with your fingers waiting for an answer, instead he didn't give you one he just grabbed your bicep with his hand and dragged you to the employee only room.  

Before partially closing the door, his free hand wrapped around your jaw pulling you closer to him in a hot kiss, intertwining their tongues licking every part he could, he pushed you into the room closing the door behind you. He connected his lips this time on your neck leaving you with purple and bite marks.

 He held your wrists guiding you to the lounge chair obediently sitting there, still kissing you enjoying your taste despite the bad beer you had chosen.  

"Apparently you're not a rough girl anymore" Separating slightly so he could speak.  

"H-hush don't ruin the moment" You turned into a red, stuttering mess, all Miguel did is smile at you and get up from the seat, your mind raced hoping he wouldn't leave.

"On your knees" His hoarser than normal voice made you shudder and let out a low moan, he had never been so dominant and you would be lying if you didn't say you didn't like it. You quickly went down on your knees looking up at him with eyes clouded in lust.

"Fuck" Solo said unbuttoning his pants, you helped by pulling them down along with his boxers "I'm going to punish you for being a spoiled brat."

 You finally released his cock from its confines, you gasped at the sight previously you could picture it, but your mind didn't do it justice, it's big with veins that framed its outline the red tip was already dripping pre-semen, you licked your lips and included its head between your lips, giving kitten licks.

 "Stop teasing" He growled, you opened your mouth wider with your tongue hanging out, shoving his cock in your mouth touching your throat, you looked up as you gagged which made him let out a guttural gasp.

You pulled back pulling his cock partially out before thrusting harder into your throat, you moan and the vibrations you throw are so delicious he can't take it. Getting rid of his remaining clothes he continued to pound your throat rapidly as he watched your face fill with tears and you try to breathe through your nose so you don't choke.  

"Will you stop teasing?" your eyebrows flex in anger, but this action doesn't last that long, still gagging on his cock you nod energetically. "Good girl."

Thick, hot ropes sprouted from his cock covering your mouth, trying to swallow as much as possible. Inhaling and exhaling heavily catching your breath, you struggled to stand up before Miguel lifted you up placing you face down on the couch climbing behind you, your instinct was to raise your ass and spreading your legs apart, giving him a perfect view of your already slippery pussy.

 Miguel looked at you with carnal hunger re licking his lips as he looked at your innocent form, his palm slapping against your ass in a thud, you squealed as you felt another series of spanks follow leaving your buttocks red.  

 "Remember it's your punishment pretty girl."  

He rubs his fingers over your wet folds and plunges a finger inside you, you yelp at the sudden action pulling away, Miguel firmly holds your hips so as not to go any further and continues to plunge his fingers stretching your tight walls.  

"Easy I'm getting you ready" Miguel works on your sex pulling his fingers in and out "She's too tight".  

Your legs trembled with excitement and your moans echoed in the room loudly, before you could come he pulled away from you collecting your essence smearing it on his long shaft lubricating it.  

The tip of his cock rubbed between your folds teasing your entrance, you moaned needy moving close to him.

"Don't tease" you pout and he teases you, he pushes his member slowly into your pussy. The sensation of your walls squeezing his cock made him throw his head back as you rolled your eyes at the bliss of being filled.  

Miguel pulled your hair back into a ponytail using it as leverage to go faster and deeper, the lewd noises you make are music to his ears instigating him to move.

You could feel every part of his thick cock and how it exquisitely hits that rubbery spot inside you, through your mouth overflowing saliva and your eyes still rolling back. Your walls tremble giving hints of your come.

"Cum on my cock pretty girl" his voice a few octaves lower brings you to the edge, a lewd moan escapes your sweet lips and he quickens his pace chanting your name between curses, his load shoots inside your sex painting them white.

He pulls out of you and you both catch your breath. When you realize what has just happened your face turns red and you try to hide it between the cushions of the couch. Miguel notices this and pats your head.

 "So..." You say shyly.

"Then I'll ask you out, mi amor."  

"W-what?!"  

"Ha, I really love your temper."  

"Idiota" this wasn't the plan nor much less the expected result but you're happy.

I must improve on the fast way it ended haha I hope you liked it.  

[cant-blink]

Trust, Ch. 1

Summary: Despite being hated enemies with Gigan, Mothra ‘agrees’ to go on a date with him and is forced to put trust in this monster. Both Gigan and Mothra are using the FW design.

-

This was probably going to be one of the worst ideas she’s ever had, but she honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing over and over, the same obnoxious attempts to flirt from this asshole as they battled it out time and time again. Hell, even outside of battle, he would yell out “Give me your number!” every time he saw her. What did that even mean?!

It was clear this alien cyborg didn’t take her seriously, didn’t take their fights seriously and it would be enough to break even the strongest of patience. It certainly has gotten on her very last nerve.

“Maybe after I’m done beating your ass out here,” he had said after slashing at her with a claw. “We can bring the action into the bedroom.”

She finally snapped and without thinking: “Shut up! Shut! UP!! I'll go out with you if you just shut the hell up!”

...

The silence that followed was almost as intense as their battle. The blue cyborg across from her tilted his head slightly, visibly taken aback that she actually said that. But she doesn’t back down from her bluff; one of them was going to fold and it’s not going to be her. Foolish and immature? Perhaps, certainly not something her mother would’ve done.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Mothra continued. “Going on and on about ‘showing me a good time’, how about you actually DO it?”

She was expecting, hoping, that he would immediately deny her, admit that he was just messing around. But instead, she heard him let out a laugh.

“You’re serious?”

She was dead serious, and he knew it. He never actually had any real interest in her, and his taunts were just that: taunts, meant to agitate her. It was funny, hearing the increasing anger in her voice as she kept telling him to shut up and fight. Really, she only encouraged him by saying that. But the idea that she would actually accept his ‘offers’ never crossed his mind and for a moment, he had no idea how to respond. She was bluffing, surely, but does he call her on it?

Well, of course he has to. This has become a game between them, and he was not going to be the one that backpedals. Who knows, maybe it could be fun.

“Alright then, babe,” Gigan chuckled, straightening out from his fighting position. “My bedroom, or yours?”

“No,” she told him firmly, her mind scrambling to avoid THAT fate. “We’re going to do this properly. You want me so bad, take me out on a date first.” Ha! Now the stupid cyborg definitely had to back down first! Surely, he would never-

“A date?” Gigan responded with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Well, now she definitely had his curiosity and still not backing down, he stepped closer. She doesn’t move from where she hovered. “Where to?”

“I don’t know,” Mothra told him. Shit, she’s losing it! “You’re taking me, so wherever you think I’ll have a good time.”

Gigan watched her for a moment. She really was being serious, wasn’t she? Alright then, he’ll bite. He wasn’t exactly sure what SHE would find fun, probably something boring like the beach or something. Nah, he had better ideas on where to go to have fun, and he already had one in mind.

“Tell me, how often have you actually travelled off this pathetic little mudball?”

It was Mothra’s turn to tilt her head and she would narrow her eyes if she could. He’s an alien, so of course he would want to go somewhere off the planet. But... “Never. I can’t fly into space, so whatever you have in mind isn’t going to work.”

Just keep being difficult, he’ll give up eventually.

“Don’t be so sure, babe,” Gigan pressed. “Anyway, there is this one bar I like to go to.”

“A bar?” THAT’S this cyborg’s idea of a date? Granted, she hasn’t been in any sort of relationship before, but she’s next to certain the bar wasn’t the usual choice for a first date. Right? Either way... “In space? Seriously, how exactly am I to get there, genius?”

“I suppose the real question is, how much are you willing to trust me?”

“Not at all.” she deadpanned.

“Smart girl,” Gigan snickered. “Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice, do you? After all, I’m taking you, right?” Mothra was clearly not amused with him using her own words against her. “Or do you want to back down? In which case, I’m calling this battle a win.”

“No, no. I’m not backing down from anything.” Her sense of pride forbids it. “But you do know there’s plenty of bars here on Earth, right? We can just go to one of those. I think Anguirus actually has one on Monster Island.”

“Ha! His little shack won’t hold a candle to the one I go to. The location alone is breathtaking, better than anything you’ve ever seen here,” he tells her. “Only the best for you, babe.” He flashed his visor at her, and she flinched the tiniest bit. False alarm, that wasn’t another of his laser blasts; it was his version of a wink. 

He didn’t seem to notice her little flinch as he continued. “That and my friend works there. We’ll get free drinks, without me having to kill anyone for them. Which I will happily do in your local bars. You wouldn’t want innocent blood on your claws, would you?”

He really was making it difficult for her, trying to get her to back down first! He got her in a corner here and neither of them were backing down! What have they gotten themselves into?!

Mothra kept her blue compound eyes on him before she glanced back down towards the ground. After a moment, she looked back up at him and saw him watching her expectantly. There was no way out of this unless she surrendered the battle.......

Which will never happen!!

“Fine.” This is going to be a bad idea, but she can’t back down now. Besides, the more time he’s spending with her, the less time he’s causing trouble. This can work to her advantage. “Again: How am I going to get there?”

“You’ll have to come closer, babe,” he tells her. “Real close.”

Yep, this definitely was going to be a bad idea, but nonetheless she flew closer to the cyborg. Her wingbeats were slow and cautious as she approached, hesitating just out of range. She could imagine her mother yelling at her over this. Hell, even Battra would scold her for this stupidity...

“Closer.”

Her claws twitched, as she gave another flap of her wings to close the distance a little bit more. No sooner had she done that than he reached out a claw and pulled her in. Her legs instinctively pushed against him, trying to keep her body off his and, most importantly, off that buzzsaw. But alas, Gigan pulled her back against him, the smirk ever-present on his beak widening.

“Let go,” she demanded.

“Don’t be so difficult, babe,” Gigan chuckled. “I told you, you’re going to have to trust me, whether you like it or not.” His visor moves to her wings, still fanned open and his other claw trails over the scaly surface, slight dust falling as he does. “I suggest you fold these down. My transport won’t accommodate for them.” His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Would hate to damage such pretty little sails.”

Why does he keep calling her wings that? It’s annoying as fuck, but she has long since given up correcting him on it.

Without a word, she folds her wings down, as tight as she could against her body. Even rolling up the edges to make extra certain they were safe from whatever was about to happen. Unfortunately, she really did have to trust this cyborg at this point, and she hated it.

