#if I’m watching shows in English I sure as hell won’t be watching American ones that’s my line

[corpsentry]

there’s something so epic about hetero chinese period dramas and i think one part of it is that there is absolutely nowhere in the narrative i could exist.

lately i’ve been on a western media detox— i’ve cleaned english language music out of my playlists and have never been able to stomach western dramas anyway, so that part is easy— which might seem funny, because if i’m in singapore and i hate it and i won’t touch american music then what’s left? the answer is the false binarism of chinese period dramas, at least for me. the badly written ones are misogynistic and stupid and the better ones are less of those things, but regardless the world that emerges is clean-cut and easy to parse. there’s someone to root for and someone to hate. there’s a girl and a boy. there’s the comedy and the drama, the sheer thick drama, the music that signals to you precisely how to feel before the scene even starts going

try to jam a fifth culture transnational transgender they/them with 2 mental illness and 1 autoimmune disease into this world and it simply doesn’t work. and that’s kinda epic lolzers! it’s like watching high fantasy, or super hardcore sci-if. it both represents a simulacrum of the real world and is so far from the reality you know that you understand it as a hypothetical universe, one that disincludes you on principle. i exclude myself from the story and in doing so fangfei from moyuyunjian’s steely gaze becomes all the more important. i give so many shits and laugh and yell and spectate. but i am safe from the eyes of its inhabitants. if i entered the story it would break. so i sit outside of it, clapping by myself

in other news, we gave up on mysterious lotus casebook 16 episodes in. there are many character archetypes in these shows that i can no longer stand; the salacious sexy seductive supervillain lady is not necessarily one of them but the way they did miss ‘this man didn’t even Look at me when all men fall at my knees so i hated him’ ‘no one is allowed to steal buttchin from me’ jiao was way up there. surely a woman can have multiple personality traits and yet you would think from this drama that that is not at all true. and the strange harem that grew around li lianhua despite his absolute loser attitude— like i get it, he’s the gintoki of this show, that’s hot, but the way the women who were into him were written made me want to Eat Horse. it bothered me that di feisheng and lianhua’s homo as fuck dynamic was so intriguing and them + fang duobing was a winning trio but all the women in the show were written like complete fucking ass, and one of the big antagonists being a woman, the stakes throughout were not only lost to me but also Pissed Me Off. also, that case about the corpse flowers dragged on forever and all my pocky wilted

I Just Think, women deserve better in these damn stories. make them slutty as hell, sure, but make them other things too and i mean this in the most generous sense. slutty and proud. slutty and weird. slutty and oblivious. literally anything at all so they don’t come out cardboard flat from all angles. this is why i have a personal vendetta against the ditzy clueless female protagonist as well because if everything stems from the fact that she doesn’t know shit it’s like please someone Please tell her shit i’m on my hands and knees begging. give her more to chew on she’s dying of boredom over there

this is why i liked the so called antagonist of blossoms in adversity best (spoilers ahead). he was cruel as hell to huazhi and gu yanxi’s only parental figure. he was paranoid and selfish and lonely and craved a son’s love from the one person he couldn’t hold onto. in the end he is pushed further and further by huazhi, who won’t give in, to isolate yanxi from the people he loves and to lash out at those people as a way of punishing yanxi. and when he dies it’s because of his own distrust, his own negligent parenting, his absent cruelty from decades of insomnia and lack of faith in his people. but he cries for yanxi, and there’s something so human about that. to think of evil not as a first principle but rather an adjective for a verb that is set in motion by other events. to be honest, i haven’t seen such thoughtful writing in any chinese period drama before or after that and i strongly suspect i will never see such writing again in this genre but man, it was so fucking good (spoilers end).

in the meantime, i’ve dragged my mother to moyuyunjian/the double for the return casting of liu xiening and wang xingyue who are Eating so hard. they’ve got wang xingyue done up with the sluttiest makeup and liu xiening is breaking my heart with her pout and her Sassy Mean constitution and this is a revenge story, yes, but it’s a double revenge story. it’s a grief story. and fangfei is carrying more on her shoulders than lingbuyi imo, and doing so with much more grace too. her step mom’s a dick but she’s a smart, 5d chess playing dick who wears hot shades of green so i’m personally interested enough to keep watching (something lotus casebook DID NOT accomplish with their epic female antagonist…. mein gotte). and the princess too. unhinged as hell but god, so charismatic. and beautiful, with scary big eyes and the sweetest head tilt. fun fun fun! that’s fun character writing right there. the comedy might be too straightforward for my tastes but everything else is kind of hot and sexy And after the coming of age ceremony when jiangli appeared amidst the flowers i felt my throat close up even though we saw her for all of one (1) episode). i was like yes. they got me alright. i Care now

really that’s all that matters isn’t it. we want stories about people we care for. we want to give a shit. why else would we listen to the stories of other people. we are looking for us and the people we love in them

oh also moyuyunjian soundtrack goes hard as hell i love a little three step waltz. here’s a pic from the ‘gym’ for ur time. guten night

[6ebe]

Why is the line of duty theme song so good 😐

[amazingphilza]

study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some headcanons if the mcyts were trying to help you do hw :D

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

tommyinnit

i feel like he’s the type to be in a long discord call with you whilst you both try to finish your work

mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow

“y/n watch my stream on discord and help me guess the answers”

“tommy no! i haven’t even taken a film class before”

“your guess is good as mine”

“just cheat and google the answers!!!”

“fuck you”

he actually just wants your attention because he’s bored out of his mind doing homework

five minutes later of asking you to help him guess questions he’s like

“hey y/n”

“what now?”

“let’s play bedwars”

“oh my god shut up!!!”

if tommy has to speedrun something before a deadline, it is a whole different story tho; he will be so focused on completing that he won’t hear what you’re saying

if you’re struggling in math, you’re on your own

“math is shit, only numbers i need is my primes and youtube analytics” says tommy any time you complain about math

besides the fact he isn’t good at solving math problems, you can’t even read his handwriting if he did try showing you how to do a problem

“okay, y/n, it’s simple, just look” he says in his kareninnit voice and everything

you’d be like “is the variable a G or a 9??”

“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”

tubbo

i don’t know if tubbo ever talked about school before but something about him makes me think he’s actually pretty good at math

like he can explain a few things when it comes to math / algebra

CODING GO BRRRR

no geometry or calculus though, anything past algebra will go bad

if tubbo is doing homework with you, he will definitely tune you out

“hey tubbo can you help me on this question?”

you don’t get a response until like 20 minutes later

“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”

like now you answer? i just got the answer myself after so long, forget you smh

“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”

but you’re still grumbling in your head because if he answered just a bit earlier you wouldn’t have gone through the work of finding the answer online

i can also imagine if you’re taking chemistry tubbo is like ;

“oh you’re taking chemistry? let’s make some bombs!” /lh

tubbo would definitely pull an all-nighter with you to finish your projects together

if you had a group project, he would make you do the writing part while he does the drawing part

“we definitely aced this project”

“of course we did, if i made you draw we would’ve ended up with stick figure diagrams”

“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”

ranboo

okay i know ranboo said he isn’t a theatre or band kid (unless im wrong and forgetful) but i feel like he’d be somewhat educated in the topics nonetheless

half the time he’s great moral support, helping you stay motivated !

the other half is him making fun of you

“i cant believe you’re failing, that is so sad, can’t be me”

“it’s literally an honors class, ranboo! it’s supposed to be hard!!”

“taking an honors class willingly? also cant be me AHAHA”

i honestly can’t see ranboo going to school like i know he’s a minor and said he had zoom calls before and plays volleyball but like did i miss something? has he dropped out yet? like something about ranboo does not scream “student” /lh

besides that, i’m not sure what subject he would actually be good in,,, but something about nutrition/health sciences,, he knows a few things

don’t get me wrong, i don’t think he actually likes the subject but somehow remembers what he learned from the class

also gives me the type of energy of the type of person to take a first aid class to be a certified person to do cpr on someone just to kill time during his lunch breaks for a while or something

“i am a certified cpr person”

“my life in ranboo’s hands? oh god please no”

you two would probably joke about the ‘bad’ people in your classes or talk shit about your schools than actually doing anything homework related ngl AHAHAH

“you think your school is down bad? mine went back to campus full time after like 6 months into quarantine because they were running out of money”

“what the hell y/n? your school is a scam, drop out”

“arghhhh i knowww”

“i bet i make more money than your teachers combined AHAHAH”

wilbur soot

he doesn’t seem like the best person to ask for help for homework but can info dump you on very specific historical events + a bit of geography

i kinda see him as the person you can ask to proof read an essay for you and would help it improve immensely

who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?

i dunno if it’s an american thing only or at all, but if/when you get to studying hamilton in your english class, he will get so fucking excited

“no wilbur it isn’t fun! imagine listening to lin-manuel miranda rap ‘alexander hamilton’ at the white house from like 2009 on repeat for over an hour whilst trying to write an analysis about it!! it was so distracting”

“well clearly someone has a personal problem with mr lin-manuel. if i were you, i’d be singing the whole thing”

is this last bit personal and complete spite from my freshman year english class? yes. i do not care? no. /hj

unrelated but i actually scribbled nice guy ballad lyrics and other songs on my english scratch papers in freshman year but anyway

probably isn’t the best person to be in a call to do homework with but wilbur doesn’t mind you ringing him occasionally sometimes

i dunno i can just see him easily get bored of the silence or something but also doesn’t want to bother you too much

but he is genuinely proud of you whenever you tell him you aced a big test you were studying for :D

philza

this man’s bad advice is as bad as him trying to help you on any subject

he’s an old man so /hj

but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school

if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,

statistics things ! sobs

if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard

“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”

“do not drop out”

“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”

honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D

like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”

expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .

technoblade

like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!

def knows a decent bit of literature too

besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful

even if he was supposed to be an english major

he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things

“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”

“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”

“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”

“that isn’t how it works—”

“bruhhh”

if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh

it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno

he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have

if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich

“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”

“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”

“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”

“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”

“you’re the worst”

then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him

[rollflasher]

Another Sonic ramble

So once again I’m here with one of my rambles about my incredibly subjective view of how the Sonic series should be handled! *Beat*

...anyway.

So, one of the more recurring opinions on the fandom is that Sonic games should be written by Ian Flynn, I have talked before about the gripes I have with his writing and why I disagree with this but this post is not entirely about him, but rather a more general topic that has been bugging me for a long time.

The other day I was watching a video speculating about the upcoming Sonic Rangers, there’s not much to write home since it was pretty well made but there’s a particular part that inspired me to do this post and talk about it with other fans to discuss it.

See, at one point the video critisized the fact that Sonic Forces was written by a Japanese writer because they have to re-write the script in English and that can cause problems with localization, and that it would be better to have western writers from the get-go since Sonic’s main demographic comes from there, while making an off-hand suggestion that Ian Flynn could be a main choice. While I can see where they’re coming from, my response was a simple:

‘‘Absolutely, not’‘

See, I have a lot of issues with this to put it bluntly and I’ll try to break them down and explain them the best I can since they’re pretty subjective in nature, but I’m bringing this up because I want you guys to share your thoughts as well.

So, why does it bug me so much the idea of Sonic being handled by western creators?

In my case, the main reasons are because Sonic loses a core part of it’s appeal because of this, the fact that SEGA of Japan seems to have a better grasp of the franchise’s tone and characters and there’s the very subjective point that, in my eyes, American versions of Japanese franchises were always nothing more than dumbed down products of the source material.

To start with my first point, whenever someone talks about Sonic’s creation, a lot of people are quick to point out that our favorite blue hedgehog and his games were inspired by western pop culture and cartoons, and that is true, however oftenly they forget to mention a core thing that not only inspired, but also formed part of the core identity of this franchise.

Sonic is very inspired on anime, and at heart this franchise is a shonen.

(This image by The Great Lange expresses more clearly what I mean)

Generally, the most acknowledgement anime gets on it’s hand on Sonic is the mentions of Sonic being inspired by Dragon Ball, particularly the Super Saiyan, but there’s so much more than that, as Sonic blatantly takes inspiration from Studio Ghibli films specially in games like Sonic 3, which draws a lot of inspiration from Laputa: Castle in the Sky, this great post shows proof that this is not a coincidence.

And it doesn’t stop there, Shiro Maekawa himself has stated that SA2′s story (and in particular, the characters of Shadow and Maria) draw a lot of inspiration from the manga Please Save My Earth.

Even Sonic’s character design resembles shonen protagonists moreso than the main characters of silent cartoons, don’t believe me?

Sure, Sonic has a cartoony anatomy, no one can deny that, but he also exhibits a lot of traits from shonen characters such as spiky hair/quills (?), dynamic posing, a confident, courageous and energetic personality and most importantly, fighting spirit.

If you compare Sonic’s personality and more specifically, his abilities and moves to, say, cartoon speedy characters like the Road Runner, there’s a pretty big disconnection between him and western cartoon characters. Hell, this disconnection is even just as present if you compare him with a character like The Flash from DC.

Simply put, Sonic acts, moves and more importantly, fights like a shonen anime character. He doesn’t just go Super Saiyan and that’s it. Here’s even a quick comparison if necessary.