Gigan started flying straight upwards, carrying her with him. How far up are they going to go? In no time, she was higher than she usually flew and it was already getting colder, especially as they made it above the clouds. The droplets of water on her fur frosted over, and the air was starting to thin. She felt the muscles in her thorax begin to shiver, and her abdomen contracted and expanded quickly to force in more air, the insect equivalent to gasping for breath. 

Her heart began to race in her abdomen as she began second-guessing Gigan’s intentions. He was going to take her into space without protection, wasn’t he? Swear, she will reincarnate in an instant just to kick his ass!

She already began pushing against him, about to struggle free to commence the ass-whooping when Gigan suddenly curled up around her. Blue energy escapes him and began to solidify around them. Now she understood what he meant about potentially damaging her wings, as it seemed the energy already had a pre-set boundary to construct around. No doubt her wings would be crushed or even cut right off if they got in its way.

Mothra rolled her wings up more, making sure the edges don’t extend beyond Gigan’s body. Only after the diamond was fully formed around them did she relax her wings, unfolding them to rest against the transparent walls of their space-pod. She can breathe properly again, and her abdomen relaxed as well. She wasn’t going to suffocate, she was going to be okay. Hopefully... 

It took a moment for her to comprehend that she’s now trapped in here. With Gigan of all kaiju. The available space was quite snug too, so pushing off of him wasn’t much of an option. He was quite warm at least, especially after the cold trip up here.

What was most alarming, though, was the ever increasing sleepiness blanketing over her. The way it was coming out of nowhere wasn’t natural. Oh, no... She glanced up at the alien’s face, only to find his visor dimming. “Gigan?”

“Hm?” His voice sounded tired and his visor brightened slightly. Oh, he was falling asleep, so whatever it was is effecting him too. That meant it was normal and she wouldn’t be left vulnerable to him. Good, because she wasn’t ready to trust him THAT much. She doesn’t say anything further and instead shifted a bit.

The cyborg made no attempt to hold her still and she moved to peer over his shoulder. His sails were flattened against his back, giving her a clear view behind him. 

There was Earth, getting smaller and smaller behind them. They must be accelerating at insane speeds, yet she felt none of the g-forces involved. Very odd.

She felt Gigan rest his chin down onto her back, and she does nothing to shake him off. No, she focused only on her home getting further away. She hoped everyone there will be okay, and that Battra won’t do anything stupid like kill all her humans. Damn idiot counterpart, thinking he knows better than her; ‘The humans are a threat to the world, blah, blah, they must be destroyed, blah blah’. He’s just mad they worshipped her over him. 

Her mind was getting cloudy as the sleepiness overtook her and she too rests her chin on Gigan’s shoulder, cheek pressing against his neck. She can feel his breathing slowing down, until it was undetectable.

This wasn’t just sleep, she realized. This was full-blown suspended animation, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that. Didn’t matter, it was already too late to turn back. Her own eyes dimmed and her antennae drooped as she drifted off, her beloved Earth now a speck in the distance.

She’ll be back, she promised.

[nose-bandaid]

그해 그 달 그날  (that year, that month, that day)

i Need a yanan fluff please! how about fluffy/angst one of him being really tired because hes recently just rejoined the group but loving being back and just needing some comfort and cuddles 🙁🙁

Yanan x (Gender Neutral) Reader fluff (with some angst) | 2.1k words

synopsis: yanan has finally returned to his group for promotions — and he’s elated, the happiest he’s ever been — yet he feels so tired. so, so tired. and so he comes to you for some comfort, and maybe some cuddles and sweet reassurances along the way.

a/n: hi yanon anon !! i hope that i got what you were going for with your prompt! i really like writing this i didn’t know how much i needed this yanan comfort + fluff until i finished it. i hope you enjoy reading it! :)

=====

You were just finishing up some of the last chores on your to-do list when your phone rang from the other side of the room. Skipping over the objects littered all over the floor (it’s funny how in order to clean, you sometimes had to make a mess first), you glanced at the screen and titled your head a little out of confusion when the caller ID read Yanannie. Not that it was unusual for your boyfriend to contact you throughout the day — you guys would text each other whenever you had the time to — but he rarely called unless it was something serious. He’d already established the fact that he preferred texting over calling, so a hint of worry laced your voice when you picked up.

“Hello?”

Yanan didn’t hesitate to get straight to the point. “Are you free tonight?”

“Huh? Yeah, why?”

There was some distant chatter on his side of the line and it sounded like he was trying to move away from it. “Can I come over? At like 7?”

“Sure,” The conversation stalled for a moment before you spoke again. “Is everything alright?”

Just like last time, he answered without missing a beat. “Yeah, I just want to come over.”

“Okay… Then I’ll see you at 7. I love you.”

You heard him mutter a soft “I love you” back before the mumbling near him grew louder and he quickly hung up, leaving you all alone.

You reasoned that the conversation was so awkward and rushed because he was busy — the group was in the middle of their promotions after all. But despite his words, all that call told you was that everything was in fact, not alright. The clock on your wall told you that you still had a couple hours to get all your work done and you sped through the tasks as fast as you could. 

By the time it was 6:00 (5:56 if you wanted to be really exact) everything was complete and you scrolled through your phone in search of a recipe you could follow. You weren’t the most amazing cook out there, but you could definitely make a few basic dishes, and hopefully, you’ll be able to make some sort of comfort food for him. Your eyes caught a familiar name and you looked through the recipe. If you recalled correctly, he really liked that dish, and the process didn’t seem to be that difficult either.

And so, you got up from the warmth of the blanket you had wrapped around you and headed to the kitchen to chop up the ingredients. Not too long after you began doing so, you heard the door knock and you panicked. Yanan wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour, and you were definitely nowhere near finishing the dish. You abandoned your little workstation and made your way to the door, in which you opened to come face to face with your boyfriend. 

Though the man in front of you looked nothing like the Yanan you were used to seeing. 

The last time you got to meet with him in person was about a week ago, when you joined his group for a company dinner. Back then, he seemed perfectly fine, laughing along with the others, looking absolutely stunning in the outfit he had on. But now, even the hat he had on refused to hide the messy strands of hair poking in all sorts of directions, and his posture was hunched, as if the weight of his backpack was far more than he could handle. He had his cute round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, but that didn’t hide the dark bags underneath his eyes, which lacked the mischievous glint he usually had when he was with you.

“Yanan… You look like a mess.” You pointed out meekly, as if he hadn’t realized that himself.

He let out a small pitiful laugh and took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I do, don’t I?”

You stepped back to allow him into your house and waited for him to take off his coat and set his bag down before engulfing him into a warm hug. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until you spoke up. “I was going to make you some food, but you came a little earlier than expected so I’ve just barely started.”

“Let’s just order takeout, don’t worry about cooking.” He muttered tiredly into the crook of your neck, his lips cold from the weather outside. “And I’m sorry, I know I came earlier than I said I would, I just really wanted to see you.”

You chuckled as you pulled apart, leaving a hand resting on his chest. “And I’ve missed you too. How about you take a shower while I’ll prepare some things to help you calm down?” You suggested.

He nodded silently and disappeared to your room. He’d stayed over enough times for you to have some of his spare clothes tucked in your closet, in case of any impromptu visits, like right now. As you heard the shower start to run, you returned to your kitchen and packed away all the ingredients you had prepared — you could always just use those later in some other dish — and then picked up your phone to dial his favourite Chinese restaurant. It was a small shop near your house that you first visited together a year ago and it quickly became a hidden treasure to Yanan. He loved the fact that it was always bustling with locals who respected his privacy and had some of the best food that reminded him of home. The owner laughed when she recognized your voice and order.

“I have some extra desserts that I don’t think we’ll be selling tonight, I’ll add them in there for Yanan. I know he likes them.” She added sweetly. She was like any generic auntie down the street, always taking care of the people she met, but you loved for that and smiled through the receiver. 

“Sure, that sounds great. Thank you so much”

You spent the next few minutes cozy-ing up the couch a little bit, grabbing a blanket from your room, and preparing a laptop so that you could watch the latest episodes of your favourite drama that aired a few days ago. You were in the midst of grabbing yourself a glass of water when Yanan walked out of the bathroom, towel resting on his matted wet hair as he dried himself off.

“Feeling any better?” You asked gently and he made his way over to the couch to join you under the blanket.

“A little, yeah.” He replied, nestling into the comfort of the cushions.

“I ordered the food, it should be here in about half an hour,” You continued. “And we’ve got some episodes we gotta catch up on so we can watch those while we wait.”

He simply nodded at your words, humming just the slightest bit. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at your finger hovering over the laptop. You pursed your lips at his reaction and drew back into yourself, daring to ask him the question that’s been on your mind since he called you. 

“Yanan… are you sure everything’s alright?”

He sighed and rubbed his face, you could practically feel the fatigue radiating off of him. Before he answered, he snuggled closer into your body. “Everything is alright, like I’m finally back with the boys and we’re all together again and promotions are going well, so how can things not be alright? Everything’s perfect…” His voice trailed off and he averted his gaze from yours.

“And yet I find it so hard to wake up everyday, I’m just so tired. I love doing this, I love seeing the fans and going to practice and sharing our new songs, but I’m so tired that I’m starting to get sick of this. Sure, everyone else is tired too, I know they are, but no one else seems to have it as bad as I am… I don’t know if I’m fit for being an idol anymore.” He paused again, and then added quietly.

“I don’t want to have to leave again, I want to keep on going.”

At a loss for what to say, you simply kissed him on the forehead and pulled him closer. “It’s okay to be tired, you know that right? That doesn’t make you any less of an idol, or a person, even. You wanna talk more about anything?”

For the next while, you listened to him talk about the good and the bad of his return, commenting here and there to reassure his thoughts. The toll, not just physical, but emotional as well, his recent return had on him was evident and your heart clenched at his tired state. 

The food came not much later and you spent the time eating as if you were in another world. Worries were pushed aside as you told each other silly stories and jokes about your friends, and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw his mood lift and his eyes sparkle once again. Even if it was just a little bit. You loved all sides of Yanan, but this was by far your favourite, and you wanted to keep him in this happy mood for as long as you possibly could.

One episode of your drama and many mouthfuls of the delicious food later, you found the two of you settling on the comfy couch once again. He rested his head on your lap, body stretched across the length of the couch and dangling on the other end a little bit. His hair had finally dried off and now its platinum strands were fluffy, enticing you to to run a hand through them. You giggled when they flopped back onto his forehead and continued doing so lovingly.

“Sorry to come over all of a sudden and be all needy.” He apologized. “I didn’t even ask how your day was.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “There is absolutely no reason for you to be sorry about something like this. I understand you’re tired, and like I said, it’s okay to be tired, you’re only human, Yanan. If you’re concerned about my day, it was fine, nothing special honestly, but today is all about you, okay?”

He let you gently pinch his cheek to make your point.

You pulled back the sleeve of your sweater to reveal the simple string bracelet that wrapped around your wrist over and over again. “You remember that day?” 

He smirked softly. “How could I forget?” He pulled up his own sleeve to reveal a matching bracelet in a different colour. “I asked the stylists to incorporate it into my outfit today so I could wear it on the stage and think of you.”

“You’re so cute.” You smiled. “Do you remember what we promised each other on that day?”

There was a short moment of silence as he recalled his memories. “That we wouldn’t give up?”

“That we wouldn’t give up.” You echoed. “No matter how hard it got, we’ll push through it.”

Life sucked at times. You both knew that. And sometimes it just sucked so bad and you aren’t able to do much about it. Especially with your busy schedules, moreso his busy schedule, seeing each other was difficult and chances to comfort each other physically was scarce. You could understand how the recent events would’ve affected him.

“You’re really strong, you know that?” You added in a whisper, and he sighed.

“I do… I’m just not feeling it today.”

“And that’s fine, it’ll come back to you soon.”

He nodded at your words. “Can I spend the night?” He then asked softly.

“Of course,” You answered, you were still playing with his hair, although your actions were a little more absentminded now. “You know you’re always welcomed here.”

“Mm, I wasn’t planning on sleeping over, but I’ve never felt this relaxed in so long.” He apologized anyways, as he stretched in your lap, looking almost like a cat with his long body, and his eyes stared up into yours. “I love you.”

You just smiled back, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep on your lap, eyelids fluttering every so often as he entered a deep slumber. Eventually your legs began to feel a little numb from the weight of his body on yours, but you didn’t do anything about it. Not when he was finally able to rest for the first time in a while. Soon enough, you also fell asleep on the couch, not in the very best position, admittedly, though that was a problem to deal with in the morning. Things like that could wait.

So yeah, life did suck at times. But if you had each other by your sides, you both knew you could get through it. And that “getting through it” could also mean taking a break, taking a moment to recollect yourself, before continuing that long run ahead of you.

And it’s okay if you need to take a break.

[popculturebuffet]

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Last of the Clan McDuck!  Review “It Was Worth THE Dime”

This is one of my faviorite comic book stories of all time. Given i’m a massive comics nerd, for both books and strips, that is the highest praise I can give this wonderful, epic, beautifully drawn and deeply emotoinal story. I first discovered it in the local library that had the second volume, and found the rest online at a now long dead fan site. And while it took me longer than I care to admit to really dig into Duck Comics, and even now i’ve only scratched the surface, I can say without a doubt this story is the reason I’m so deeply attached to Scrooge as a character, and that I was excited as  I was for Ducktales 2017. This comic showed me just what Scrooge McDuck should be at his core as a character, and showed me what a wonderful character that is. So with all that glowing praise as you can guess i’ve been wanting to cover this for years, and even considered though back when I was more primarily a comic book reviewer last year. Any time i’ve reviewed stuff before now, i’ve considered it, and with Scrooge’s Sisters Hortense and Matilda presumably and definitely debuting on Ducktales soon, and it’s about damn time, the timing could not be better or clearer to dig into this utter triumph.  But before we can take a look at the story itself we naturally have to take a look at the man behind it: Writer and Artist Don Rosa. Don Rosa is easily one of the best Duck Comics writer out there, seen by many as only second to his own faviorite duck comics writer and God of Ducks, Carl Barks. For those 1 of you who do not know, Barks was the man who created pretty much everything in the duck universe comics wise and a bit in animation too: He created Daisy, Scrooge, Gladstone, Magica, The Beagle Boys, The Junior Woodchucks, Gyro, Little Bulb, Glomgold, Rockerduck, and the list goes on. While he didn’t make EVERY duck, he made so many that it’d be impossible to imagine either version of Ducktales being possible without him.  So of course Rosa was a fan and while he took up the family buisness, he was also an artist and duck comics fanboy on the side. So when, even if it meant a paycut, the opportunity to actually write and draw them came up, he lept at it and thus became one of their publishers go to guys, even if said publisher published the stories overseas where the Duck Comics are far more popular and still going to this day, and ironically where most duck comics printed nowadays get their stories from. Rosa was known for his meticous historical research and gorgeous art that he took his time drawing to get just perfect and showed on the page. The man has easily some of hte best and most detailed duck art around and I still haven’t found a duck artist that can match him.. and if you have or found one close i’d genuinely love to see that. He is a genuinely talented, spirited guy who was sadly mistreated by disney and that, coupled with tragically failing eyesight, eventually ended his career. He’s still around and I genuinely hope to meet him some day as he still does conventions.  The man is not without fault: I don’t get his hatred of superhero comics, as while I get them overshadowing funnybooks and that around the time of his career they were in decline, but it’s just as unfair to write off Superhero comics as mindless.  garbage as it is for people to write off the Duck Comics as “only for kids” and I genuinely wish he’d see that and see how the medium has evolved so much since then. I also grumble a bit as his refusal to allow anything besides barks into his bubble, and having to be forced to include fethry on the family tree, but that’s more personal preference. I like using as much material as you got. IT’s why i’ve wanted to, and hopefully will eventually get around to, write a sonic fanfic using bits of all the various universes that for legal, ken penders being an absolute waste of a human being, and sega being stupid reasons can’t be used anymore. I like taking everything in a franchise and putting it in a blender and it’s why I love the reboot. But there’s nothing wrong with taking things as is, not stepping on toes canon wise, but still being awesome. We’re just diffrent people and that’s okay.  And a lot of his fanboy showing actually lead to REALLY good things: Goldie O’Gilt was a one off character, and while used ocasoinally overseas, didn’t really pick up as a character again until a combination of Ducktales 87 and Rosa’s work with her, as he always loved the character, and fleshing her out lead to her being used more, and gaining a sizeable fandom. He also gained the Cablleros an even bigger fandom by giving them two stories of their own, and fleshing them out a bit more.  And this very comic is the peak of that, taking EVERY mention of scrooge’s past from various backstories to set up adventures, every tiny scrap, and to his credit going to both Barks Himself and various other Barks Experts Rosa was friends with to check his work, especially difficult given he likey had to find these stories in issue or pullt hem from disney archives, and complied it into one long epic that not only uses all this info effortlessly, but spins a compelling story that gives us a clear vision of what Scrooge should be, how he became the man he is, and how he lost himself only to find himself again with the help of three precocious boys and a cynical 30 something duck. So taint all bad is what i’m saying.  As for how this got started, thankfully rosa himself provided the origin story for this project in the back of the volume of his works that contained the first 7 chapters of life and times, as well as detailed notes for every chapter. At the time Rosa was working for Egmont, the big european publisher who handles Disney’s much larger european comics market, hence why most of his stories appeared years earlier in Europe before debuting here. The american publisher at the time , and an old friend of his, called Rosa with an idea: A 12 issue Maxi-Series focusing on Scrooge’s history, since at the time they were all the rage.. and really even today mini series are still a viable market and many indie titles just have several minis instead of an ongoing. So it wasn’t a bad idea, Rosa just simply offered a tweak: He’d tell his publisher at Egmont about the idea, and let her get a crack team of writers and artists to do this proper, and thus Disney could publish it for free once it was done and for no extra cost. Rosa gave his publisher a fax detaling both the idea and the fact that it needed to be done right, given to the best person possible, and done with the greatest care. She agreed.. and naturally handed it to him, as he admits he hoped. She made the right call, a legend was born and here we are.  One last bit before the read more and before I get to the first story itself at last: Since barks wrote a lot of side stories that fit into the canon, I COULD slot them in between chapters, but have instead chosen to review the original 12 part story as was, and do the various side stories and two epilogues, the utterly fantastic “Dream of a Life Time”, easiliy one of my faviorite comics ever, and the also really great “Letter From Home”, which will likely on some level be the basis for the upcoming at the time of this review “Battle for Castle McDuck!”, after completing the story. In other words i’m probably going to be at this for years. so join me under the read more won’t you as I begin the journey of a thousand miles with a single step as we look at the humble start of a legend. 

We begin, after a fun short teaser with present Day scrooge saying his past is no one’s buisness only to get hit with an oh yeah?,  with a scrap book title for the issue, something I want to bring up since while I got that’s what it was what I never got, and  must’ve glanced over when I first read rosa’s notes when I got this copy, was that it isn’t SCROOGE’S scrap book, but his sister Matilda’s who dutifully and happily catologued her brother’s adventures. It’s a really sweet moment.. and something that will hit VERY hard when we reach Chapter 11. If you haven’t read this story or heard of it.. .that’s this story’s equilvent of “Last Crash of the Sunchaser” and clearly Frank and Matt drew from that story a bit for it, but we can get more into the parallels when we get there. A smaller but fun note is that Rosa had specific coin drawing templates, for different indentions and what not he used, and used them for the coins in these intro bits. Yes he admitted he has a problem and yes that’s damn impressive anyway. 

It’s Scrooge’s 10th birthday, and his father Fergus has taken him up to see the family land, Dismal Downs to tell him of the mighty Clan McDuck and show him the ancestral lands, graveyards and Castle. He admits to having taken this long because the Clan McDuck currently lives in Glasgow so it’s kind of a long trip just to show your son “Hey look at the decay and rot that’s our ancestral homeland”. The Clan is on hard times, as a bad shipping deal, the backbone of a rather good barks story and I wont’ be interjecting for every barks reference as it’d get rather tiring though for what it’s worth Rosa provided tons of detailed footnotes in the back of each Fantagraphics collection, so good on him. Speaking of which though they do include 10 pages of Mc Duck family history that was supposed to open this story.. until Rosa’s editor wisely pointed out the story isn’t about them but scrooge and having read his roug draft, yeah.. there’s a good gag here and there, as well as “Dirty” Dingus McDuck, scrooge’s Grandpa and the reason Dewey is cursed with that middle name. Why anyone thought Dingus was a good name is beyond me, nor why Donald thought that was a good middle name back in 2009 is again, beyond me. Good on Don though for getting that past the censors.  But yeah with no money they can’t buy the land back and they were scared off it years ago by a mystical ghost dog, the hound of the whiskervilles. There is treasure in the castle, Sir Quackly’s gold, but he accidently sealed himself into a wall while sealing his treasure in there. Their interrupted by the town assholes, the Whiskervilles who have been grazing sheep on the land and are naturally behind the hound, using the sound of it to scare off Fergus once they realize he’s a McDuck. Because apparently you can keep a Scooby Doo style hoax up for Centuries if you don’t have meddling kids around. Who knew.  Back in Glasgow, we meet the rest of Scrooge’s family: His Uncle Jake, his sisters Matilda and Hortense, and his mother Downy. Jake hasn’t really been mentioned at all in Ducktales and I know next to nothing about him, which given I share a name with the guy you’d THINK I would. I mean I know a decent amount about this Jake. 