And this is important because this doesn’t apply just to him, but the whole franchise as a whole and when it takes a more western approach, all of these details are kinda lost or more downplayed, of course this depends on the artists and there’s YMMV at hand, but I think my point is clear.

My second point is...SoJ has consistently proven they have a much clearer grasp on how Sonic’s world and characters are compared to SoA.

Hear me out, yes, Sonic 06 and ShtH exist and yes, SoJ is not perfect by any means. But hear me out...when did the characters start to get flanderized and turned into parodies of themselves? In the 2010s...and when did SEGA move from Japanese to western writers in the games?

Of course it was more then that since there’s a whole tone shift that came with this decade and the new writers, but it’s not a coincidence that when writing in Sonic started to decay, western writers also happened to get on board with the games.

Besides that, SoA has a wide history of not getting Sonic’s tone and characters, from how they made media without much of Sonic Team’s input, to altering how characters are seen in the west. (Such as how they amped up Sonic’s attitude in their media or how the English scripts of the games featured things like Sonic seemingly barely tolerating Amy while the JP scripts portrayed this as Sonic just not understanding girls all that well instead, or for more recent examples, the addition of the ‘’torture’’ line in Forces). Not only that, but even ignoring obvious infamous writers like Ken Penders, even the ‘’best’’ writers from the western side of Sonic are still not above of giving us Pontaff-esque gems.

Like this one.

Or alternatively, I feel like sometimes western writers on Sonic rely a bit too much on their personal vision about Sonic which may or may not be a good thing, clear examples of this are Ian Flynn himself and Pontaff.

By contrast, while SoJ has it’s own share of notorious inconsistencies when dealing with writing (The 2000s era is a big offender), it seems that for them Sonic hasn’t changed much and this is visible not only on the JP scripts of the Modern games which are for the most part better than the ENG ones, but also things like the Sonic Channel comics and the recent one-shots they made with Sonic interacting with the cast show that for all intents and purposes, the Japanese’s staff vision of Sonic is much more clear and consistent compared to the west. Because of this, I’d rather have a good Japanese writer on Sonic games with the localization being focused on being faithful with the original script than have a more western writers dramatically changing the characters. (I don’t mention the tone since either way, SEGA is the one in charge of that and the writers have to follow that)

My last and very subjective point is that, at least for me, everything SoA does with Sonic involving the writing and canon feels like a dumbed down version of the source material. One of the reasons it bugs me so much that in the latest decade Sonic has taken a more western direction is because a lot of what I pointed out gets lost as a result, even if some of those elements are still there, you can tell they’re more downplayed with products like the Tyson Hesse shorts having a more predominant cartoon direction. If any of you have been following my blog for a long time, you should be aware that just because I prefer the Japanese Sonic content doesn’t mean I won’t give the western products a chance, my enjoyment for Mania, the Tyson Hesse shorts and the movie should be a testament of that, but at the same time I can’t help but being sour about the fact that because of these products, we don’t have stuff like a new anime for Sonic or even a serialized ‘’main’’ manga as an alternative for the comics, and my hype for these products is generally more subdued as a result since I’d wish SEGA rather spent that money and resources on more Japanese content than just merchandise.

In particular, because Sonic is a Japanese franchise with a notorious inspiration from anime, what I get from this is a pretty big contradiction. I know Sonic is much more popular on the west but...is it really necessary for his game or products to be handled by western creators to keep their appeal?

For instance, imagine if Dragon Ball’s manga and anime got replaced by western comics and animated series because of it’s world-wide appeal, would that really be the same?

Or imagine the same thing with Fullmetal Alchemist, a pretty aclaimed anime that has a lot of western influence. Would it really not matter at all if it’s Japanese products were replaced with western ones?

At least for me, it wouldn’t.

And what I said about American versions of Japanese franchises being nothing more than watered down versions of the source material? I have that view because of countless examples.

Mega Man and how the English manuals removed a lot of important information about the story of the Blue Bomber’s game and world, causing a lot of plot holes in the process.

American remakes like Godzilla 1998 or Dragon Ball Evolution being an in-name only version of the source material.

Or the many censored anime English dubs from the 2000s, for instance, whenever I see the Yu-Gi-Oh! dubs, I only see a very dumbed down and childish version of a show that was originally a shonen.

And I know that all of these things don’t have to necessarely get lost since every creator is different and there’s franchises like Avatar which are made on the west but draw a lot of inspiration from anime and I’m aware of that, and I want to make it clear that I’m not trying to say that American writers are not allowed to work on Sonic, what I’m trying to say is that inevitably there’s always gonna be some culture dissonance and clash when writers from another culture handle a foreign franchise. And even with examples like ATLA, I think being made by one culture while being inspired by the other is actually a big part of these franchises appeal and it’s something that can’t simply be replicated by handing it to creators from that specific culture they draw inspiration from.

I think James Rolfe’s quote about the same thing with the Godzilla franchise sums up how I feel about this.

‘‘It’s like champagne, anybody can make their own and call it champagne, but unless it’s from Champagne France, it’s not real champagne’‘

So, this last part was very subjective, but I think this post in general sums up why I dislike so much the idea of Sonic having western writers specifically in the games or just focusing more on that side in general.

But what do you guys think? I guess I am too biased so that’s why I wanted to ask for opinions and discuss this topic.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

fought on your side long before you were born

Fandom: Kamen Rider, Batman, Kamen Rider W Characters: Hongo Takeshi, Tachibana Tobei, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Hidari Shoutaro, Philip, Damian Wayne Song: "Father to Son," Queen (playlist here)

1977

Tachibana’s got a shop now, something he can use to support his family now that he isn’t traveling, and the first thing that greets Takeshi as he walks in is the thick smell of motor oil. There’s a bike in pieces at one end of the shop floor around which several young men are clustered, arguing cheerfully. Another young man is sitting in a corner near them, inexplicably playing acoustic guitar and responding briefly whenever he’s addressed. It’s new, but it feels like home, and Takeshi can feel his shoulders instinctively relaxing.

“Hongo!” Tachibana himself emerges from the shop office, beaming. “When’d you get back to Japan?”

“Just now, I came right here.”

“Damn right you did.” There’s some hugging and back-slapping and general affectionate ribbing, and then Tachibana says, “So what do you think? Nice place, right?”

“It’s wonderful. How’s your son?”

“Healthy as a horse, running me and Mari ragged.” Tachibana gestures to the huddle of young men at the other end of the room. “Plenty of help around here, though.”

Takeshi grins. “I can see that. Who’s the one with the guitar?”

“Oh, him? American kid. Funny story, really, I’m closing up one day when this young guy just materializes—no, not literally, he’s just real quiet—and asks, am I Tachibana Tobei? Only Dr. Jin in Madrid says I’m the best in the world and will I teach him about motorcycles! And he hands me a letter of introduction from Keisuke!” Tachibana sounds like he’s holding back laughter. “So he’s renting our spare room at the house and working here for a few months. Quick study, too. Shiro taught him guitar, he’s in town for a bit and they hit it off. Here, come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

They head over to the disassembled motorcycle, and the young men fall all over themselves to be introduced, which Takeshi bears with good cheer. They’re young, of course they’re enthusiasts.

The American boy is last, and Takeshi is shocked to realize that he is a boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen, a pale youth with blue eyes and a lonely look that reminds Takeshi of Shiro. No wonder they get along. He sets his guitar aside and bows, stiff and solemn, and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hongo. Mr. Tachibana talks about you a lot.”

“That I do! Hongo, this is Bruce Wayne, he’s the summer guest I was telling you about.”

“Good to meet you, Wayne. Your accent is excellent.” The boy’s got a firm handshake. “What brings you to Japan?”

“Study, sir,” but the boy’s tone says that’s not all of it. “I’m trying to learn all I can. Maybe I could ask you a few things later, if you don’t mind.”

Takeshi blinks. “Not sure what you’d want to ask, but I don’t see why not.”

--

He eats dinner at Tachibana’s house that evening, because of course Tachibana isn’t going to let him get away unfed his first night back in town. Mari greets him at the door, Joji in her arms, beaming.

He’s intially surprised to see that the American boy is there too, until he remembers, of course he is—Wayne’s renting the spare room. And he’s barely noticeable for most of the meal, silent, although he’s clearly listening to everything that’s said. After dinner he also helps Mari with the dishes, entirely unprompted, which Takeshi approves of, and then spends some time gently entertaining the toddler.

Later, Tachibana and Mari step away for a moment to get their son to bed, and Takeshi looks at the silent young man sitting in the corner and says, “So. Wayne.”

“Yes, Mr. Hongo?”

“You said you had something you wanted to ask me, and we’ve got a few minutes now. What can I help you with?”

Wayne remains quiet for a long moment, and then fixes those piercing eyes on Takeshi and says, “Mr. Tachibana says you’re the strongest person he knows. What does it mean to be strong?”

Not what Takeshi had been expecting. Granted, what he wasexpecting, he doesn’t know, but…not that. He thinks about it, frowning. “I’d say…kindness.”

Wayne’s forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“Look, Wayne, you can get as powerful as you want in life, but it’s only strength if you can use it to be kind. Otherwise it’s just tyranny.” Takeshi leans forward and holds out his hand, as if to shake. “Anyone, any fool on Earth can take their hand and make it into a fist. To reach out to someone when they need help, that’s strength.”

Slow nodding, and Wayne reaches out to him in return, clasps his hand for a brief moment, and says, “Thank you. That’s a valuable insight.”

Takeshi nods. “Ask Tachibana that question, too, and Shiro. It’s a good thing to ask. Tells you a lot about the person answering.” He considers it for a moment. “Of course, there will always be some people you won’t be able to help, we share this world with monsters. But you must always try to be kind. That’s strength.”

--

2017

Bruce checks his watch as he walks up to the restaurant, satisfied to be a precise fifteen minutes early, and then looks up and is surprised to realize that for once Dick’s beaten him there. Not only is he there, too, he’s talking to someone Bruce doesn’t recognize.

The stranger seems to be about Dick’s own age, a man in a black fedora and slightly old-fashioned dress clothes from a minor Japanese fashion label. His tone suggests an awkward tourist, but his stance says he’s a fighter, and the way he watches his surroundings indicates that he’s memorizing as many details as possible. He’s got a guidebook in one hand, and a notebook sticking out of his pocket, and he’s speaking Japanese, which is not one of Dick’s stronger languages. Bruce steps forward, thinking he might need to translate, but Dick replies to the other man in English, which is met with a thoughtful nod. So—they’re about the same level in each other’s languages. Better at hearing than speaking. Convenient for them.

“—so if you’re looking for something in his field, the natural history museum is great. If you want somewhere more romantic,though, the Thorndike is amazing, and there’s this restaurant right near it, I forget the name—oh, hey, Bruce! You’re here! What’s the name of that restaurant across the street from the Thorndike Museum?”

“San Sebastian Jatetxe.”

“That’s the one! Thank you!” Dick beams at him, then turns to his companion. “I’ll write it down for you.”

“<Thank you, I’d appreciate that.>”

“Of course! This is my foster father, by the way, Shoutaro-san.Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Shoutaro Hidari, he’s visting Gotham for a couple of weeks.” To Shoutaro again, “Bruce’s Japanese is much better than mine.”

Bruce nods. “<What brings you to Gotham, Mr. Hidari?>”

Shoutaro relaxes visibly at the question; it’s likely the only new voice he’s heard speaking his mother tongue in days. “<My partner is attending a conference here, so we decided we’d make it a vacation.>”

“<Aha. Curators and archivists?>”

“<How did you guess?>”

“<A friend of Dick’s and mine is also attending, she mentioned that international registrations are up significantly this year.>” Bruce pauses. “<If you’re looking for date spots, the Thorndike is excellent, as Dick said, but the Botanical Gardens are also very nice this time of year.>”

Shoutaro blushes warmly. “<Thank you very much for the recommendation.>”

--

He doesn’t think much more about Dick’s tourist friend until that night, when he and Damian are out on patrol. It’s a quiet night, so they’re stopping a mugging as gently as possible when the mugger—a repeat offender and sometime informant, Bruce makes a note to check in on him at home out of suit—says, “So, uh, Bats. Who’s the new guy?”

Bruce frowns. No one new should be operating here.“Which one?”

“You know, the bug guy. My buddy texted about him, said he was speaking some other language. Well, he said it was a bug ninja who spoke Japanese, but he watches a lotta anime and he gets real excited, so I ain’t sure he’s right.”

“A bug. What color?”

“Oh, it changes, it’s cool as hell.” He shows Bruce and Damian a picture on his phone. “He a friend’a yours?”

“Yes. He’s visiting.” Bruce peers at the photo and then hands his informant two hundred dollars. “Buy dinner and go home, Nathan. Tell your aunt I say hello.”

“Yo, sure thing. Thanks, Bats!”

They’ve only been searching a few minutes when their earpieces crackle and Babs says, “Roof of GPL Central Branch. Someone I don’t recognize, they just took out some Joker goons who were robbing a jewelry store at the corner of High and 26th. Dick’s on his way too.”

They touch down at one end of the Gotham Public Library’s roof as Dick’s landing at the other and survey their guest, who’s looking between the three of them with something that’s likely surprise, although given that their face is entirely concealed it’s not certain. The insectoid red eyes and sharp antennae on the helmet and the white scarf drifting in the air from the back of the right shoulder send a shock of recognition down Bruce’s spine. He considers speaking first, but then nods to Dick instead. For better or for worse, Dick is good at putting people at ease.