But nothing about who the hell Jake McDuck is or why he lives with his brother and his family. Here, you guys watch the dancing Jake, i’m going to probably do that for hours after this review is done, i’m going to go sort this out.  Okay one google and finding the Scrooge Mcduck wiki page on him, Jake shows up here likely because he was referenced in the story “A Christmas For Shacktown” and apparently borrowed from Scrooge and never paid it back. Otherwise.. there’s not a lot about him and unlike the rest of Scrooge’s family he really dosen’t do much that I can remember. Except like 2017 Scrooge, he apparently has become extremely long lived, as Scrooge and Donald STILL think he’s alive in the 1950′s.. and likely is STILL alive in some form in the Don Rosa stories, given his take place after Barks and thus in the 40′s and 50′s where Barks stories were set. Hence why unlike the Reboot, Scrooge isn’t inexpecilbly over 210. But Jake McDuck sure as heck is. Maybe this highlander is a highlander.. you know the movie and tv show type. Maybe someone cut off his head. That’s what i’m going with.

This does bring me to another point about this story: While Barks gave all of scrooge’s family their names, it’s where Rosa got them after all, it’s Rosa who really made them into characters. Fergus as a loving father ashamed his family legacy has fallen and wanting his son to do better than him, Downy as an equally loving wife and mother, Matilda as his sweet and caring sister and later her brother’s moral center, and Hortense.. well here she’s just a babbling baby but her character will become clear and glorious as we go. She is adorable here though and we do get some great bits with her.  Getting back to the plot now i’ve made my points, Jake is riled up wanting to understandably kick the Whiskerville’s asses with Scrooge, who even as a sweet innocent ten year old still has the family temper already, agreeing.. but Downy gently shoots them out pointing that two middle aged-ish men and a 10-year old just aren’t enough to fight an army of them and while she doesn’t mention it the fight would just tire them out for work and accomplish nothing as while it is the McDuck’s land the combination of the hound and the lack of money to move back means it’s pointless. She also mentions their younger brother Pothole, who went to America. This will be important later. 

Scrooge storms off and Fergus laments, in a scene that’s more painful the more I think about it, how his clan has fallen, with he and his brother lamenting their chances at glory are long gone.. but Fergus has hope his son can do better, and for his son’s birthday makes him a shoeshine kit in the hopes of inspiring him to greatness. This scene still resonates since many of us are poor, struggling and not doing so good money wise. I’m sure many parents have doubts and regrets about not being able to do more for their kid.

 Not only that but the story carefully avoids the trap of Fergus accidently being abusive by you know, pinning his family’s future on one 10 year old. While yes he is asking a lot of Scrooge, to restore their family name.. it’s very clear he mostly just wants his son to do better than him. Even if Scrooge was just slightly more successful, Fergus would likely be happy with that. He’s not using the legacy as a “This what you must be” like say the Gems in steven universe did for Steven with Rose’s Legacy, the kind where it sort of suffocates you till youc an make it your own. He’s just saying “this is what you can be” He believes his child can be great and simply once him to reach his full potetial and is simply giving him a means to hopefully do so, a simple home made shoe shine kit. While Jake scoffs, the narration notes the idea isn’t worth a dime.. it’s worth THE dime. The dime that would set Scrooge’s destiny in motion. 

The next morning, Fergus goes to check up on his son and his new buisness but Scroogey’s having no luck and about ready to just quit, the poor child. Also Matilda is dragging her baby sister around like a doll and it’s entirely precious as it is funny. 

But as for those Dorty Boots, Matilda wonders why her dad dosen’t just tell Scrooge that Burt the Ditch Digger is coming. Fergus tells her to quite and then explains his plan: he’s sending Burt to scrooge, with an American dime Fergus and Matilda found, to teach his son a lesson: By giving him a hard days work, he’ll teach him what hard work truly means.. and by having Burt “cheat” him with the American dime, it’ll give him the motivation to keep going and to nto be as wide eyed and trusting. It’s a well meaning if harsh lesson, and the kind you’d expect from 1900′s parenting and fits the origin well: Scrooge still earned his first money square, as he still did work.. but his getting cheated being a lesson dosen’t diminish what it taught scrooge, and helps flesh out what I talked about above, Fergus knowing his son has great potential he just needs inspiration to reach it. And instead of just telling him that he does a con job but it’s the 1900′s. This orign, and Fergus’ part in it would be entirely untouched in Ducktales 2017, the first scrooge based adaptation since this comic came out, and I bless them for it. Frank even said this comic was used as a bible by the writers and while theirs clear deviations, and we’ll get to that, they were mainly done for good reason, and it’s very clear that while scrooge’s history is very VERY diffrent in the reboot, the core of his past is still there. 

So the plan is on and young scrooge spends half an hour killing himself to get Burt’s shoes clean before getting his dime.. and realizing he’s been had, makes this proud decleration that will be the bedrock of his entire life and character. 

Scrooge being naturally stubborn as you can see takes his cheats a leson: There will always be hard honest work, and he will be there to do it and he’ll be tougher and sharper than anyone trying to cheat him out of his pay. Fergus’ plan has the intended effect, and Scrooge having learned a hard lesson now has the drive and determination we know him for. As for why it gives it to him.. I had to think on it a bit but it makes sense: For some a setback like this would make them quit.. for Scrooge it’s just proof he CAN find customers, he CAN do this job, or any at his hardest and instead takes this as a lesson to be prepared ot out think and outfight anyone who dares cheat him again, and to not earn his money by being the kind of guy who cheats a kid out of an honest days pay, but as a good honest duck like his father and his father before him. =He will make his money square so he can be the kind of person this seeming stranger SHOULD have been. Granted we’ll see Scrooge doesn’t end up as the best person at times but .. we’ll get there.  So with the fire inside turned from a spark into the flame Scrooge soon got to work, and by the next panel we see he’s eventually worked his stand up from a small box given to him by his dad, to a three seater shoeshining bench, who he wipes all at once by stretching one of his mother’s girldes over a light pole, a detail I didn’t get the first time around but now love. Naturally being a good kind boy much like his Nephews, Scrooge always gave his proud father a portion of his earnings, if with a full receipt for tax purposes. Because he’s still scrooge after all. His dad wonders he did too good a job while Hortense glxbit’s in agreement. 

As the years go on, a now tween Scrooge is eventually able to save up for a horse cart, and starts selling Fire Wood up in the city. He eventually realizes Peat, an earthy subtance found in bogs I only know about because I had to look it up for this review, is more profitable and with some snappy marketing moves into selling Peat for the rich instead, also showing the young lad already has a grasp of how to sell to obnoxious rich people. 

But while his business is booming, our young hero can’t resist visiting his family’s ancestral home and longing for it, hoping one day to have it for himself and in a nice show of how despite his temper and tenacity forged over the last few years he’s still at hear the kind, sweet optimistic lad he was just a few pages ago, he decides to tidy up the Clan’s Cemetary while he’s here. 

Unfortunately as proof that Donald and Della’s terrible luck comes from both sides of the family the Whiskervilles are sub-glomgold levels of human beings.. or Dogfaces in this case, and are digging up the McDuck Clan’s graves to hunt for treasure. Scrooge tries to simply do the smart thing and flee, but the asshole brigade catch sight of him and mistkaing him for a peat burgalar chase after him.. and spend WAY too much time and energy chasing a teenage boy over some fucking bog grass you clearly aren’t selling yourselves. I mean spare a thought for how dumb this is: They could easily sell of of that peat to put up a fence or chop down some trees to get the material if their really that concerned about someone getting in the bog. Then again this isn the 1800 and 1900′s where the child death toll was simply “Yes”, so they likely thought whose gonna notice one more dead child on our property?

Scrooge heads toward the castle and is gestured in by a friendly mystery duck who gladly shows him around and can tell he’s a McDuck just by look, showing the castle is still in glorious condition as the whiskervilles are too spooked to go in, hence why they didn’t chase Scrooge inside. I’d say being afraid of ghosts but not murdering a child is weird but these are the same guys who thought murdering a child was plan A. We’re not dealing with a brain trust is what i’m saying.  So the mystery duck shows Scroogey around, showing off some colorful stories about his ancestors recycled from that scrapped prologue I mentioned. THe mystery man, who brushes off Scrooge thinking he’s a McDuck asks Scrooge what he’s doing to restore the family glory and while Scrooge points out he’s already working on it, Mystery Duck points out he’s still missing something: He has the drive and the dream, but peat and shoeshining, while getting him good money for his family, aren’t the thing you can build a fortune or a future off of. He then points out where Scrooge’s dime comes from: America.. and that gives the boy the idea to head to the states. As for what he could possibly DO there to start, the mystery guy mentions his uncle pothole. So Scrooge has the dream, the drive.. and now a plan: Go to america, work for his uncle on the riverboats, and work his way up from there till he finds his fortune and restores his family name.  But while his future is settled, the present is still an issue and Scrooge wants to teach the child murder club a lesson and thus borrows, though MM wisely points out it’s all his property a horse and some armor, and stuffs the armor with peat. As for what his plan is.. welllll

That.. is fucking awesome. And far from the last fucking awesome moment in this thing. It also shows off even as not quite a teen yet, Scrooge is still a badass already, and while he doesn’t have his trademark strength or fighting skills quite yet, his ingenuity is already there.. and that will always trump both. The Whiskervilles run away and into some quicksand and Scrooge vows to return one day as laird and reclaim his family land. But that’s a story for a few chapters down the line. As for who the mystery duck is, he’s naturally Sir Quackely himself, or rather his ghost, who was simply guiding Scrooge and didn’t give him the treasure as simply handing him the money wouldnn’t restore their family’s good name or continue their bloodline now would it? 

For now Scrooge returns to work for a bit before finding his way to America: A cattleboat to New Orleans looking for a Cabin Boy. And so Scrooge bids farewell to his family. His Dad, feeling bad he can’t even give his boy shilling, gives him the family pocketwatch with jake pitching in with the family gold dentures. While Scrooge naturally refuses to sell the watch, he does plan to sell the teeth as soon as possible for good reason. We then get some sweet goodbyes with him, his sisters (With hortense uttering her first words to everyone’s astonishment) and loving mother as he wonders just what awaits him in America. 

And there he stands on the bow of a ship, heading for a new land, in New Orleans he can be a new man. And we’ll see just what kind of man he becomes as this series continues. For now this is the end of a chapter but the beginning of a lifetime. 

Final Thoughts on Last of the Clan McDuck:

This story is excellent. While there are even better chapters to come, this one is still one of the most memorable and most joyous, showing just how Scrooge became what he is, where some of his values come from, others will be instilled along the way , and beginning to flesh out his family. We see Scrooge’s love of wealth comes from starting from the bottom, growing up with a family that barely had anything and badly needed everything, but was loving and instilled fine morals in him. We also see a Scrooge far removed from the bitter old man he is in present day, an optimistic naïve young lad who only wants best for his family. It’s a nice stark contrast to who he’ll become, good and bad, and a nice way to both compare him to Huey Dewey and Louie and break your heart as his own hardens before briefly turning black later on.  The art, as is standard for this series and Rosa, is breathtaking, and the story isn’t lacking in good jokes, their just downplayed so the story itself can take center stage. There’s nothing really more to say: it’s an excellent start to an even more excellent tale and stands proud among an already stellar story as one of it’s finest outings. 

NEXT RAINBOW: Scrooge goes down to the mighty Missipi to work on the riverboats and meets one of his signature Rogue’s for the first time in their first form, as well as Gyro’s dad.. or grandpa.. or possibly both I don’t know his family tree. Point is, tune in next time for some riverboat hyjinks.  Until then if you’d like to comission an episode of any animated show, especially ducktales and the various other duck related disney shows, or another Duck Comics story you really like from Rosa, Barks or whoever you want really, I take commissions for 5 dollars a review, with 5 dollars off your full order when you put in for more than one episode or issue. You can also follow me on patreon.com/popculturebuffet and for just two bucks a month get access to polls (which i’ll start once we have at least three patreons), and my exclusive discord server. And if you liked this review be sure to reblog it to show off. My self promotion done until next time: There’s always another rainbow. 

[agentsofsupernaturalmarvel]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

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[hansoulo]

The Girl Part 7

Pairings - The Mandalorian/Reader

Warnings - cursing

Word Count - 1,444 words

Tag List - @baar-ur @bruithel @jarrendyn @gothtechie@maryan028@aethersghoulette@hellobinayxo @guineapigzwei @random922929 @iamwarrenspeace @deputy-videogamer @littleevilme03  @ah-callie @sunkissed-winter @ash-fan-things @claynarwale @spottedlekkudancer @sabi615 @waddles03 @greatfandomsgalore @missnightingale97 @delectablyvaliantmentality @backontheolebullshit @a-hopeless-fan @crushingonmando @superfluffy92 @thirstyforvenom @stxriss @ababysupernova

A few days had passed since their conversation and things had, for the most part, returned to normal. But now the Mandalorian had found his eyes lingering longer on the swell of her hips, hands brushing up against her maybe a bit more than before. If (Y/N) noticed, she didn’t say anything. He wished she would, just so he could deny it.

Ever since she told him she lived on Naboo, the Mandalorian had spent hours pouring over his datapad in the dark, reading everything he could find about the planet. Obsessive, maybe, but he liked to think it came out of good intentions.

One night he stumbled on a report about the Festival of Light, an annual celebration of Naboo’s joining the Galactic Republic, and found that it began in a little less than a week. He started to map out the ship’s course in his head, planning their trip before he even asked her if she wanted to go. He hoped she did.

As he piloted the ship through hyper-space the next day, the Mandalorian brought up the festival, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

“Hey (Y/N),” he called out towards her. She appeared in the doorway a few moments later, hair mussed from letting the child run its hands through it. The baby toddled in after her, a smile on its face.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, cocking her head.

Not taking his eyes off the front viewport, the Mandalorian made a noise of disagreement and began to speak, trying not to sound too rehearsed.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he assured her, “I was just wondering,” he trailed off.

“Yes…?” (Y/N) said, smiling slightly as she climbed over onto the co-pilot’s seat,  plopping down with her legs crossed. The child came in behind her, reaching up to be held, and she obliged quickly, setting it in her lap.

“I was just wondering if…” Kriff, he thought, Just spit it out.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, amused at his hesitance.

“You were wondering if…” (Y/N) repeated, laughing.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to Naboo,” the Mandalorian finished quietly. He turned to her, expecting a shake of her head, but instead he was met with what was quite possibly the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen.

“You would do that for me?” she asked softly, eyes wide. Silly girl, he thought to himself, I would turn the galaxy over for you if you asked me to.

He nodded and looked back to the front viewport, trying to focus on piloting and not on the way her shirt had fallen down to expose her bare shoulders.

“It’s out of our way, but I remember something about a festival,” the Mandalorian said, as if he hadn’t already charted their course and made travel arrangements.

(Y/N)’s eyes brightened and she started to bounce the child in her lap, making it coo.

“The Festival of Light,” she remembered wistfully, “I haven’t thought about that in years.”

He nodded and cleared his throat awkwardly before assuring her, “It’s alright if you don’t want to go. It might be too dangerous, with the price on my head and -”

She turned to him, her expression serious.

“Din Djarin,“ Kriff, was she mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

“(Y/N) (L/N),” he parroted, waiting for her to finish.

“If you don’t take me I will never stitch you up again. Or do your laundry. Or help with repairs. Or take care of the baby while you go out. Or-”

The Mandalorian laughed at her mock-threat and reached to scratch the child behind its ears, voice still amused when he spoke again.

“So, do you want to go?” he asked, already sure of her response. (Y/N) nodded her head and met his eyes, another smile playing at her lips.

“I would like to go very much,” she answered.

            ———————————————————————–

Later that week, though he wasn’t entirely sure how, the Mandalorian found himself being dragged through a bustling market in mid-afternoon, the child following beside them in its metal pod as they walked through the city of Theed.

He attempted to warn (Y/N) about keeping a low profile, but any arguments he tried to make got caught in his throat when she grabbed onto his upper arm, leading him off the Razor Crest. He’d never seen her so animated, practically running through the stalls as she pointed to various vendors and engaged with the locals. The city was bustling with activity and he struggled to keep up with her as she led him about.

Before he could register what happened (Y/N) had let go of his wrist and run off, disappearing into the crowd. Where the kriff had she gone now? The Mandalorian thought to himself, panicking slightly. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when she appeared at his side a few moments later.

She pulled him and the child into a side alley, empty except for a few wandering festival-goers, and it was then that he realized she was decked in flowers. Their sweet scent was potent, even through his helmet, and the Mandalorian’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked (Y/N) up and down. A garland of millaflowers was around her neck and a crown of purple rominaria sat nestled on her head. A few loose petals had fallen, littering her hair, and the noon-day sun was casting her face in a faint orange glow.

She had never looked more beautiful.

“They give them out them out to people at the festival,” (Y/N) explained, slightly out of breath. She reached down into the canvas bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out another garland. Crossing over to where the child sat in its pram, she gently set the flowers on its ears, making its eyes go wide as it smelled the scent. When she laughed, he thought it sounded like bells.

Before the Mandalorian could protest, (Y/N) had taken the rominaria off her hair and reached her arms up towards his head. He curled his fingers around her arms, stopping her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, attempting to sound stern. It, evidently, wasn’t very convincing and (Y/N) grinned at him, her expression teasing. Dropping the crown atop the Mandalorian’s helmet, she stepped back from him, making him let go of her wrists. Her hands rested on her hips and she smiled again, obviously satisfied with her work.

“It suits you,” she assured him, “Purple is definitely your color.”

The Mandalorian let out an exasperated sigh and reached to take the flowers off his head, trying not to sound amused.

“Very funny,” he said flatly, stepping towards her. He held the crown and placed it onto her head lightly, letting his hands brush against her neck. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the Mandalorian could have sworn he felt her shiver.

      ——————————————————————————-

Later that same day, they sat around a makeshift campfire. (Y/N) was attempting to feed the child some street meat they had bought earlier, but it was proving difficult. It didn’t seem to want to eat the foods as much as throw them.

The sun was beginning to set and she had assured the Mandalorian the best part of the festivities was yet to come. (Y/N) had laid out out a blanket for them high on a sandy hill, above the main city. For the view, she had said. Her eyes had sparkled when she recounted the light show and fireworks that ended every festival, voice ringing hollower after she told him how her father used to set her on his shoulders to see above the crowd.

“It feels strange to be here,” (Y/N) admitted, “without him.”

The Mandalorian turned to look at her, noticing her head drop.

“Hey now,” he chided quietly, “None of that.”

Pulling her into his side, he rested a tentative arm around her shoulders. Touch was still new to him, but he could try. For her, at least. She placed a gentle hand on his chest, palm meeting cold metal, and not for the first time the Mandalorian wished she could touch his bare skin instead. (Y/N) sniffed quietly and went to rest her head on his shoulder, but before her temple could meet his armour he heard a rough voice calling out from behind them.

“So!” the voice shouted, “Mando’s got himself a girl now! Shame I’ll have to kill her to get to you.”

The Mandalorian could feel (Y/N) stiffen against him and he let go of her, turning to face whatever waste of carbon decided to entreat on them. I just can’t catch a break, can I?

(A/N: I keep saying I’m gonna pace myself and try not to post too quickly but… here we are. Did a lot of research for this chapter so everything you read about Naboo is (hopefully) canon-compliant!)

[sleephyjhs]

You Come Out as Bisexual (Reaction)

[ requested / masterlist ]

a/n :: i’ve watched many coming out videos and have asked people who have come out themselves about their experience, but as this is something i’ve never done, i apologise if it seems unrealistic or reaching at some points.

KSJ

You’d spent the whole week figuring out how you were going to tell Seokjin, your best friend of many years, that you were bisexual. For the first time after months of different partners and experiences, you finally felt comfortable in the identity you had decided for yourself. Now that your parents were out of the way, the next person was Seokjin.

All in all, Jin was a very open and accepting person. No matter what you had to tell him before, he always seemed to take it better than you expected. Despite your certainty he would be just fine with your determined sexuality, a small fragment of you couldn’t help but worry.