“Hi there.” Dick waves to the stranger, tone cheery but guarded. “We haven’t seen you around before, mind telling us what you’re doing in Gotham?”

The stranger cocks their head to the left for a moment before saying, haltingly, “We. Ah. We are…tourists? We did not mean to…um…” The left eye of the helmet flashes as they’re speaking. A beat, and then the righteye begins to flash, and they say, in an entirely different voice that’s noticeably accented but much more fluent, “I’ll handle this part if you don’t mind, partner. Good evening, we’re Kamen Rider W. Our apologies, we didn’t mean to intrude on your territory. Are we addressing the famed Batman and his companions?”

Bruce says, slowly, “That’s correct. You’re a Rider?”

“Oh, you’re familiar with the term! That’s wonderful. Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been in operation as such since late 2008, although of course primarily in Japan.”

“Tt.” Damian scowls. “<If you mostly work in Japan, what are you doing running around here?>”

The left eye on the helmet begins to flash again as W responds in the first voice, in Japanese now. “<It wasn’t exactly the plan, a man in clown makeup waved a gun at me and tried to take my wallet and once I’d knocked him out I noticed that there were about five more clowns breaking into a jewelry store down the street. I couldn’t just leave them to it.>”

Dick is also frowning now. “I—have we met before? I recognize your voice. The, uh, left-hand one.”

“<I don’t think so?>” says the left-hand voice, and then the right-hand one breaks in with, “Actually, based on his memory of your speech patterns, I believe you and my partner met earlier today, you recommended a couple of date locations and a Basque restaurant I’m eager to visit.”

Bruce can see Dick’s eyes going wide from halfway across the roof. He’s visibly biting back the urge to address their guest by name, which would be discourteous, to say the least, with everyone in costume, so Bruce cuts in with, “Is my understanding correct that we’re speaking to two people currently?”

“That’s correct!” says the right-hand voice, sounding delighted. “We two are a single Kamen Rider.”

Dick blinks. “Is this like a Firestorm thing? Are you fused?”

“Not unlike, but no. My physical body is currently unconscious in our hotel room, which is certainly much more comfortable than some of the other places in which I’ve passed out. Although as my partner wasoriginally going out to get us something to eat when he was accosted, I ambecoming concerned about my caloric intake.” And the left-hand voice says, “<Yeah, I was thinking I’d be able to get us something decent at the Seven-Eleven, but the ones here are different from the ones at home.>”

“I think,” Bruce says, “this conversation would be better continued elsewhere.”

--

Twenty minutes later they’re all out of suit and seated around a table at an all-night diner, and Shoutaro’s partner, introduced only as Philip, is inspecting the menu with interest. “This is intimidatingly lengthy, do you have recommendations?”

Dick grins. “Get one of the meat-lovers omelettes. And then if you still have room get some baklava, the owner’s mother makes it and it’s amazing.”

Bruce, meanwhile, is turning Shoutaro’s business card over in his hands. “<You’re a detective?>”

“<I am! Mostly lost pets and infidelity, but sometimes there’s an interesting case. Philip works with me, although he’s pretty busy with the museum nowadays.>”

“<I’ve heard of the Fuuto Museum, they hosted an intriguing exhibit on Mesopotamian artifacts last year.>”

“<You heard about Nitoh’s exhibit here? That’s amazing, I’ll have to let him know.>”

“<Please tell him I was very impressed with his thesis.>”

Damian’s been scowling silently into his milkshake, but suddenly he slaps the table and everyone jumps. “I knew I recognized that name!” Then, to Shoutaro, “<I read your novel.>”

“<I—you did? Really? It hasn’t had any translations, how did you hear about it?>”

“<My, uh.>” Damian shifts awkwardly. “<My mother gave it to me, I like detective stories. I enjoyed it. Although that copy was lost.>”

“<Oh, I’ll send you a new one if you like, I don’t imagine it’d be easy to get here.>”

The waitress comes by, and her eyebrows slowly rise as everyone orders, presumably at the quantity of food on request. When she’s left again, Philip turns to Bruce and says, brightly, “I also take it that you’re the sponsor Ms. Gordon mentioned, we had a very stimulating chat at the conference earlier today.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that you met her.”

“Coincidence and fate figure largely in our lives, Mr. Wayne.” Philip smiles like a cat; it’s oddly charming. “We’re superheroes, after all. Here,” to Damian, “Dick mentioned to me that you like animals, would you like to see a picture of my cat? He used to be a supervillain.”

After they consume a truly astonishing amount of diner food it’s time to part ways, and Bruce shakes hands with Shoutaro and Philip and says, “<It was good to meet you both.>”

Philip beams. “<Likewise, thank you, it’s been a pleasure. And I’m looking forward to seeing more of Gotham.>”

Shoutaro looks up at him for a moment. “<It’s been good talking to you, Mr. Wayne. You…remind me of someone I used to know.>”

“<I could say the same of the two of you.>” Bruce turns to go, but then turns back. “<I have one last question for both of you.>”

They nod, precisely in sync, and Philip says, “<Yes?>”

“<What does it mean to be strong?>”

Silence for a moment, Shoutaro and Philip glancing at each other while Dick and Damian wait in puzzled silence, and then Shoutaro says, “<Kindness,>” and Philip says, “<Love.>” Another shared glance before Shoutaro continues. “<Anyone can hurt someone else. Helping them, that’s strength.>”

Bruce nods. “<Somehow that’s what I knew you’d say.>”

[yelena-bellova]

Fault Line: Prologue - Steve Rogers x F!Enhanced!Reader

Prologue - chapter one

Masterlist

Plot: Y/n’s life is a game of hide and seek and so far she’s beaten everybody. But her winning streak may not last as long as she’d hoped it would.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: OKAY. I have too many fics going at once but I got this idea and couldn’t let it go. I tried writing a Steve x Reader series a while back and it sucked quite frankly, so I spent a little more time developing this one. Steve doesn’t appear in this chapter but plenty of familiar faces do. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! (no beta reader because we die like men.)

--------

Bosnian winters were brutal. It got down to freezing temperatures, the pavement was iced over, you couldn’t go a day without being hit by a snowstorm…It was by no means remote but if you were hiding from something, not many people thought to look there. Which meant I was safe.

I casually strolled through the crowded Sarajevo marketplace, the only care in my mind being what I should eat for lunch. As soon as I stepped foot into the city, I knew I was on borrowed time. Not that it mattered, quick escapes were my forte. I spotted a falafel stand run by a middle aged man, one of the only stalls I hadn’t stopped at in the last few days. 

“Jedan, molim,” I said, smiling sweetly at the vendor as I watched him make the dish. As he prepared to hand me the finished product, I faked innocence and rushed to dig through the empty pockets of my coat. The man handed me the food wrapped in paper and raised his eyebrows expectantly. I looked up from my coat pockets and tilted my head, “Izvini.” Before he could understand why I was apologizing, I was gone…Having vanished into thin air.

When I reappeared, I was no longer in the marketplace. I was outside the abandoned shack in the Bosnian forest I’d been calling home the last couple days. I was living a ways out from the country’s capital so the search for the disappearing woman remained unsuccessful. Triumphant in having scored lunch, I turned on my heels to head inside my temporary home.

I hadn’t expected the dozen armed soldiers with their guns aimed at me.

“You boys wanna come in for a drink?” I quipped in English, gesturing to the front door, “I’m not sure I have enough for everyone but I can pop out to the store and get some more.” “I’d stay here if I were you,” a shadowed figure said from the front porch, “It didn’t take us long to track you and it won’t be hard to do it again.” Americans. In Bosnia. Interesting…

“Mind telling me who the hell you are?” I called, squinting to try and make the voice’s body out.

A man came forward, stepping in between two of the soldiers who still had yet to lower their weapons. He pushed back the hood of his winter coat to show his face, “Agent Coulson, we’re with S.H.I.E.L.D. We’d like you to come with us.” I looked behind and around me, waiting for someone to make a move. “So I’m supposed to just go with a group of soldiers with their guns pointed at my head? Is it that simple, Agent Coulson?” “It can if you want it to be,” he replied, for as threatening as he should have been he wore a small smile on his face, “We’d like to talk to you.” “About?”

“About how someone like you has been jumping from Russia to Colombia without a plane. Or India to Canada. Or Jamaica to Scotland.”

I raised an eyebrow and casually took a bite of the stolen falafel I still held, “So you have been tracking me.” “Miss Y/l/n, it would seem that you’re highly gifted,” Agent Coulson continued, taking a step closer to me, “We’re here to help you, not to hurt you. I’d like to bring you back to headquarters to talk to you about your abilities.” I smirked as I chewed, “I’m not a mercenary that organizations like yours can just hire for an assassination.” “That’s not why we’re here. It’s not what you can do for us, it’s what we can do for you.” “Hmm,” I sarcastically smiled, “And what is it that I’m getting out of going with you?”

“A life where you don’t have to steal baklava for lunch.”

Having lived how I had for so long, I prided myself on my good instincts. There was good, there was bad and every once in a while there was a grey area. A combination of right and wrong that was subjective to each person’s perspective. As my eyes scanned over Agent Coulson, a professional yet non threatening presence, and the soldiers ready to kill me if I dared to fight back, I decided that I had just landed in a very grey area. If I didn’t go with them, I wasn’t sure what they’d do. If I did, I wasn’t sure what they’d ask of me.

Then again, I was a bit of a grey area myself.

I held up my food, “It’s a falafel.”

————

It had been a long time since I’d been back in the states longer than the five seconds it took to steal a bag of Cheetos from a convenience store.

Agent Coulson had deposited me in a stark white interrogation room and promptly left. After the twenty minute mark passed without anyone entering, disappearing and landing in Cairo began to sound more and more attractive. Just as I was seriously considering it, the locked door opened.

“Miss Y/l/n,” a dark skinned man greeted, “You’re a hard one to pin down.” “Really? Cause according to Agent Coulson, it was as easy as breathing for you guys,” I replied, tightening my crossed arms.

“It got easier once we developed the right tech,” he said, coming to sit in the the chair directly across me, “But apparently you’d never heard of us until today ergo you didn’t know we were tracking you which begs the question…Who were you running from?”

“Wow,” I chuckled, “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” “I don’t like to waste time.” I snorted before giving him a once over. He wore an eyepatch, all jet black clothing complete with a matching trench coat. He looked the part of Man In Charge perfectly. “If you’re gonna ask me for my life story, I’m gonna need to know a little bit about you too.” “All you need to know about me right now is that I’m a man who sees potential in you.” “Potential?” “Potential.”

“That’s not what people typically see in me,” I narrowed my eyes and shook my head.

“No, they see a thief, a cheat, and I’m willing to bet,” the man leaned forward and put his arms on the table that separated us, “Somebody sees you as a threat.” Oh, if only he knew…

“If you’re a government agency then you already have a file on me, meaning that there’s not going to be much I have to say that you don’t already know,” I spoke up, making sure to continue matching the guy’s intense eye contact. 

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in concurrence before turning to the double sided glass window. It didn’t take more than five seconds before the door opened and Agent Coulson stepped through carrying a manila folder. He handed it to my questioner before disappearing through the doorway once again, I almost wished he would stay. He was the only person I knew at the moment.

“Looks like you’ve been all over,” the man observed as he flipped through the folder, “Gotten yourself into a lot of trouble and whenever someone catches you, poof! Like magic…”

I was excellent at hiding, but I knew when I was beat. As nice as leaving sounded, S.H.I.E.L.D knew too much about me for me to run.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, lowering my gaze to the table.

“Don’t know what?” “I don’t know who I’m running from,” I continued, “But they’re there. If I stay in one place for too long, someone breaks into whatever rusted shed I’m living in or ambushes me in the middle of a bazaar…Somebody wants me.” The man had stopped browsing my file and was intently watching me recount my story, “How long’ve you been on the run?” “Five years,” I explained, suddenly not comfortable with meeting him eye to eye  “I was fifteen, woke up in God knows where with no memory of how I got there. While I was wandering around trying to figure out where I was, a group of men tried to grab me. Fortunately for me,” my lips twisted into a smirk, “I can make a quick getaway.”

“You remember where you’re from?” I inhaled deeply and shut my eyes as I exhaled, “No. Any memories before I started living like this are…blurred. I can almost make out a few, mostly from when I was a kid, but I don’t remember any details about my life other than my name and my age. Got anything in your almighty folder that can fill in the gaps?” “We only know what you’ve told us and what you’ve chosen to shown the world,” he replied as he reopened the packet, “Looks like disappearing isn’t the only trick you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“A girl’s gotta defend herself somehow,” I cocked an eyebrow, by now I’d relaxed my rigid posture and was tracing shapes on the table with a finger, “But if you’ve done as much research as you say you have then you should know I don’t bring any of that out unless I absolutely have to.” “Oh, I’ve seen the security cam footage,” he laughed, folding his hands together in front of him, “You put on quite a show. That’s that potential I was talking about.”

After a beat of silence, I finally asked the million dollar question. “What is it that you want from me, Director Fury?”

He should’ve been surprised, most people were, but it didn’t seem like me digging around in his mind was more of an event than eating breakfast was. “Only when you absolutely have to, huh?”

I gave him a small shrug and waited for him to answer. He kept his eyes locked on me, nodding his head ever so slightly. “Miss Y/l/n, whether you’ve thought about it or not, you have the ability do a lot more with yourself than skipping out on the dinner bill. You could be out there stopping the kind of people that are after you instead of running from them. And if you weren’t interested in the prospect of that even just a little, you wouldn’t still be sitting here.” Now there he was right. I agreed to come with Agent Coulson, I willingly let them bring me into an interrogation room, I’d discussed vulnerable details of my life with Director Fury…There was a small part of me that wanted to be a part of something.

“You wanna keep bouncing between continents praying that you don’t get caught? That’s fine, it’s no skin off my back,” Director Fury held his hands up in mock surrender and promptly lowered them back down, “But you stay and you can be a part of a world bigger than you could possibly imagine.”

The only world I’d ever known was spinning a globe, picking a random location, finding the most remote part of the county, stealing what I needed to get by and living in abandoned houses. I’d never had any sense of security. And while the life that Director Fury was offering me gave no guarantee that I’d live long enough to grow old, it didn’t require me to stay as paranoid as I was in the name of survival. I’d gotten by just fine on my own, but I’d never allowed myself to think of a future where I didn’t have to just get by…

“I already told Agent Coulson that I’m not a mercenary,” I began firmly, “I’m not a weapon for you to utilize whenever you want. I’m not joining some super secret spy organization only to find out after a while that I’m working for the bad guys,” I paused to take a slow breath, “But I don’t particularly enjoy being a criminal and if what you’re saying is true, I’m willing to give it a shot.” Director Fury gave me a single nod and just like that, I’d accepted a job without actually committing to sticking around. Fury turned once again to the double sided mirror and the door swung open, ushering in Agent Coulson, a redheaded woman and a blonde man I had yet to meet.

“You’ve already met Agent Coulson, I’d like to introduce you to Agent Romanoff,” he gestured to the woman, “And Agent Barton,” he looked towards the blonde, “He and Coulson will be some of the senior personnel personally overseeing your transition into S.H.I.E.L.D and I have a hunch you and Miss Romanoff will work well together.” “I work just fine on my own, thank you,” I stated, the thought of trusting someone to have my back sent the walls I’d just lowered shooting back up.

“I hate to break it to you but we work as a team here,” Agent Romanoff said, her voice cool and unaffected by my displeasure. If anything, it seemed like she found it slightly amusing, “Besides, you don’t have anything to worry about. Agent Barton’s my partner.” 

Director Fury made for the door, Agent Romanoff and the still silent Agent Barton following promptly. “I’ll leave it to Coulson to get you settled, but I’ll be watching your progress closely.” I could give the man credit, he knew how to wear the whole Tall, Dark, Man-With-All-The-Secrets hat well except for one thing. He couldn’t keep any secrets from me. Once the room’s occupancy had lessened, my eyes flew to Agent Coulson.

“What’s the Avengers Initiative?”

He wore a small and knowing smile, “A work in progress. For now, let’s focus on getting you through training then we’ll work on finding you a partner.”

Standing up to follow him out the door, I protested against his checklist, “I already said-“ “I know, but there may come a time where you change your mind,” he interrupted, his tone had gone from professional to semi-friendly as we walked down the hall, “This job is rewarding, but it’s hard work. Having the right partner by your side makes it all a little easier. You’ll see…”

We approached a railing that overlooked the main floor of the headquarters. Coulson didn’t think twice about the view while I approached it curiously. There were people everywhere, more than I’d been around in a long time. Something about the sight of so many individuals dedicated to doing the right thing made something inside of me relax. Maybe for the first time in my life, I was right where I needed to be.

Agent Coulson must have sensed my peace, he came to stand beside me and turned his gaze to where mine was. “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

--------

Translations: Jedan, molim: One, please.

Izvini: Sorry.

[deathbecomesnerds]

"Imposter" Raymond/Astrid + Jax Teller

I was going to write some smut, and then lost my nerve so here's 1.7K words of nonsense!

He didn’t like this fucker--not one bit, but as he sat across from said fucker and his boss, the Kingpin of the London Bush game, he bit his tongue as they stared each other down while Michael Pearson droned on and on about logistics of moving a shit ton of supply from London to Charming, CA.

Jax’s eyes shifted back to Mickey, listening intently on what he was saying before Mickey sat back in his chair with a smile.

“So, what do you think?” the Texan asked.

Jax smirked “I think it’s a good deal, when do we draw up the paperwork?” he asked.

“In the morning, but tonight--lets celebrate!” Mickey chuckled, glancing over at Raymond who remained firmly in his place.

Jax chuckled “Sure, lets party!” he proclaimed before standing up and extending his hand to Mickey, who took it and gave a firm handshake before turning to leave the table.

Mickey glanced at Ray and smirked “You’re sure you’re an only child?” he asked.

Ray nodded his head firmly.

“Just checking,” Mickey said before walking away from the table to catch up with Jax.

Meanwhile, Ray grabbed up all the paperwork before grabbing his phone out of his jacket pocket to text Astrid that he was going to be late--that work was running overtime. She understood, said she wouldn’t wait up, and Ray thought to himself Well, that’s that then.

As the night droned on, Ray had left early to drop off the paperwork at Mickey’s home office--but not before Jax pocketed his wallet and checked it out for his address. Who the fuck was this guy? They were practically identical, but their personalities clashed like Toothpaste and Orange Juice--and Jax wanted to see how his elitist twin lived as he noted his address and excused himself from the party as well, knowing full well that the house would be empty, or so he thought.

Jax broke in through the backdoor, quiet as a mouse and closed the door gently behind him only to run into the couch in the dark that pushed into the coffee table that then knocked over a lamp--it wasn’t his most graceful moment, when he saw the lights flicker on from the hallway and attempted to hide, but whoever was coming down those steps was quicker, and they turned on the lights to the living and dining rooms to expose the Biker King.

“Raymond?” Astrid called out.

Jax blinked his eyes to see a tiny brunette in front of him, gun now pointing down at his feet as she sighed heavily while glaring at him.

“You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!” she continued, now looking him over as she approached him slowly “What the hell are you wearing? Raymond--where are your glasses!?” she asked him.

She reminded him of Tara, may she rest in peace, but he knew he had to think quickly as he stood in front of her, and she had a gun, much to his surprise. “I’m sorry...love.” he managed out a quick English accent.

Astrid tilted her head at him “What’s wrong with your voice?” she asked him.

Jax cleared his throat, still trying to find words when the woman in front of his sighed heavily “Ray, is this one of your experimental sex things? Cause if it is, I’m not in the mood. Tonight has been...a fucking nightmare!” she approached him closer before taking his hand “Just come to bed.” she muttered while guiding him upstairs.

He looked around the house as she held his hand with the gun still being held in her other, he needed to get the fuck out of here--how the hell was he supposed to know that Billy Tight Ass had a life outside of work? A woman who...he wouldn’t mind showing her a good time if he had the chance, but Tight Ass would be home soon, and he needed to get out of there ASAP!

“Love,” he finally said, almost perfecting the accent while Astrid stopped and turned to look at him.

“What, Ray?” she asked, looking his outfit over yet again.

Do it. He’s not here. Just a kiss.

“I have to...finish up some paperwork real quick.” he said.

Astrid huffed “It can wait until morning.” she insisted, dragging him into the bedroom.

She was so strong, gripping his hand tight and pulling him into the bedroom before letting him go and walking back over to her side of the bed, putting the gun back in her night table and crawling back into bed. Jax just continued to stare at her.

Astrid stared back, crossing her arms while sitting up in bed--something was off. His posture, his voice, his smell...clothes...all of it! His touch even seemed unfamiliar to her! But it’s Raymond. It’s my Ray.

“Come to bed, I won’t tell you again.” she muttered.

Jax nodded, taking off his kute as he walked towards the bathroom--hoping that this swanky home would have a window in the bathroom so he could jump out and escape but he could tell from just looking into the room there wasn’t one. He groaned before sighing heavily--he had to get the fuck out of there now.

“I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be right back!” Jax said with the accent, insistent as he turned to leave the bedroom, his kute in his hands.

As he stomped down the hall and hurried down the steps, he tried quickly to leave the home only to be somehow turned around and ended up in the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Jax muttered to himself.

He heard a voice clear his throat and he turned to see her behind him with her arms crossed still.

“Raymond, what is going on with you?” she asked him softly “Did something happen?” She asked him.

Jax looked her over again, the American woman who stood in front of him was so appealing to him and his cock kept aching to touch her even though he knew he had no time.

“No, everything’s fine.” He said, trying to assure her as he approached her and touched her arms “It’s just been a long night.” He said.

Astrid swallowed hard, reaching up to touch his face “Ray, it’s okay. Whatever happened tonight, you can fix it. You always know how.” She assured him before leaning in to kiss him.

Her lips were the softest thing he had ever felt, of the hundreds of sluts he’d managed to bag, Jax Teller could not stop himself from kissing her back and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I love you, Ray” she whispered in between kisses.

“I love you too.” Jax muttered out like it was nothing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” they both heard, as Jax looked up to see Ray fuming as he stood in the doorway into the kitchen. Astrid swiftly turned to face her husband with a look of pure shock on her face as she glanced back at Jax, then back at Ray.

Astrid jerked away from Jax as she looked at Ray “Ray?” she asked, so much confusion in her voice as Ray grabbed her arms and pulled her further away from the imposter.

“Go upstairs,” Ray demanded.

Jax scuffed “Just like at work, you bark orders at your old lady? It’s been a rough day for her, Raymond, maybe ease off the commands.”

Ray clenched his jaw, not saying anything while Astrid narrowed her brows at Jax as she pushed Ray aside while stomping towards Jax to throat punch him. Jax’s cocky smile ceased as he fell to his knees all before Ray grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him to the front door where Astrid opened it, and Ray promptly threw Jax out of their house.

Neither of them said anything as Ray slammed the door shut and locked it before glancing at Astrid who was still processing what had just occurred.

Ray placed a gentle hand on her cheek “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

She slithered away from his touch “Please don’t touch me,” she muttered as she walked away from Ray “Who the fuck was that guy?!” she asked, stopping at the staircase in the hall.

Ray sighed “...the new client.”

Astrid swallowed the lump in her throat while her eyes formed tears as she looked away from Ray “I thought he was you,” she said, “...I thought he was you, but something was wrong,” she choked on tears.

Ray went up to her “It’s alright,” he comforted her.

She shook her head “Everything felt wrong, how did I not know!? The way he touched me, the way he moved--his clothes should have been an obvious giveaway! I…I cheated on you!” she began to cry.

He shook his head, gently grabbing her and holding her close as she cried into his chest “You did not cheat on me, how were you supposed to know? I could have just been having a mental breakdown.” he assured her, before pulling away from Astrid “Look at me,” he insisted “Look at me, you did nothing wrong! That piece of shit broke into our home and then tried to take advantage of you! That is all!” he told her.

Astrid brushed away tears “What’s gonna happen to the deal?” she asked.

Ray couldn’t help but let a small smile out, even after what had just occurred--she was still more concerned with him and Mickey, he shrugged his shoulders “...I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Are you gonna tell Mickey?” Astrid asked.

Ray nodded “Absolutely. Nobody puts a hand on you, ever. You or Ros, you understand me?”

Astrid nodded.

“It’s late, my Star.” he whispered to her “Why don’t you go to bed, I’ll be up in a second.” he told her.

Astrid glared at him “Work can wait,” she told him.

“I’m gonna make sure everything’s locked, so that cunt can’t weasel his way back in.” Ray told her.

She nodded “Okay,” she muttered, leaning in to kiss Ray and felt the normalcy of it--the returning calm of familiarity after what Astrid could only deem a cautious moment. Ray watched as she slowly climbed up the stairs and Ray waited a few moments before he pulled out his cell phone and dialed for Mickey.

“Raymond,” Mickey greeted.

“Boss,” Ray sighed “There was an incident…”

Mickey was silent for a moment “What kind of an incident?”

[tenacityreturns]

momoi shifts , carefully drinking her bubble tea. today , she was waiting on sakurai to show up for their bi-weekly shopping trip and had seen kagami out of the side of her eye so of course, she had to say hi! leaning back in her chair , she gets a flash of lunch with aomine wondering about fate. " hey , kagamin, " she starts, " do you believe in fate ? " / from momoi <3

@peachmuses 

kagami is watching a tall girl across the mall cafeteria demonstrate, without a ball, how to shoot a basketball. he assumes it's a basketball. she's laughing as her friends have a go, none of them caring that they're in public and everybody could see them. one friend says something as she puts her wrists together, it looks like she's talking about volleyball or something. he wonders what it's like to have friends with different hobbies. he hasn't given it much thought since finding a love for basketball, but he'd still be a loner if not for that. not everyone is as out-going and friendly as tatsuya used to be. the girls sit down at their table again, and he loses interest. he wonders, briefly as the thought is soon interrupted, whether putting all his chips into basketball is the right idea. maybe he should join a cooking class or... run a cooking class ( inspired by present company ).