You chose the car as the place to break it to him. Although there were thousands of better locations to come out, you worked out that a moving car lowered tb e possibility of him being able to walk out on you.

After a selection of karaoke songs and still a decent half hour to your destination, you turned down the volume to get his attention, “There’s something I want to tell you, Jin,” he raised his eyebrows without saying a thing to let you know he was all ears, “I’m bisexual.”

There was a brief pause between your words and his response; a pause that felt like forever, “Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?”

“Well, your sexuality doesn’t negatively impact me or anybody else so there’s nothing for me to be mad about. But hopefully, you’re happier knowing more about yourself and your identity than you perhaps did before. And so I’m happy for you.” Seokjin flashed you a smile. Your eyes couldn’t help but become watery at his interesting but accepting reply to your news. Thanking him would never do your relief justice.

MYG

You knew well that Yoongi’s schedule was packed to the brim. He’d hardly come home in the past week. Sleeping at the studio every other night had become his routine.

Tonight, however, he’d assured you that he would be there to spend what little time he had with you. What he didn’t know is that you were preparing to tell him a secret you’d kept to yourself for a while now.

After three years of dating, you should have known you could have told Yoongi anything. But for some reason, announcing your sexuality to him felt a thousand times more difficult. You’d never seen him properly angry and your biggest fear was that tonight would be the first time.

You gave Yoongi a little while to settle down after coming home. Eating together wasn’t something you were able to do often, so you took your time to enjoy it while it lasted, “Can I talk to you about something?”

He nodded aimlessly, still chewing the last few strips of beef, “I’ve been thinking about this for some time, I just hope it doesn’t change anything between us,” You started, which caught his definite attention. Yoongi held your stare as you spluttered, “Yoongi, I’m bisexual.”

You watched with sullen eyes as his face fell to the table. Was he just processing your words, or was he reconsidering your entire relationship? It wasn’t unusual for Yoongi to fall silent at times, but sudden anxiety couldn’t help but fill your mind, “So I’ve got twice the competition now?”

Yoongi raised his eyes again to reveal a gummy smile, “This changes nothing, Jagi. I’m glad you felt able to tell me though.” He reached out for your shaky hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I’m happy you can trust me.”

JHS

Throughout your vacation with Hoseok, you couldn’t help but wonder when the best time to break your news to him was. Actually, you wondered if there was a best time. You had no doubt he would be accepting regardless, but a small part of you couldn’t help but worry.

On the morning of your last day at the villa, you made your way down to the kitchen where Hoseok had already prepared you a breakfast for the day ahead of you, “Good morning lovely, did you sleep well?” His beaming greeting couldn’t lower your anxiety that you awoke with. You simply nodded at his question and slid onto a barstool, “Are you alright?”

“Actually,” you began, fiddling with your nails, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Hoseok widened his eyes and slipped onto the seat opposite you, placing the last bowl of fruit in between you.

“I’m all ears, what’s wrong?”

You took a final deep breath, “Hoseok, I think I’m bisexual. I’ve been wondering whether to tell you or not because I’ve been scared of your reaction but-“ Despite your deep breath, you couldn’t stop pent up tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“No, jagi,” Hobi cooed, rushing around the island to comfort you, “you didn’t have to be scared, everything’s alright! How long have you kept it from me?”

He wiped away your tears with his sleeve, “A few months. I just didn’t want you to think I wanted to break up or anything-“

“I don’t think that at all. I’m happy that you’re able to understand yourself better now.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, and handed you the spoon he laid on the counter for you, “Come in, let’s eat something. There’s a long day ahead honey.”

KNJ

Namjoon had always been the person you relied on for your advice. Even the worst situations you had found yourself in could seemingly be answered by him. You texted him to alert him you had a new dilemma, and within minutes he’d invited you to your local coffee shop.

In half an hour, you made your way to the meeting place, only to find Namjoon sat at a table at the back with his order and yours before him. Since you could see a few pale sugar sachets on the table, you made your way over to him, not forgetting to brace yourself to receive his advice.

After a couple minutes of smiley greetings, Namjoon asked you to elaborate on what was playing on your mind, “How would you go about telling your parents something important without being cheesy?”

He stared at you blankly for a few seconds and proceeded to drop his chin slightly, “Oh my, you’re pregnant.”

“What? No, God no. I’ve been meaning to come out as bisexual for a while now-“ you paused mid-sentence, realising swiftly that you hadn’t meant to blurt the last part to him.

Avoiding his eye contact was difficult, so you instead faced your twiddling thumbs which laid softly in your lap, “You didn’t mean to tell me that just now, did you?” All hopes you had that Namjoon hadn’t heard you melted. Now all you had to do was face his criticism.

You shook your head in response to his inference, “I forgot that you didn’t already know. I’m sorry if it’s upset you.”

“Why would it upset me? It’s your love life, not mine. I’m glad you’ve been able to come to terms with it.” A smile spread from dimple to dimple as he took another sip of his americano, “All it means is you’re now officially getting more action than me.”

Regardless of how much of a good friend he was to you, a playful punch to the shoulder couldn’t be helped.

PJM

Ever since you were little, you had considered your twin brother, Jimin, to be your best friend. Eventually, the two of you came to share everything that happened in your person life. This time, however, it took you more time than usual.

Jimin was the last person in your life that you hadn’t opened up to about your sexuality. Many years had been spent coming to terms with a part of you that had caused too many sleepless nights, and now that you’d found your solution, you wanted to share it with him.

The last concert of their Seoul series had come to an end, and the day before, Jimin had provided you with backstage passes to hang out afterwards. To beat the rush of adrenaline-filled fans, you headed out during their ending ments to be able to greet them as they came back.

“You made it!” Your attention was drawn away from your phone by the excited greeting deliver red by your brother. He jogged over to you with the little energy he had left and embraced you tightly, “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” you laughed into his ear, before going to congratulate the rest of the members for completing their tour successfully. You tried to distract yourself from what you were really there to do, but it didn’t work, “Is there a place I can talk to you? Alone?”

Jimin guided you into a smaller vanity room and closed the door behind you, “What’s up? Did something happen?”

You shook your head, “No. There’s something I’ve told a lot of other people but I haven’t been able to tell you. I wanted to do it in person-“

Jimin raised his eyebrows as his eyes hollowed in concern for his sibling, “I’m bisexual.” In light of your news, Jimin leaned back and sighed in relief.

“You had me so worried for a second! Ahh I’m so happy for you!” Being the cuddly brother he was, Jimin couldnt resist bouncing from the sofa and embracing you, not forgetting to comfort you meanwhile.

KTH

When you both had enough troubles, you and your boyfriend, Taehyung, would retreat to the bedroom to share with one another and come to your own solutions. His intentive listening and soft spoken easily made you feel at easy, and so you picked this time to tell him your newest trouble.

Sexuality had always been a concern of yours, as you were never able to settle on what fitted you best. Coming to terms with your bisexuality felt like the biggest weight lifted from your shoulders, now all you had to do was open up to those closest to you.

Without your initiation, Taehyung called a ‘duvet meeting’ as you had nicknamed them. You listened closely to his concerns about his upcoming comeback and tried your best to console him as much as you could. The two of you had very different life experiences, but somehow still understood each other perfectly, “Can I tell you something too?”

“Of course you can, what’s up?” Taehyung replied, refusing to pull his eyes away from yours.

You breathed in, praying that he wouldn’t become angry at your news, “I think I’m bisexual. Actually, I know I am.”

His dimples fell from his rosy cheeks as he processed what you had said. You have him the time to think of how to respond, “What does this mean for us? Are you trying to tell me something else too..?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Tae. It’s just a part of me that I wanted to share with you. I just need support, that’s all.” You explained, taking his hand from under the pillow and winding your fingers around his, “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Then it won’t,” He smiled, pulling the covers from your waists up to your shoulders, “You’ve got all my support, lovely.”

JJK

Growing up with Jungkook meant you followed each other everywhere and knew things about the other that nobody else did. When he came to Seoul yo train as an idol, you followed quickly to continue your studies.

When possible, it was difficult to find you separated. Whether you sat in on a dance practice or joined him in the gym, it felt strange when you weren’t together.

Jungkook has always been open-minded, which was one of the many traits you shared. You had to hope that opening up about your sexuality wouldn’t suddenly close his mind.

As soon as your work shift had ended, you headed through to the company, where you soon found Jungkook preparing a cup of ramen in the lounge. Of course he was, when wasn’t he hungry? As he witnessed you enter, he pulled another one down from the cupboard and made it to your liking. As he was the better chef between you, you left it to him.

Jungkook placed it down before you, but didn’t hesitate to start eating before he’d sat down, “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

You inhaled, praying that this wouldn’t be the end of your longest childhood friendship, “I’ve been thinking a lot recently and.. I think I’m bisexual. Actually, I know I am. I know it’s not really anybody’s business but, it’s still important to me.”

Jungkook let his disposable chopsticks sink to the bottom of the cup as he processed your newest secret, “So, I still have a chance with you?”

You widened your eyes as you stared at his serious expression. Had he really just confessed to you? Jungkook was one of the best pranksters you knew; it was difficult to tell between his genuine and fake seriousness, “I’m kidding!” He giggled, clapping mockingly as he finished another bite of ramen, “No but really, I’m glad you look happier now; miserable doesn’t suit you well. Just eat your ramen before I eat it.”

^ i am genuinely so sorry this took so long! school hit me harder than i thought it would. also thank you for clarifying in a different ask about not having to be romantic, i appreciate it! 💗

[cass-watson]

⋆ ⠀⠀⠀࿐ྃ ▸ ; ⠀ [ crystal reed. human/feeder. 36. Bisexual. cisfemale. ] was that just CASSANDRA WATSON, I saw coming out of THE GYM? the SELF-DEFENSE INSTRUCTOR is best to be described as + INDEPENDENT, but pronouns could also be - RECKLESS and as well as being previously unmarked they can easily be noticed by RUNNING HEADFIRST TOWARDS THE DANGER, LIVING WITHIN HER MEANS, DENIM JACKETS, as well as THE HEAD OF MEDUSA, which has only just appeared. @lovebitestarter

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Infidelity, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of overdose, Mentions of Physical, Verbal, and Emotional Abuse (None of it is explicit or heavily touched upon beyond a sentence or two, but it is still there) [[If anyone cannot read this due to the triggers let me know and I will give you the short version! I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to force themselves to read something that’s potentially triggering.]]