“kagamin,” he repeats with a grumble as she continues speaking, more to himself than to her. what is it with these people and giving out nicknames like it’s christmas! all these generation of miracles do it, just about. it’s so annoying! kagamin, kagamicchi, bakagami, even! will they ever stop?

but this thought, too, is interrupted before he can make a scene with it. kagami’s got an expressive face, and every emotion sparked by the random question is displayed clear as day. surprise: raised eyebrows, opening mouth as if to speak but with nothing yet to say; incredulousness: squinting eyes, now a frown; contemplative: downturned lips tightened into a line, averting his gaze. does he? why the hell is she even asking? without having given it much thought, he sighs.

“where the hell did that come from?”

“nowhere,” she smiles, then taps her chin with her index finger, “it’s just, dai--- aomine-kun brought it up the other day, and i haven’t gotten it out of my mind.”

“dai-chan brought it up?” kagami deadpans, “no way did that idiot come up with a thing like that.”

“oh, but he did! he’s impulsive, which sometimes comes across as inconsiderate or inattentive, yes, but he thinks about these things a lot.”

“what did he say?” he sits back in his seat, careful not to kick her. kagami folds his arms across his chest.

momoi lowers her drink and hides behind her hand, suddenly acting all embarrassed. “maybe i shouldn’t say!”

“now you have to, saying a thing like that! i won’t tell anyone.”

“he said-- he said!” she’s playing up her embarrassment, right? there’s nothing dai---- aomine could have said that would make her go all... gooey... right? unless-- he didn’t confess to her or anything? no...

“momoi,” he grumbles, “come on.”

“very well!” she sets her drink directly in-front of her on the table, frowning seriously. her hands grip the edge for a moment before lacing together. when she looks up at him, her eyes are cold and calculating -- but gentle. “i trust you, so i’ll tell you. aomine-kun believes that it’s fate that you met.”

here comes the incredulousness again. it distorts his face into a squinting grimace. “he didn’t say that.”

“he did.”

“about me?”

“about you,” her hands release and then fold again.

ah. his cheeks are the first to betray him. in fact, his blush is currently his only reaction, besides downturned lips. does he have any thoughts right now? kagami is short-circuiting. momoi’s eyes are putting him off, so he stares out the window finds nothing easier to look at there. fate, huh? fate. alright. he’s got to say something. or leave. fate. stupid idiot aomine said he thinks it’s fate that they met? what the fuck? what the fuck! alright. alright. alright! alright? alright. alright! that’s a song, right? an american song or something, it’s in english at least. there’s a hook he’s got stuck in his mind now. it’s something else to think about, anyway. alright, now fellas! what’s cooler than being---

“please don’t be upset with aomine-kun,” she says quietly, “or bring it up. he’ll only deny it.”

“no-- no, i--” he sits forward, “i’m not upset. i told you i wasn’t gonna tell anyone so i won’t. he really said that about me? specifically?”

“yes! how you met us at exactly the right point in time, how you happened to join tetsu-kun’s team, the best you could have met first. wouldn’t things be different if you had joined some other team?”

“this is a lot to think about,” he rubs his temple, “you mean aomine thinks like this all the time?”

“well, not all the time,” she reaches into her bag to bring out her pink phone, and replies to a text as she speaks, “but he does talk about you a lot.”

“me? what’s he say?”

“mmm,” she looks around the room searchingly, tentatively standing. no, don’t leave now! what kind of fate is this?! in his desperation at the fleeting moment of opportunity, kagami also stands. as he does, he notices a guy a full head and shoulders taller than most other people around them. speak of the devil! somehow, seeing aomine’s frown dissipate into a smile ( even if that does turn into a smirk ) makes everything worse for once. “oh! what’s he doing here? i guess i’ll see you around, kagamin!”

“huh?!” he feels like he’s being left behind, and stands helplessly as she runs over and greets her friends. sakurai says something, momoi says something, and aomine walks straight passed them. kagami stands straighter, shuts his gaping mouth, and returns to that downturned look of embarrassment.

“oho, what did she say to you?” he’s smirking, but he’d probably just leave if he knew the truth! kagami’s resolved to not say it, of course, but it’s too much to look at him right now! kagami picks up his backpack and pulls it over one shoulder. when aomine repeats his question, it’s with a touch of horror in his voice. “what did she say to you?”

“nothing!” kagami blurts, “nothing. you--- uh, you’re not hanging out with them today?”

“maybe i will,” aomine takes a step away, like sand through fingers, “you’re being weird.”

“uh-- yeah,” his brain is in overdrive right now. “i am? sorry.”

“look, half what she says is bullshit to get a rise outta you. i know it doesn’t look like it, but she likes pushing people’s buttons too.”

“no, no-- i don’t think it was like that.”

“okay,” he turns and starts off in the direction of the others. he must have been able to sense that kagami was off ( no, you fucking dumbass, it’s literally so obvious that you’re uncomfortable and don’t know up from down. cute to think you were being subtle though ? ).

well, that’s no good! if aomine leaves now, kagami doesn’t know how long it will be until he can face him again! better to conquer the fears and awkwardness and butterflies -- however the fuck he’s feeling right now -- and grab the bull by its horns! or, in this case, to catch up and throw his arm around aomine’s shoulders, steering him away.

“no way, you think you can get outta playing a one-on-one with me?” kagami’s trying to be normal, but aomine’s scrutinising glare is a lot to deal with. he gives his best toothy smile, and gets shrugged off but not in the don’t touch me, you weirdo kind of way. hopefully?

“maybe losing will knock some sense into you,” aomine grumbles. “wait, you don’t even have a basketball?”

“uh,” yep, hadn’t thought of that. “i could just buy one-- ?”

“nah, let’s go to the arcade and i’ll whop your ass in there.”

kagami does his best to bury the whole fate concept, which has clearly done little else but freak him out, as they make their way to the arcade. he doesn’t have it in him to talk shit, though, so there’s no reply to that last comment. kagami isn’t sure if he believes in fate, but it’s weird knowing someone else thinks that about him. he’s got butterflies he can’t shake, and he finds himself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. like that would help anything! instead, he balls up his fists and shoves them into his hoodie pockets. just as he can feel a frown forming, he glances at aomine and notices the familiar red hoodie. kagami’s red hoodie. just as kagami is wearing one of aomine’s. what. that’s--- that’s kind of funny, actually. they could just swap back right now, and that would probably be the normal thing to do, but it looks so good on aomine. kagami’s smiling before he can do anything about it.

“what the fuck are you looking at?” aomine’s alarmed when he spots the change, and instead of sounding insulting or argumentative, his question just sounds surprised.

“nothing, dumbass!” kagami elbows him, giving in just a little. aomine hits him straight back, even as kagami’s continuing. “that’s my hoodie, is all.”

“yeah, so what? you’re wearing mine.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“you ain’t getting it back, pal,” aomine looks away again, with the excuse of looking around the arcade as they walk inside.

finally, kagami pulls his eyes away. what is it aomine talks about when kagami isn’t around? is it his cooking? his basketball? what does he think of him? usually, kagami doesn’t care-- or at least, he pretends not to. and he cares a little bit about how aomine feels about him... naturally, his eyes settle on the basketball hoops in the corner and he grabs aomine’s arm to drag him over. aomine shrugs him off again.

“what the-- oh kagami,” it’s a groan, but aomine’s smiling. “you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“loser buys the next game!”

“better get your money ready, bakagami.”

“like hell i will!”

he isn’t thinking about it anymore, but maybe it’s fate that kagami noticed that they’re wearing each other’s hoodies at such a crucial moment. it frees him up, somehow, to enter the present. soon enough, fate is completely out of his head, and he’s playing the hoop shooting game backwards because the two of them can’t help but show off. then they’ll play racing, kagami pays, and a platform game, and then kagami’s talking about the arcade he used to go to as a little kid with tatsuya. then they’re talking about something else. something else. nothing and everything. maybe it’s fate that he wasn’t carrying a basketball today, so that they could have whatever today had turned into.

[blush-and-books]

Juke 48 fluff please...

Prompt #48: “I told you to take care of yourself.”

Ksjahdsf High School AU inspired by the fact that my generation has been so crushed by the pressures of our education system that we would always show up to school with colds and strep and literally anything because we refused to miss school. Double inspired by the morning I threw up at 3AM and had a cold but literally went downstairs and monologued to my mom that I had to go to school bc I had two quizzes that would have been hell to make up and I would have had major anxiety if I missed anything. And she let me go. Triple inspired by the fact that pre-COVID I would get sick routinely 4 times across Oct, Nov and Dec because my peers would also show up sick. So, yeah. Here’s to the american education system 

Luke knows that something is off with his best friend when she finally approaches her locker that Wednesday morning, where he had been anxiously bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for her.

Where she is usually like sunshine to him, glowing brighter than the California sunrise -- a lyric in the song he was planning to show her, but would never admit was inspired by her as well -- she arrives with the pale glow of the moon instead. Julie’s eyes are half-open, and her usually bouncy curls have been pulled back and up unto a messy bun. 

He hasn’t seen her like this since-

“Jules,” he mumbles, half to himself and half to her when she finally looks up and notices him. Instantaneously, he takes an energetic step towards her, letting his hands rest on her upper arms. “Are you sick? Again?”

As if she doesn’t want to hear it, not again, her bottom lip juts out in a pout that is only seen on a miserable Julie Molina before she brushes past him to her locker. Deeply concerned, Luke trails after her. 

“Julie, hey,” he attempts, but she won’t look up at him. There’s a shame in her face while she gets her calculus textbook from her locker, and it’s then that Luke notices the thermos she’s clutching in her left hand. “Let me take this stuff. Drink your tea. Don’t try and talk, I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

She shakes her head, it’s not his fault, she’s the idiot showing up to school sick, but she couldn’t miss today. She just couldn’t. 

Without putting up a fight, she lets him take her backpack and textbook from her possession while she unscrews the lid of her thermos and chugs two big gulps of tea. Temporary relief is brought to her throat, but it doesn’t last long. 

“I-” She attempts, but Luke shoots her a glare and wags a finger at her. Ignoring him, she powers on. “I have a calc test and a history quiz and an English debate.”

“You can make those up.” “But do I want to? Do I want to miss a whole day of notes and work and assignments because I have a runny nose?”

(And a sore throat, obviously. And a headache. She also woke up right before her alarm to throw up, but she hasn’t felt the urge to do that again since. You get the picture though.)

“Jules, I mean this in the best way possible, but you look like there’s a lot more than a runny nose happening here. A runny nose was two weeks ago. This looks like your whole body aches.”

(Fair assessment. It does.)

She lifts her thermos to her lips once again to soothe the throbbing that resulted from her excuses, feeling her stomach twirl in a way that she can’t tell is another bout of nausea or just Luke making her painfully fall more in love with him. 

He, on the other hand, is one step away from hauling her over his shoulder and driving her home himself. He doesn’t know what to do. Julie’s stressed, and the stress has made her vulnerable to colds for the past couple of months, and this is the third time he’s seen her sick. No matter what, she shows up to school -- freshman year, she stayed home sick with the stomach flu, and had a panic attack in the bathroom on the day that she came back. 

He knows because he was in her music class that year. Her best friend, Flynn, had rushed into the music room to explain to their teacher, and he’ll never forget it. 

Coincidentally, it was two months ago, with Julie’s first ceremonious cold of the year, that Luke officially realized that he was in love with her. It was the feeling of seeing her uncomfortable, powering through because she felt like she had to -- he was so proud, yet so worried, and wanted to bring her home so they could watch Tangled and he could make her the matzo ball soup recipe that Alex taught him when they were kids. 

“I know,” she croaks at him, face crumbling. “It does. I feel like shit. But I just have to get through today, and I’ll be fine.”

(After spending six hours at school, another two on homework, pedaling through five bottles of Gatorade and getting four hours of sleep because her throat and sinuses prevent her from any adequate rest. Yeah. She’ll be fine.) ((She’ll still come to school tomorrow.))

Luke knows all of this. In his head, he’s drafting the text to his parents that he’ll type out in his lap during first period to tell them that he’s going to be at the Molina’s for the next couple of days, taking care of Julie. They do have a band to worry about, after all, and their lead singer needs to be in top shape. 

Just looking at her tired face makes his chest hurt. She looks like she hasn’t smiled in a long time. Wanting to comfort her, somehow, he reaches his hands up to cradle her cheeks -- but she swats him away. 

“Luke, no. I’m not getting you sick.”

Fighting her flailing hands, he manages to slip his own to her cheeks, making sure that the fingers that are wandering into her hair rub her scalp. That’s always a calming, relieving feeling. 

“Impossible, mariposa. My immune system is Herculean.”

She looks up at him, fully, for the first time that morning. He can’t help but grin at getting to see her face, no matter how tired she thinks she looks, and even though she thinks he is full of shit she can’t help but mirror his expression. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispers unconsciously. Her skin warms underneath his hands. “Are you alright? Do you have a fever? You’re getting a little toasty.”

Her skin temperature rises from her blush even higher as his hands slip from her hair and to her forehead, pathetically testing for a fever. 

“I’m good,” she shakes her head, trying to brush it off. His eyes refocus on her, and he sighs; the air staying silent between them as she tries to decipher what he’s thinking. 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he insists. “I told you to take care of yourself. Can’t have my frontwoman blowing her nose in between each song at a gig.”

“I’m your frontwoman now? Fuck Julie and the Phantoms, I guess.”

Luke smirks, and for a heavenly moment forgets that the precious girl in front of him isn’t in pain, but she stiffles a cough after her joke. Frowning, he drops his hands to grab hers so that he can hold them up between their chests. 

“You’re my everything, silly. Frontwoman, best friend, study partner, favorite person-”

“-Walking petri dish.”

“Yes. My walking petri dish.”

The joke lightens Julie up. Maybe today, if her and Luke can keep making jokes, she will get through. She can’t think of anything else to say as his lips press against her forehead in a gesture so caring that she would grab his face and move those lips down a few inches if she weren’t, you know, a walking petri dish. 

Before either of them can say anything else, the school bell rings. It’s time for her miserable day to start. Just the idea of sitting still in her math class makes her shiver, and she wraps her arms around herself. 

“Are you cold?” Luke jumps to ask, moving closer to her as the halls start moving with crowds of other students. 

“Luke, I’m fine-”

“My locker is right by your math class. I have a flannel in there. You’re wearing it today.”

“Luke-”

“No arguments. I was walking you to class anyways. I’m walking you to every class, actually. Your backpack weighs more than you do and that’s the last thing you need to feel right now.”

(Not to be creepy, but Julie Molina would marry Luke right now if he asked. Sometimes she wonders if her other best friend, Flynn, is right when she makes jokes about her and Luke being a married couple. If this is marriage, sign her up.)

“Thank you,” she says lightly, trying not to strain her throat. Luke responds with tugging on her left hand, beginning to pull her towards the staircase at the end of the hall. 

“We’ll get you better, Molina. Mark my words.”

Tagging @willexx because you got all impatient on me. love you babe and love you too anon!!

[uomo-accattivante]

I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - cdolen@herald.com

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

[captainreecejames]

here is the first part to Win a Date with an English Premier League Player! - Winners are Released. 

author’s note: this is gonna be a short series, i’m not really sure how many parts its gonna be but I’m going to guess around five or six. as i’ve said before, this is a trope from win a date with tad hamilton, but it’s still my story. i’ve tried to make the reader (which is a female) as neutral as possible, with no physical description so that it fits everyone. If I haven’t done that and you spot something, please tell me and I’ll fix it!

warnings: definitely some language in here and the reader’s first relationship is unhealthy, so be wary of that

word count: 1.6k

part two

“What the hell is this?” Troy asked Y/N, shoving her phone in her face as she tried to get ready for their date.

“What the hell is what?” she asked back, not even trying to read the screen that was two inches from her face. 

“This voicemail!” Her blank look only irritated him more. “You’ve won a date with Christian Pulisic! When the fuck did you sign up for a date with that sad footballer?”

“I didn’t,” she answered plainly, going back to applying the mascara on her eyelashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As Y/N finished speaking, the flat door slammed closed and Erin, her best friend, announced her presence. “Babe! Where are you?”

“Bathroom!” Y/N called back, ignoring the look sent by her boyfriend.

“So I did something,” she started as she walked towards the couple. Y/N could tell her friend was guilty by the way her tone and she looked towards the door, waiting for her to appear. 

“Does it have anything to do with this voicemail that Y/N just received?” Troy looked down at her, a stern look in his eyes that Erin didn’t back away from.

“Hello Troy,” a drawl in her voice which Y/N recognized. Erin’s dislike for Troy began when Y/N started dating him and it only grew with every break up the two went through. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It’s date night,” Y/N answered, a pointed look at her best friend. She mouthed an oops as Troy rolled his eyes, picking up his phone to answer a call. 

“Go for Troy,” he said walking away, Erin mocking him to Y/N’s face. She stifled a laugh, turning back to the mirror to inspect the makeup on her face, making sure there were no smudges. 

“So, does whatever you did happen to be related to this voicemail I have yet to listen to that claims I won a date with Christian Pulisic?”

“Maybe.”

“When did you even do that?” She walked towards her bedroom, grabbing her purse and coat laying on the bed.

“Like a month ago, you and Troy were on a ‘break’ that I definitely thought was going to last longer than it did.” She put air quotes around break, making Y/N roll her eyes again. “Wonder where I got that idea from.”

She was about to respond when Troy came in, tapping his foot expectantly. “Erin, I don’t really care why you did it, can you just cancel on them for me?”

“No!” she yelled, shocking the other two. “It doesn’t have to be a romantic date or anything, but you are going out with Christian Pulisic! How else am I ever going to get to meet Tammy Abraham?” Y?N rolled her eyes again, ushering Erin out of her flat with Troy behind her. 

“I don’t know, maybe you should have signed yourself up for that date thing and said Tammy?” she suggested as she locked the front door. 

“He wasn’t an option, and how many times have you said that Pulisic was beyond fit?” Erin gulped as she saw Troy tense, regretting her words as she looked between the two. 

“I’ll see you later, Erin.” With a terse smile, Y/N sent her best friend one more pointed look before ushering Troy down the stairs so they could start their date. 

><

“Ay, Christian!” Tammy called as he opened the door to his hotel room. “Who’s the lucky girl?” he asked with a teasing smirk on his face. 

“What girl?” Callum asked, sitting up on his bed to look at the American boy who laid upside down on his own bed. 

Christian groaned, sitting up so he could show the boys his new email. Fikayo smirked as he sat down, grabbing the phone in Christian’s outstretched hand to read the news. 

“Christian lost a bet two months ago on who could get the most crossbar hits, and he had to agree to be one of the premier league players that joined the ‘Win a date’ contest,” Tammy explained, smiling wide as Christian just shook his head. “Put a reminder in my phone for when the winners would be announced so I could come tease him about it.”

“Check her Instagram yet?” Mason asked from his spot on the desk. It seemed everyone was enjoying this but Christian. 

“I’m pulling it up right now,” Fikayo answered, copying the Instagram handle that was provided into the search bar, resulting in one page: y/ninstagram. Fikayo clicked on it, nodding as the pictures loaded. “She’s fit.”

Tammy grabbed the phone next, scrolling through with his own smirk. “Definitely your type, Captain America.”

Christian groaned at the nickname, watching as his phone was passed around his friends. “I don’t have a type.”

All four looked at him with a pointed look, making him blush from their stares. “Looks like she has a boyfriend though,” Callum added, brows furrowed as he looked at the pictures himself. 

Christian, also confused, grabbed his phone back. He couldn’t deny that she was very attractive, and if he had a type, which he didn’t, then she fit it really well. 

“Why’d she sign up if she had a boyfriend?” Mason asked, though no one had an answer from him. 

“Wait,” Christian interupted, “she dmed me.”

y/ninstagram : hey, idk if you’re even gonna see this cause you have like 3 million followers but i’m the girl who like “won a date” with you. My friend signed me up cause she thought it’d make me get over my ex but we actually got back together. I just don’t think i should be going on a date with a man im not in a relationship with. Anyway, i’m gonna contact the people in charge and tell them to pick a different person.

y/ninstagram : also, hope you get better soon so you can be back in blue!

><

Y/N had just reached the top of the steps when Erin opened her door, a sheepish look on her face. “How was your date?” Y/N sent her a scathing look, fiddling with the keys as she walked to her own door. “Are you ignoring me now?”

Still not answering, Y/N opened the door to her flat, though she wasn’t mad enough to lock Erin out. She held the door open for Erin to follow her in. “It was a nightmare,” she answered while shrugging her jacket off. “Thanks for that.”

Erin followed Y/N to the kitchen, sighing at her friend as she pulled open her fridge for the wine sitting in the door. “I’m sorry, I knew better than to say those things about Pulisic.”

“With Troy here!” Y/N cut her off, turning around with the wine in hand and a sad look in her eyes. 

Erin’s heart dropped, feeling even worse as tears welled in Y/N’s eyes. “What happened?” Erin walked to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“I messaged Christian, told him I couldn’t do the date and Troy stopped talking to me. It was so awkward. I feel like I’m being dramatic by crying right now, but I’m just tired of everything with him. Why can’t it be easy anymore?” Erin just hugged Y/N tighter, wishing that she could know how much better she deserved. 

y/ninstagram : hi christian pulisic!!! This is erin, Y/N’s best friend. I just wanted to let you know that even though she said she’s backing out of the date, she won’t actually be doing that. I will make her go on that date with you even if I have to drag her out of her apartment and to the restaurant myself. Anyway, i also hope you get better soon and tell tammy abraham that he is fine

><

“Have you messaged her back?” Mason asked the next morning, looking at Christian expectantly. The American boy only looked down at his phone. “It’s been a night, Christian, and I think that she can see that you read her message.”

“I don’t even know how to answer her,” he defended. “Besides, her friend messaged me too, and she said that Y/N was going to go on a date with me even if she dragged her to it.”

“Mate, sounds like this girl doesn’t even like you,” Mason teased.

Tammy came to Christian’s rescue. “That’s not true,” he interrupted, placing his tray on the table next to Chris. “I did some research, and she’s a definite Blue.” Tammy’s smile grew wider, turning into a teasing smirk directed at his friend. “And she’s a Pulisic fan as well.”

“How do you know this?”

“She’s got a saved Story from the Burnley game. Properly drunk during the game and bought a Pulisic jersey. Friends tease her about it in the comments still.” Christian only blushed at his friends comments, looking down at his phone to see another message. She had dmed him again.

y/ninstagram : i am so sorry about erin, she’s very overzealous and can be a lot to handle. Don’t feel pressured to do this date. And don’t feel pressured to tell tammy he’s fine, she’s just obsessed with him lol. Hope to see you out against arsenal.

y/ninstagram : also i can see that you have read those other messages just a fyi

“Ayyo,” Tammy exclaimed, pulling up from peering over Christian’s shoulder. “Her friend thinks I’m fine.” The two others rolled their eyes at him. “What was that friend's name?” He leaned back down, squinting to read the screen.

“What, you gonna stalk her too?” Mason asked, but seeing Tammy buried in his phone gave him the answer he needed.

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 3

Here it is!

Was it only the water of the shower?

Non, his tears were mixing with it. His tears, and his blood. 

Lucien had only slept for a few hours. When he had come back from the gym, he cried himself to sleep, only to wake up on the carpeted floor of his hotel room, his head and hands on the coffee table, next to the letter. 

But now, he was taking a shower. 

He couldn't go to the funeral covered in bruises and dried blood. Non. He even thought that he couldn't go to the funeral at all. But he had to. This was his wife that they were putting underground, and he hadn't seen her in years.

Lucien rocked back and forth under the shower head. His eyes were closed and his arms wrapped around himself. He kept bumping his forehead against the tiled wall, a low drumming that gave him the illusion that time was stopping around him, that he could take that time, without it passing, without losing it. His tears did not stop.

He had talked to Marie, sometimes, on the telephone. Whenever his work took him to the United States, he would always stop at a public telephone booth and call the number he knew by heart. 

Like a teenager on the phone with their secret lover, he would speak low to her, for no one else to hear, even though the booth was closed and no one paid attention to him. He would lazily play with the phone cord around his gloved finger as he murmured words of love and longing to her. 

He would ask how Jérémy was and on the few occasions that it was Jérémy himself who picked the phone, Lucien would freeze, and it would take him a few seconds to clear his throat, collect himself and ask to speak to his mother. 

He had heard his son grow over the phone mostly. His voice went from a little boy's to a man's. The first time that Jérémy picked up the phone with a deeper voice, Lucien's eyebrows had jumped. 

"Who is this?" He had asked.

"It's Jay." The voice with the Boston accent answered. 

Lucien's jaw had dropped. 

"Jérémy?" His lips mumbled. 

"Yeah, funky accent you got there. Who's this?" 

The Frenchman gulped down hard and a trembling hand went to his brow. 

"May I speak with your mother, please?"

"Sure… Ma'! Phone's for ya!" 

"Hello?" The feminine voice was a delight to the spy's ears. 

"Marie?" 

"Oh, hey… Jay? Why don't you go out with your friends?"

Lucien waited for a few seconds. 

"Yeah, Lulu? Hon'? How are you?" 

"Jérémy…" He answered. "His voice…"

"Yeah, he's growin' up. He reminds me of you, in his own little way… Lulu? love, are you here?”

The spy had to look up to swallow back the tears that came to his eyes. His son was becoming a man…!

Last time he held him, the little boy could hardly walk. 

And Lucien remembered how he used to feed him, put him to sleep, play with the little blond baby. Ah, putting him to sleep was what Lucien would remember all his life and beyond. There was something of a deeper connection when the lights were out and baby Jérémy looking up at his then much younger father, with his hair still all black. The father would sing to his son and if at first Jérémy would play and laugh with him, soon, the deep and soothing sound of Lucien’s singing would put him to sleep. 

“I heard you sing to him.”

“Oui.” Lucien would slip in the bed with the woman who stole him off of the million arms of other, non important women. 

“What song is that?”

“A lullaby.”

“Sing it to me.”

“It is not in English, Marie.”

“I know, heard you purr like you do when you sing in French.” She laid her head on his chest and he switched the night lamp off. “So go ahead.”