About You

My name is Damian and I live in the cst timezone. I’m twenty-five, currently working from home, and have two dogs of my own. I am open to any kinds of plotting! Currently my discord is not setup so for now the best way to reach me via tumblr messenger. The biggest plot I am looking for is for a vampire who Cass is the personal feeder for! Other than that I enjoy drinking iced tea and knitting while listening to podcasts.

— *    ⟢ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕤 !

full name: Cassandra Ann Watson

species: human

age: thirty-six

date of birth: april 19, 1987

hometown: everett, washington

gender: cis female

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

+ likes: working out, yoga, going for walks with her dog, autumn, cooking, gardening - dislikes: people who get into her business, the ocean, heights, coffee, mustard

positive traits: Independent, Courageous, Protective, Dependable

negative traits: Reckless, Impatient, Impulsive, Possessive

hobbies: Archery, Yoga, Cooking, Gardening, Trying various new foods

fears: The Ocean, Heights, Being Cheated On

Biography

You were born in a town in Washington. To two high school sweethearts who loved each other and they loved you. The apple of their eye. Doting on you, supporting you, you walked with them hand in hand. And when your family grew bigger that just meant more love and attention to go around. You loved your siblings, even if they did not resemble you or your father, your mother told you that meant god wished for your family to be as colorful as a rainbow.

You are a child no longer

Your childhood was a lie. A lie you would not see until you were finally old enough to understand. Your father is an alcoholic and when he’s not out on the job he’s at the bar, you rarely see him sober. Your mother got pregnant in high school and the year you were born was the year she dropped out, to raise you. She reminds you constantly that if it weren’t for you her life would be better. Your siblings, whom you love so dearly do not have the same father as you or each other. Your mother sleeps with other men a lot. Sometimes she’s doesn’t come home. On those nights it’s up to you to take care of the home, of your family. You are more of a parent than your own parents ever will be.

You cannot escape their claws

When you graduated high school it was with honors. You were almost valedictorian. You wanted to be more than your parents were and more than they thought you would be. You get accepted into the college of your dreams on full scholarship. There is nothing that is stopping you from finally achieving your goals. In your first year, only a few months in and you get a phone call. Your father beat up your mother and her current secret lover pretty bad. Both are in the hospital, your father in jail. Your mother begs you to come home. She needs you. You drop everything and move back home. To take care of your family again. Your mother tries to be better, do better now that your father isn’t around but she falls back into old habits. She tells you that with you back home where you belong and your father in jail she can do what she wants. You are left back at square one.

You love so much but who will love you

You are now turning twenty and working at the local diner, trying to make ends meet. Your brother picks up a job after school and your sister watches your two youngest siblings while you’re at work. There is a guy your age at the diner. His name is Derek and he washes the dishes, maybe even cooks if the diner is short staffed. He flirts with you often and you just roll your eyes with a smile. You have no time for dating or flings. But one night you both work late. You both talk as you work and for once you felt seen, all your issues, your baggage is accepted. You feel lighter than you have in years. You decide to go on one date with him. It turns into two that turns into more. You are in love, truly in love and you tell yourself that this is will last. Through the rose colored glasses you don’t see him breaking your heart until it is too late. Another woman is in his bed and you see red. You want to murder him, no you want to hurt him like he hurt you and it takes everything you are to not do it. Instead you break the nearest thing he owns, you slash his tires, you make sure he knows that you will kill him if you see him again. 

You don’t let yourself cry

Four years later and you set foot into Everwinter for the first time. You had to get away, you needed a fresh start. You needed to bring yourself happiness for once. And the first couple of years go by fine. Until, almost like deja vu you get another dreaded phone call. Your mother overdose on her pills. She’s in the hospital. She needs you. It is like you are back in college. Like your mother has you like a puppet on strings that she tugs when she thinks you’ve been happy for too long. This time is different. You are not returning home this time. You are not giving up the life you are finally building for yourself. You tell her in no uncertain terms that you will be sending money each month to your brother, he will use it to take care of the family as he sees fit. Your mother will not get direct access to it. Unless she once and for all gets better, does better, actions speak louder than words. When you hang up that phone you feel like a puppet who cut its strings. And you feel good.

You broke the water’s surface and finally draw breath

You spend a year with your feeder buddy before you become an official feeder. The first vampire who employs you is for the most part nice and that’s it. Neither of you try to become friends and that is fine for you. Few years with them then you are employed by a different vampire, your current employer. They’re different. They talk to you before they feed, sometimes even chat afterwards. At first you are guarded however they have a knack for wearing you down. You’re not the biggest fan of your job but the money is nothing to sneeze at and your employer doesn’t care that you send all your earnings back home. You don’t have a use for such luxury. Life is good, you are content.

Your mark appears and the water begins to ripple

———

Other Info

Has a 3 year old blue nose pitbull named Maggie that tends to be at her side at all hours of the day. Cassandra loves her and doesn’t think she would have gotten through the past couple of years without her. (image)

She is bisexual, leans towards men/masculine presenting people.

Is a Self Defense Instructor at a local gym. However due to also being a feeder she just gives verbal instructions while using her coworkers as visual aids.

Speaks English and German fluently. Does have a basic understanding of ASL. Currently learning Spanish.

Does not take cheating well at all. If she is in a relationship with someone or with two others then she expects it to be exclusive. She does not share.

———

Wanted Connections

Cassandra’s Current Vampire Employer: either gender or non-gender. She has been a feeder since turning twenty-six and they would be her current vampire employer, possibly only been feeding from her for at most five years or so. They have a not quite friend but not strictly business relationship. They would know that Cassandra sends all the money she earns to her parent and siblings.

Cassandra’s friends: either new or old friends though she has a difficult time keeping up with her friends and isn’t proud that she sometimes leaves them on read. Has been trying her darndest to do better and do right by her friends, hanging out a lot more. 

———

species

Cassandra is a human through and through, she can’t imagine being anything else. Living forever or being stronger does not hold much appeal to her.

The potential that she is bonded to a different species is terrifying. But the idea of her being bonded to anyone is terrifying to her.

Vampires: she feels neutral about vampires as a whole. Her vampire employer isn’t too bad. However she is often warned by other feeders that most rogue vampires, and those of the Malkavian Clan are practically evil incarnate while they consider the Menesis Clan heroes. Cass knows that like humans even vampires are not black and white.

Witches: she does not hold much opinion on witches. To her they seem the closest to humans, if you just think of it from a mortality perspective. Each witch is vastly different from each other so most of her opinions are based on individuals.

———

soulmarks

Cassandra is terrified of being bonded to someone or someones. She does not want it to become another string to control her like her mother did. Or another Derek situation. If she can avoid it she will and is somewhat grateful the mark is in an easy to hide spot.

Getting her mark only recently Cassandra knows, at least assumes the person she’s bound to is a vampire. At least one of them is. She feels pulled in more than one direction.

She does not plan to let her mark disrupt her life. Hopefully. She is trying her best. Cassandra focuses on her two jobs and her dog.

[veiljumpernyssa]

How do you keep your motivation up for writing fan fiction? I am trying to write my first fan fiction for Tale of Genji and finding motivation is extremely difficult for me. I noticed you wrote 9 chapters for your dragon age fan fiction, how did you do it?

Hey! Thanks for the message. First things first -- motivation isn’t always kept up in this house. The timeframe between Chapter 8 and 9 of my fic is about 5 months 😅 but considering I was in the middle of a very strict lockdown last year due to COVID, I’m trying to give myself a break.

Okay this is going to be long and I’m going to ramble about my own fic as an example too. Hopefully that’s okay and I can give some good tips.

Here are my tips for keeping up the momentum of a longfic:

1. Make a story outline. I know some people like to wing it, but I have ADHD and require structure and medication to function, so that just doesn’t work for me unless it’s a drabble, and even then, I still do a loose outline.

I find it most helpful to start with a broad overview of what kind of story you want to tell, or the purpose of the story. Do you want to write a romance? Do you want to write characters going on an adventure? Do you want to develop a specific character or OC?

For example, for Sulevin Ghilana Hanin (the Dragon Age fic you mentioned, excuse me while I plug it) I want to cover the time Nyssa spent with the Inquisition and the role zie played in certain events during 9:40 - 9:42, as well as set hir up for where zie’s at for Dragon Age 4. Within that timeframe I wanted to develop hir character and examine hir complex relationships with Solas, hir clan and Fenris, writing a follow-up to the previous fic, By Any Other Name. So it’s sort of a blend of romance and slice of life, with some intrigue. We all know who and what Solas is now, but I want to delve into what zie thinks of him and what he thinks of hir. It will be relevant when DA4 rolls around, so I’m setting the stage using what info we know now to develop hir further when we learn more.

I assume you know the basics like how to construct a basic plot or w/e. Once you have a loose idea of the beginning, middle and end, you can break it down chapter by chapter.

One thing to keep in mind is while it’s good to have a story outline IMO you don’t have to go nuts with overplanning every chapter down to the detail. My own chapter plans range from a detailed point by point list of events (Chapter 8, Red Letter Redoubt) to a loose general idea (Chapter 5, Tarasyl’an Te’las) to literally one sentence (Chapter 4, All New, Faded For Her).

It also helps to figure out the purpose of the scene or chapter, especially if you’re writing a character development fic, or an intrigue/mystery. For example, some chapters I’ve written have just been slice-of-life or filler, where I’ve written about Nyssa settling in to Skyhold and getting to know hir new associates. Other chapters have been specific events that I write for foreshadowing or development for Nyssa. Sometimes it’s hir learning about hirself; sometimes it’s hir being challenged specifically.

I feel like this is really important to keep momentum. If you know where the story is going, all you have to do is write it to get there.

2. Write longhand. Obviously you don’t have to if you can’t or don’t want to write with a pen and paper, but this is personally what I do cause unless I’m editing an existing chapter, I can’t focus on it. Writing longhand always helps me get my thoughts down.

3. Set up a designated writing space. If you’re at home, maybe you can set up a desk or a nook or w/e. I personally don’t tend to write much at home and prefer to go out.

The last year or so, I’ve been going to a local park and writing in the fresh air, and it’s been good for inspiration. Prior to that I also went to cafes and sat. I could spend a few hours and bang out a few pages. If you go though, at least buy a drink every hour. Don’t be that guy.

Wherever you are, make sure there’s no distractions, or you have headphones with music or ambient noise (I like Rainy Mood as it helps me focus). Have some water and maybe some snacks, but also make sure to take breaks and stretch. Wrist exercises are important if you’re writing longhand.