Lucien looked down at her and smiled.

“Ne m’oublie pas,

[Don’t forget me.]

Je vais devoir m’en aller.

[I have to go.]

Ne m’oublie pas

[Don’t forget me.]

Tu ne dois pas pleurer.

[You must not cry.]

Même quand je suis très loin de toi,

[Even when I am very far from you,]

Tu restes dans mon coeur

[You remain in my heart.]

Je chante en secret chaque soir

[I sing in secret every night]

Pour que tu n’aies plus peur.

[So that you don’t feel scared]

Ne m’oublie pas,

[Don’t forget me,]

C’est à regret que je pars.

[It is with regret that I leave.]

Ne m’oublie pas, 

[Don’t forget me,]

Quand je chante, tu es dans mes bras.”

[When I sing, you are in my arms.]

He sang it again, translating himself and Marie looked up at him with a distraught smile on her lips. 

“We will miss you, hon’.”

“Me too.” He squeezed her tighter and adjusted the blanket on her back to better cover her.

“But we won’t ever forget you.”

Their eyes met and soon, their lips. 

Meanwhile, the old Lucien sighed under the continuous flow of the shower, the white noise of it covered his sniffles. He mechanically stopped the water and stepped out. 

He readied himself. Black suit and tie, black hat too and assorted, varnished shoes. 

He raised his eyes to the mirror and hated the sight. He had nothing against the suit, it did its job, making his cinder hair appear even lighter, the bags under his eyes and his slender cheeks a show of death itself. Non, what he hated was the insult of a man that stared back at him. 

Lucien put his gloves on his still bruised knuckles, to hide the misery he now had to, and made his way out without anything in his stomach. 

The taxi ride was as silent as it had been since he had learnt the news and jumped into the first plane for Boston. He had left Paris hurriedly, taking only what the letter from the American secret services had told him to. 

The flower is withering. Black suit. 

Of course, Lucien had trusted Fred with keeping an eye on Marie and Jérémy. But that telegram had killed him. He had wanted to see her before it was too late but Marie's lungs gave up before the Frenchman set a foot in America. 

"Here we are, Sir. And I'm sorry for your loss."

The driver's voice cut Lucien's train of thought. He paid what he owed, maybe more, God only knew, and he left. He passed the black wrought iron gates of the cemetery and walked resolutely to the group of people that he did not recognise. 

He kept his distance from them all but couldn't help hearing their low chatter. 

"Where's her husband?”

“Who?”

“Jay’s dad. Isn't he gonna come? Even for that?" 

"I don't know… Jay said his father's dead."

Lucien lowered his hatted head and frowned, exhaling from his nostrils angrily. 

"Mary told me it wasn't actually true."

"She lied to him?"

"No, he made this up because he got fed up with people askin' him about his dad." 

Lucien looked away but soon, silence fell. The coffin was brought forth and the priest started speaking.

He spoke at length about the courage of this single mother who raised and provided for those children, how she did a formidable job at it despite an absent and cowardly father. 

If only they knew… 

But where she was going, Mary would still see her boys, her little men. She would still be there for them. 

Such nonsense, Lucien was thinking. 

Mary was gone. She was dead. She wasn't there anymore with anyone. She wasn't there for Jérémy, she wasn't there for him, she was there for no one! 

Lucien thought he'd better get used to the hard truth rather than sugarcoat it with nonsense like that. 

Oh. 

They started lowering the coffin. 

Lucien heard the sniffles, the cries, the muffled tears in Marie's family. He wanted for the whole show to be done with to stay with her, alone. 

It lasted quite a while. As he eavesdropped on the conversations, he learnt that some people were family, some were friends, others, neighbours. 

They all put flowers down, candles, words on a letter that would crumple under the rain. But they eventually left. 

The Frenchman took a few steps forward, coming out of his hiding, and crouched down. 

"Marie…" 

Words failed him. 

"Ma petite fleur."

[My little flower.] 

He sniffled. 

"I beg you to forgive me." He paused. "I wasn't at your side when you most needed it. I failed you." 

Lucien wiped a tear with the back of his gloved hand. 

"I failed you as a husband, and I failed myself as a man. I took vows that I did not uphold."

No, Lulu, hon'... We agreed on this. I knew you had to be far for work and you only wanted to protect us. It's ok, it's alright-

"Non." Lucien answered the voice that he could only hear in his head. "Non, it is not alright. I swore, Marie. I swore that I would take care of you from the moment I said 'I do' in front of that priest and until death do us apart. I…" 

Had he been alone in his lonely room, he would have gone through yet another fit of sobs, of pulling his hair off his own head, of rocking back and forth like a madman. But he was out in the open and most importantly, he was right in front of the tombstone that shall haunt him from now on. 

"Hey! Who the hell're you?! Get the hell out of my Ma's grave!" 

Cold sweat. Lucien tapped a button on his watch and his silhouette vanished in a thin cloud of smoke. 

"Hey! What the-?!" 

The young man stopped, a few feet away from his mother's grave. Unbeknownst to him, his father was standing right in front of him, a hand on his own mouth and tears streaming down his face. 

More than twenty years. More than twenty years had passed and he was now seeing his son. 

Mon Dieu, he had his mother's kind eyes even though they were red with tears and slightly swollen, he had her gentle gaze, Lucien could see it. The blond boy had grown up and his hair had darkened to be dirty blond now. 

He had short hair and seemed uncomfortable in his black suit. Ah, he surely wasn't used to wearing one.

"Jay, you comin'?"

"Yeah, Auntie…" 

“Hurry up or I’ll send your brothers!”

Unbeknownst to him, Jérémy was squinting and staring through his very invisible father. He left soon after but Lucien remained, petrified. 

That was… Jérémy? 

The baby he had held in his arms all those years ago was now a man nearly as tall as him.

He stared at him as he made his way out, following the crowd, his family that surely somehow was Lucien's too. But he had never met them, never talked to them. He knew the names or the existence of a few of them, when Marie would tell him about them. 

But both had wanted to keep their private lives very much private. Marie knew her family would never approve of her marrying a stranger. Lucien was the only man to ever treat her as a woman, he knew that, she had told him that. He made her feel taken care of in his hands, even if he was absent most of the time. It was the respect he treated her with that made her cling to him at all costs, he knew it.

When he told her about his job and what he had to do sometimes, she had nodded. 

“Do you understand, Marie? I… I cannot be the family man that I should be. My job requires me to… to do unthinkable things that no one else can and… Sometimes, if you knew what I do, you would… You would doubt my feelings for you.”

“No.”

“Pardon?” He had asked in his mother tongue.

“No, Lulu. I know that you love me sincerely. And I love you the same way. I don’t care what your job is. I… I know you love it too and…”

“Marie, I am sorry.”

“No, let me finish.”

He was holding her in his arms, in their bed that morning.

“I had Fred talk to me.”

“Merde…” Lucien mumbled to himself.

[Shit.]

“He explained to me that you were a… a war hero…?”

He sighed, frowned and looked away.

“Is that true?” She insisted and he shook his head.

“Non. I just did what had to be done and what no one else could. It could have been anyone else. I just happened to be there at those times and places where my skills came in handy, nothing more.”

“Pff…” He looked at her and she was smiling. “Fred also said you’d say that. You’re a war hero and certainly, you’re my hero.” She leaned her head on his chest again and left a prude kiss.

“I know this is selfish of me but…”

“But what?” She raised her head to him and he held her hand in his.

“But I wish I could keep you forever, just for myself.” He closed his eyes but soon, he felt her shift on the bed. She lay down and pulled him to lay his head on her chest. 

“You say it as if it’s impossible.” She answered.

“I told you. I am away most of the time and this mission is coming to an end soon. I will have to leave.”

“What if we get married?”

Lucien’s eyes couldn’t have snapped wider.

But today, he could hardly keep them open. 

“Petite fleur…” He addressed the tombstone, as if Marie could still hear him. “Je suis désolé, mon amour.”

[Little flower… I am sorry, my love.]

Later that day, when he was alone in his room, drinking again, Lucien heard a knock on his door.

 “Go to hell.”

“L, it’s me.”

Lucien sighed. He recognised that voice. He stood up from the carpet and opened the door. 

“L? Hi…”

Lucien returned to sit on the sofa, the bottle of whiskey hadn’t left his hand. 

“What do you want?”

“Just to offer my condolences.” Fred closed the door and came to sit next to his French friend, who took a gulp of the bottle straight. He was still wearing his black attire, although the collar of the shirt was open and the buttons were undone. Seeing his old time colleague so disheveled made Fred frown. "I've never seen you like this before, pal… I thought you were the kind of sailor to have one woman in every harbour…"

Lucien raised dangerously piercing eyes to him. He did not like Fred's comment.

"Sorry. Didn't mean it to sound bad or anythin'. Is there anythin’ I can do?”

“Help me quit.”

“Yeah, you should quit your drinkin’, pal.”

“I did not mean it for the drinking.”

Fred’s eyebrows jumped. 

“You wanna quit your job?”

Lucien nodded.

“It killed one too many.” He took a generous gulp of the whiskey that now dripped at the corner of his lips. He wiped the mess with the back of his forearm.

“L, you know you can’t just quit. Besides, I was comin’ to talk to you about it.”

Finally, Lucien raised his eyes to his colleague. 

“We got some work to do. Well, you have.” The American got a cigarette pack out of his jacket and offered one to Lucien who winced and shook his head. Instead, the Frenchman went to grab his own cigarette case and let Fred light one for him. “Ah, yeah, you like yours French, eh…”

They puffed on their cigarettes and Fred looked around them. 

“Mind if I get myself a glass?”

Lucien motioned him to go ahead. The American went to the mini bar. 

“They knew up there that you’d like to retire after this. And if you don't mind me sayin', you and I aren't gettin' any younger. So they’ve sent me to suggest somethin’.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow and watched his friend grab a glass and pour some wine. He squinted to see the label and rolled his eyes, force of habit. As much as Lucien appreciated Fred, his taste in wine left a great deal to be desired…

“They say that you should get someone to work with you.”

“Non.”

“Hold on, let me finish…” The American spy joined his French colleague on the sofa again. “They say you should train a young one to replace you.”

Lucien’s eyebrows twitched. 

“Not that they’d manage to fit those big shoes of yours but, y’know, someone to replace you while you go and retire. What would you do? Go back to France, I guess?" 

The Frenchman sucked on his cigarette harder as he frowned. 

"Non."

"I knew you wouldn't like it so I told them. They're ok to give you an alternative." 

Lucien shook the cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table and Fred noticed the bruises on his hands. 

"You could drop field work completely and train the young ones."

"Pff…" Lucien exhaled the smoke from his cigarette in a long gust. "And where is the choice? Either train one or train them all? Is that the choice that the country that I have lost everything for is giving me now, hm?" 

Fred could see his friend's fingers shake. He was mad and barely holding himself back. His chest betrayed his fast and short breathing. 

"Seems so. If that's any consolation, I'm trainin' one of them kids too. He isn't bright, hasn't learnt the job like you and I, but he works hard." Fred tapped his cigarette in the ashtray and lay back on the sofa. "They're givin' you a few days to think."

"I should go and kill them." The Frenchman said calmly. "One by one. Start with their loved ones and as they wonder what kind of curse had fallen on them, I would deal with them all."

"You can't get to your Minister of Defense…!" Fred scoffed but the gaze that Lucien gave him made him stop his chuckle sharp. "L…?"

"I could." 

"But you won't… Right?" 

The Frenchman stood up and went to the door that he opened and held wide. 

"Good night to you, Fred." 

"L…?"

"I said, good night."

Fred sighed. He walked to the door but didn’t leave yet. He turned to his French colleague and looked him in the eye.

“Don’t do anythin’ you’ll regret, eh?”

Lucien exhaled a bitter sigh of smoke.

“See ya.” Fred left and the Frenchman shut the door. 

He came back to his solitude.

[burnedbyshoto]

Hi! I love your writings and I've never requested a story of any kind,i couldn't find any rules in your feed sorry in advance but i wanted to ask if you could write about bakugo,midoriya or kirishima(you can choose) for a prom au based on how the reader gets dumped by her first date and is left "crying in her prom dress" :')

it’s a prom!au bitcheS

warnings: fluff, cursing

a/n: lets goooo i loved this so much more when i was writing this!!! also my first time,,, writing for two of these characters so idk how well i did, but i tried LMAO

Bakugo Katsuki

Bakugou is already entirely annoyed. 

First of all, he found dances to be stupid. Gross sweating people everywhere, too loud music, people terribly dancing, and on top of everything else when he sweated excessively he wasn’t “allowed to use his quirk”? So how was this bullshit going to be fun for him?

But he wasn’t one to go back on his word either, he had promised Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes that he was going to go after they wouldn’t shut the hell up about him not attending. To be honest, the major reason he didn’t want to attend was because of y/n. She was going to this dance with someone else, some irrelevant extra from the business class that Bakugou didn’t know existed until y/n showed him a picture of him.

“He looks like some fucking douchebag,” Bakugou grunts as y/n takes her phone back from his hands, a laugh escaping her lips. It wasn’t her typical pretty laugh, it sounded almost hurt and Bakugou sighed rubbing his temples, this stupid girl was going to give him an aneurysm. “But I guess if you think he’s fucking decent, whatever.”