4. Be kind to yourself. If you don’t get the writing you want done in one or two days, don’t feel bad. The world is in a very bad state right now and I feel like collectively our mental health is at an all-time low. It’s okay if you don’t write as much as you want in a day or a week or even a month. Hell, I literally just went 5 months without updating, and I struggle with my brain every day. My brain tells me that nobody cares about my characters or my writing (or art etc) and that I may as well not bother. Sometimes I listen. Other times I say ‘fuck you brain’ and do it anyway.

Hope this helps! Good luck on your fic!

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Across Seven Seas

Chapter 3

Description: This fanfiction series is set in the year 2022, after the horrid COVID-19 has finally come to an end. In this fanfiction, Chris Evans holidays with his family in India and meets Meera Shankar. The story explores their rollercoaster journey and raises a question, whether two people, from two contrasting backgrounds and cultures, can build their future together?

This series is Chris Evans x OFC with Chris Evans' family and friends having recurring appearances. Please find below a lot of Original Characters-

Meera Shankar - The female lead

Meera's Mother

Poppy - Meera's maternal grandmother

Rohan - Meera's elder brother who is 6 years older than her.

Ankur - Concierge of the Hotel Maple-Fawn in Mussoorie

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2

Chapter 4

FIND MORE CHAPTERS BY CLICKING ON MY BIO

P.S- India follows only one timezone.

P.P.S- All the photographs used in the chapters are of the real locations mentioned. I clicked these photographs on my vacation.

This is a work of fiction. The names of the hotels and companies have been changed to avoid copyright issues. Meera Shankar and her family is based on the author and her kin. No offense is intended.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Chapter 3

6th September, 7:30am - Dehradun Hotel, India

Meera barely noticed the morning chatter at the breakfast table, the voices becoming dull thuds in her mind. As she dozed off for the tenth time, her mother snapped. "You just woke up Meera! How can you still be sleepy? People in the mornings are usually active, bright-eyed and alert! Yet here you are going back to sleep." "Who said I slept last night?" spoke Meera, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her yawn, "With you and Poppy snoring into my ears, I could hardly sleep." "We don't snore that bad," said her mother, defensively. "Have you ever hear... (yawn) Have you ever even heard yourself snore?" replied a sleepy Meera. "I slept peacefully in my room. Just like a baby," Rohan chimed in with a smug smile. Her sleep deprived brain could not think of a clever repertoire. At least she would fall asleep on the ride to Mussoorie, hopefully avoiding the nasty motion sickness.

6th September, 9:15am - Delhi, India

🎶tring, tring, tring, tring🎶

Chris heard the faint chime of the landline in his room. Struggling to find it in the darkness, Chris finally answered the call. The receptionist on the other end of the line was kind. She patiently reminded him about the wake-up call that had been scheduled by him and informed him about the buffet breakfast. The Evans family had reached the fancy hotel in the wee hours of the morning. It had been a relief to exit the Delhi airport sans the company of the media. Jet-lagged and exhausted, they had all collapsed into their beds. Even Chris had fallen asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow. He now stretched on the bed, missing the warmth of his adorable canine. He knew the best way to deal with jet-lag was to condition your body to the local timezone. After freshening up, he headed towards the buffet, seeking to eat his breakfast in peace.

As there were no direct flights from Boston to Dehradun, they had decided to stay for a day in Delhi, just to rest their bones. Tomorrow, they would catch the flight to Dehradun. As Chris understood, their hotel in Mussoorie was around 6 hours away from Dehradun airport. He did not look forward to the excessive travel. He knew they would all be tired out for a week before they started feeling normal again.

He was soon joined by his family for breakfast. A large family of 7 Americans was not an unusual sight for the patrons of this hotel. Being one of the most luxurious and expensive hotels in the city, tourists from across the world flocked to the 5-star property. The best part? Nobody recognized them, especially Chris. While Chris did have a huge fan following in India, he was not immediately recognisable with his large beard and overgrown hair.

"Do we have anything planned for today?" Chris confirmed with Carly as she demolished her pancakes, "Not really. The hotel did offer a tour of the local tourist hotspots, but I didn't think anyone would be up for a day out." "Especially in this heat," chimed in Shanna. "From what I Google searched, Delhi has beautiful forts and structures. There are even expansive gardens in the city! Maybe we can visit just one site before leaving tomorrow?" suggested their mother Lisa. "I will check with the concierge and see what they recommend," offered Scott.

Chris settled back in his room after the breakfast, checking-in with Tara about Dodger. He dozed off while waiting for a reply.

Same day, 11:40pm - Dehradun-Mussoorie road

Meera woke up with a jerk as the car pulled around a corner, her heart beating fast. They were on the last portion of the winding roads, almost at the top of the hill. Dazed, she looked around the SUV, her mother and brother were wide awake and Poppy had nodded off. From the window, Meera saw the mountains and trees in all their glory, but the motion of the car lulled her exhausted mind back to sleep.

Almost 20 minutes later, she woke up again as her mother gently taped her on the shoulder. "We have reached," she quietly said, "Are you feeling okay?" Blinking her eyes, Meera managed to say yes. Chilly breeze greeted her as she opened the door of the car. Audibly shuddering, she shut the door, reluctant to leave the warm vehicle. Her brother pulled it open again, "Wake up sleepy head! Look how beautiful it is!" "It is COLD," replied Meera hoarsely, still struggling to find her bearings. "Okay look, it is just 10 steps from the car to the hotel's entrance. Just 10 steps! Then you will be in nice toasty-warm lobby. Let's go! The hills are calling us! Let's go let's go!!" Meera smiled at her brother's exuberance. Mountains had the same effect on him that beaches had on her. Bracing herself for the cold, Meera dashed from the car and into the hotel.

Maple-Fawn was one of the few 5-star hotels in Mussoorie. The international company had a chain of hotels in the country, but their property at this hill-station had been voted as one of the bests. The lobby section was intimidating to say the least. White marble flooring, polished wood-panelled walls, and elegant paintings and statues gave a sophisticated, warm vibe. As the family was checking-in, the male concierge asked for Meera, "Welcome to Maple-Fawn everyone. Do we have a Mrs Meera Shankar amongst us?" "It is Ms Meera Shankar, and that would be me," she replied. "Hello ma'am. I am Ankur, the resident concierge of this property. As I am led to believe, you are the one with the food allergies, correct?" "Yes absolutely." "We received your email ma'am, the one with the list of foods you are allergic to, and a couple of recipes which would suit you. Can we discuss it once you are settled-in?" "Oh right yes. How about we meet again after one hour?" "Sure ma'am. I will meet you with the chef in your room," confirmed Ankur.

The receptionist handed them the key cards to their rooms. "As I can see in the system, you have booked two rooms, with the 3 women living in one room and Mr Rohan living in another. Would you like to have a single bed mattress in your room ma'am? It would be more comfortable," suggested the receptionist. As her mother refused after hearing the cost for the extra mattress, Meera had to chuckle. Even the receptionist must have wondered how will 3 fat women fit on a queen-sized bed, she thought.

"Why should we spend so much money on a mattress when we call all sleep together on the same bed?" argued Meera's mother as they reached their rooms, "We have already spent so much on this expensive hotel, I am certainly not paying for anything extra." Meera's face fell as she heard those words. It had been difficult to find a hotel which would cater to her food allergies. While various brands offered food for people who were strictly vegetarian or vegan, the hotel staff, usually the chefs, could never wrap their minds around how could a person be allergic to so many things. Luckily, Maple-Fawn had been accommodating, but being on the upper-end luxurious side of things, the stay at the hotel itself had costed them around 4 months of Rohan's salary. "I will get to snuggle-up to my daughter on the same bed and sleep. I can't wait!" continued Meera's mother. "Creep," muttered Meera.

But despite herself, Meera had to admit, the view from their room was to die for...

Same day, 3pm - Delhi

Chris awoke to someone ringing the doorbell of his room. Stumbling across the room in the darkness, he opened the door to see Carly. "Hey Chris, we are going to Rori gardens, do you want to tag along?" "What? Which gardens?" "Rori, or something like that. I don't understand most of the names here," sheepishly admitted Carly. "Should I show you the brochure?" Nodding his reply, Chris stepped aside to let Carly in. "Oh God, it is dark in here, let there be light!" "No wait sto..." But before Chris could finish his sentence, Carly had opened the curtains, flooding the room with bright sunlight. "Aargh" Chris groaned at the sudden light, hidding under the covers on his bed. Laughing, Carly tried to pull the covers off of him, but Chris held on tight. "C'mon you big baby! You are worse than your niece and nephews! Even they are playing in the swimming pool and here you are, hiding underneath the covers!" "It's too bright! Turn down the sun!" Chris whined. "No way! Get up now! See this garden looks like fun. Don't stay held up in your room." Chris muttered something. "Christopher Evans, come out now or else I WILL tickle you!" Carly threatened. Uncovering his head, Chris opened one eye, "What do you want, you Kraken monster?!" Carly smiled, it had been too long since Chris had called her by the nickname. A change of location was maybe just what he needed afterall.

Chris met Carly, Scott and Lisa in the lobby, Shanna choosing to stay behind with the kids. Their hotel, Maple-Fawn, had provided them with a guide and comfortable cars. If Chris wasn't mistaken, they were going to stay at the brand's property in Mussoorie as well. "What is the name of the garden again?" Chris asked their Guide. "They are called Lodhi Gardens," came the prompt reply. "It is spread over 90 acres and contains some of the best landscaping seen here in Delhi. The garden is also home to tombs of various kings who had once ruled Delhi." "Oh so it's a graveyard," inquired Scott excitedly. Chris chucked at his brother's excitement. "Not at all sir," replied their Guide, "The garden is used as a park, where people jog, do yoga, exercise and kids play around. You will get an idea once we reach."

While the road to Lodhi Gardens had been full of traffic and commotion, the place itself was peaceful and serene. Tall trees surrounded the walkways, manicured green lawns with flower beds covered the uneven terrain, while the graves of the bygone kings were nothing like the Evans family had seen before. These were ancient structures, with delicate ornate carvings on the walls. "Woah," whispered Scott, "If these are their graves, then I can't even imagine how royal their palaces must have been!"

Chris caught himself smiling. As much as he willed himself not to feel happiness, he couldn't help but feel a little bit relaxed. Lodhi Gardens were beautiful.