“You won’t be jealous?” Y/n teases as she flops onto his bed, her hair blanketing around her like some halo, and Bakugou just hates the way his heart jumps at the sight.

“You fucking wish I was.” Bakugou scoffs, “And don’t you dare mess up my fucking bed, dumbass.”

The words, however, are too soft, and y/n sees through the demure and pats the bedside next to her, “Don’t worry, baka, I’ll save a dance for you.”

“I never said I fucking wanted to dance with you!”

The laughter that leaves y/n lips makes Bakugou blush the tiniest amount as he sits stiffly on his bed as she continues talking about the extra details of the prom dance and Bakugou soon finds himself regretting not asking her out sooner.

So as Bakugou reaches the auditorium, he sends a quick text message to y/n:

I’m expecting a dance.

Perfect, Bakugou thinks as he repockets his phone it was the perfect amount of flirting and hears the annoying ding of your phone when you get a text message, and he freezes, “Y/n/n?” He barks into the night and is surprised to hear a suppressed sob coming from the opposite wall of stairs he didn’t walk by. But Bakugou knows that phone chime and the voice all too well and immediately storms over there, why the hell was y/n crying?

There y/n sits, on the middle stair, mascara running down her cheeks as her magical ballgown is poofed around her. She wipes away at the tears running down her face, effectively ruining the makeup on her face even more. “Why the hell are you crying?” Bakugou asks genuinely confused, not that his tone effectively presented that.

“Oh, you know…” Y/n sniffles as she attempts to smile, but fails miserably, “I got dumped by my date, not that I really li-liked him. It was just so… so em-embarrassing.” The words seem weak and altogether embarrassed, but it just pisses off Bakugou to no end.

“You’re telling me, that fucking douchebag prick dumped you on prom night? And didn’t fucking care that you are here crying like some fat baby?!” Bakugou hisses, the anger multiplying at an extremely insane amount. “Who the fuck does he think–” Bakugou is already storming in towards the building, but is stopped by y/n rising to her feet and pulling on his arm.

“It’s okay, Baku–”

“I think the fuCK NOT!” Bakugou roars back.

“I just want to enjoy the rest of tonight, please. I don’t need him to make it a memorable night!” She pleads and Bakugou hesitates, his eyes on his crush who despite looking like a wreck makes him want to follow her course of action. 

“On one condition,” Bakugou grumbles and y/n nods her head quickly, “You replace your shitty date with me.”

The smile that comes on her face is something that Bakugou is still ashamed to admit made him fully blush.

bonus!

“HEY DOUCHEBAG PRICK FACE!” Bakugou yells over the thumping music as he notices your old date standing in the corner as he swings you around while the two of you dance, something that you weirdly were really good at together. “WATCH WHAT YOU’RE MISSING, ASSHOLE!”

Entirely way too pumped on the adrenaline of dancing in front of his classmates, having you in his arms, and having so far actually enjoyed the night Bakugou slams lips against yours, his hands gripping your cheeks as he lays one on you. And the two of you melt into this kiss, as his lips drag deliciously over your own as you eagerly return the passion despite your burning cheeks.

When Bakugou pulls away, he proceeds to flip off your old date without looking his way at all, and you can hear the distant shrieks of your classmates, “Are you going to kiss me again?” You can’t help yourself from asking as Bakugou sort of just stares at you.

His lips back on yours easily answer that question.

Midoriya Izuku

You were best friends with Midoriya, a title that you hated by the way because you were in love with the hero-in-training. As a student from general studies, your relationship was often a bit on edge given that most of your classmates hated the hero studies class. But you digressed.

By popular demand, U.A. was bringing an end of the school year dance as a new tradition, something similar to what Americans had as prom. You had hinted multiple times for Midoriya to ask you to the dance, but he never did, so instead you had agreed to go with a classmate of yours that you knew liked you.

So on the big night, Midoriya had gone off and told you that he was going to get there early to help set up because he thought he would be able to use his quirk for set up, and that was important training or something of the sort. You, however, stayed in your dorm room, sitting prettily in your prom dress waiting for your date to show up. Your eyes glancing over at the clock on your phone and saw the dance was going to start anytime soon, but still, no date.

It was soon an hour into the dance and you had hot tears rolling down your face as you realized just what was happening. You had been stood up.

You didn’t exactly know how to feel, it wasn’t as if you were expecting to fall in love with this boy at the end of the night, but it sure didn’t feel nice to be abandoned. So, gathering up your depressed emotions, you wiped away your runny makeup and stood up, ready to go to this dance alone.

Okay with your appearance, you opened the door, your eyes focusing on the hand that was centimeters away from knocking on your face.

“Midoriya-kun?” You squeak as the hand is ripped away from your face, the curly-haired boy profusely apologizing as he took several steps back.

“Y/l/n-chan!” He cries from against the hallway, “I just saw that you weren’t there, but that your date was, and well, I went to go ask him where you were because I had requested your favorite song to play. But you weren’t there. Your date told me that you weren’t interested in him so you didn’t go, but you were so excited last night that it just seemed wrong, so of course, I came to check on you because it’s–why are you crying?”

Tears are now flowing down your face and it managed to stop Midoriya’s rambling as he was now by your side, wiping away your tears, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, y/l/n-chan.”

A garbled laugh escapes your lips as Midoriya quickly works to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined, “He stood me-me up,” You cry as Midoriya envelopes you in a hug, and there the two of you stand in formal outfits until your sobs turn into hiccups. “I’m not even mad about it, but I was just so embarrassed because I know he has a crush on me… does that mean I can’t even get the guys who like me to like me?” You ramble into Midoriya’s shoulder as his comforting touches rub your back gently.

“Are American dances this dramatic?” You can’t help but ask as a laugh escapes Midoriya’s lips.

“Considering every high school rom-com of theirs ends with a dramatic prom experience, I’m going to say yes.” Midoriya teases as he breaks the hug and wipes tears off your cheeks again. “But, this can’t be the end of the night for you, I won’t allow it!”

“I never said I wasn’t going!”

“Good, because from here on out, we’ll be each other’s dates, and we’ll have so much fun!”

Your breath hitches when Midoriya goes to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you flush as he grabs you by the hand and the two of you are now racing to get to the dance.

bonus!

You swayed in Midoriya’s arms, the two of you slow dancing to the slow version of Latch by Sam Smith, an English song that you found to be romantic.

You pressed your cheek against Midoriya’s neck, his left hand in yours, and his right one holding you close. A smile was permanently fixed on your face as Midoriya had taken it upon himself to sing every song that was played, even when he didn’t know a single word.

The English that escaped his lips were choppy, heavily accented, and tone-deaf but you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with every passing second. You only hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell as you were pressed up against him.

“I forgot to tell you something earlier,” Midoriya says as the words are getting too hard for him to improvise.

“That you’re leaving the hero industry to pursue a life as a recording artist?” You tease him as laughs escaping the both of you.

“I would be pretty amazing, but no, sadly that’s not it.” Midoriya pulls away slowly, and you whine a bit from the lack of contact, but come to stare into his eyes. “I j-just wanted to say you look, well um, you look beautiful tonight.”

Maybe it was because he had been holding you close all night, or maybe it was the spark in the air because of it being a dance, or maybe it was because you could no longer keep your feelings to yourself, but you leaned towards Midoriya and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, handsome.” You whisper as you return to your old position, and you flushed hearing the roaring heartbeat of Midoriya in your ear as the two of you continued to dance.

Kirishima Eijirou

You tipped the glass of punch into your mouth, staring at the dance floor with immense irritation. You had been asked to prom and had been enjoying the night with the said date until he had abandoned you for some other girl. It wasn’t that it was a big deal, but you just believed there was no point of being asked just to be abandoned.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” A voice asks from behind you, and you choke on your drink momentarily as you turn around to see your classmate Kirishima standing behind you, two cups of punch in his hand, and a curious expression on his face. “I saw y/dates/n over there? Did he make you get your own drink, that’s pretty unmanly of him.”

“Psh, I wish it was just that.” You say as you roll your eyes as you see your date now grinding with the said girl he left you for.

“Is that allowed?!” Kirishima gasps as he sees the same dance moves happening that you see as well. “That can’t be allowed!”

It shouldn’t bother you, you know that, but seeing that you couldn’t even enjoy your prom because of your date, angry tears well up in your eyes. “Well, y/l/n, I don’t know about you but–are you okay?” Kirishima jumps as he sees the tears now rolling down your face as you wipe them away pathetically.

“My date dumped me.” You bitterly admit as you turn away from Kirishima, not wanting to let him see you cry. “He asked me out by the way.” You add the last part in an attempt to make it seem like you were still the winning person there, although you were the one now crying by the sideline like some reject.

Well, in all fairness you were one.

“Did you want to dance?” Kirishima asks you, and you tense.

Kirishima and you were classmates, and yeah you were friends, but you never thought you were close enough for him to be asking you to dance. You turn around and look at Kirishima who is placing the two cups of punch back onto the table, “I was getting Sero and Kaminari punch because they’re in the middle of the floor having a break dancing competition against Mina and Shouji.”

You blink away the tears in your eyes at that detail, and you look towards where your friends are very involved in a break dancing competition. “That explains the chanting and crowds.” You mutter, but you remember his offer and shake your head, “I don’t want to ruin your night with you catering to my hurt feelings, besides don’t you have a date?”

Kirishima laughs good naturally, a hand on his neck as he shakes his head, “The girl I wanted to ask unfortunately had a date.” And your mouth opens in understanding, but you watch as he offers you his hand. “Come on, dance with me, you look too pretty tonight just to be a wallflower.”

You find yourself blushing, grateful for the dimmed setting, but you didn’t put your hand in his, “I m-mean, if you want to be a wallflower that’s okay, too! I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this!” Kirishima panics and you let out a laugh as you wipe around your eyes hopeful that you didn’t ruin your makeup.

“I’d love to dance, Kirishima.” You say as you take his hand which is now resting by his side, and take him out to the dance floor, a grin on both your faces as you danced in rhythm to the beating music.

Slowly but surely, as the night progresses you find yourself finding Kirishima’s toothy grin, weird dance moves, and terrible jokes sending a fire spreading through your body, especially when he holds you close.

“Thank you for dealing with me tonight,” You whisper as the two of you slow dance, as it was the final dance of the night.

“It was my pleasure,” Kirishima whispers back as his head rests gently on yours. “Can-can I confess something?”

You hum softly, teasing him slightly as you take a while to think it through. “Well, you did put up with me for hours, I guess you can confess something.”

“The girl I wanted to ask out was- it was you,” Kirishima says softly, and you freeze, moving your head from his shoulder and stare at him. “I just couldn’t gather the courage to say something until it was too late, so that was really unmanly of me.”

You rise to your toes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “You just confessed to that right now, so I think it’s still pretty manly of you.”

The two of you stare at each other smiling as the song eventually ends, but even as the night comes to an end, you feel like something between the two of you has just started.

bonus!

“TAKE THIS!” You cackle maniacally as you and Kirishima are throwing eggs up on your old dates balcony. Bakugou had suggested the two of you go seek revenge, and this was the best thing the two of you could think of.

“Watch this, I’m doing it without looking!” Kirishima shouts as he grabs two eggs and closes his eyes and flings the eggs, and they crack onto the windows.

“Amazing!” You laugh as you reveal the now empty carton, “Should we run now?” You whisper as the lights in the room turn on, you’re already gathering the skirt of your dress, preparing to run.

“YES!” Kirishima yells as he scoops you off the ground and takes off running.

The two of you are laughing, breathless, with smiles that seemed to be permanently plastered on your face. Eventually, you two make it back to the dorms, and he places you on your feet, and with the entire mood of the night, you can’t help but press a kiss onto his unknowing lips.

The two of you still completely as you break apart, your cheeks flushed as you can’t believe what you did. “I-I’m sorry!” You stutter as you begin to ramble about how you didn’t wish to ruin anything, but you stop as his hands touch your cheeks gently.

“Please don’t apologize,” Kirishima mumbles as he presses another kiss to your lips and you melt against him instantly.

a/n: hope you guys liked it, and sorry this is a day late, my posting schedule was a bit pushed back!

[blazenekofox]

More English Amity

I did more to the English Amity idea, made it more like a story that needs work

“Boscha what are we doing here” 14 year old Amity looked to her pink dyed “friend” as they entered the gym, “we're here to see who will be cheering for me”, Amity just shakes her head and looks up, “I could be studying, or reading a good book”  Boscha looks at her in disbelief, “I can't believe a jock like you” Amity just stares darkly back “anyway you can't see cute cheerleaders in cute outfits doing flips in you're geeky books” Amity shakes her head and smirks, “you're such a perv, I be worried what you would be doing if I wasn't here”  Boscha goes red and about to reply Amity points at something “isn't that one of your teem mates” Boscha looks “what!” leaning forwards “what's Skara doing down there” Amity smirks bigger, “seems she's gotten sick of you bossing the teem around” Boscha shoves Amity "fuck you" Amity giggles a little at seeing Boscha a little miffed, the two stop when they hear, "you think that's an impressive trick" both look and a tan skin girl "check out this" and lifts her eye lids, Amity stares and giggles, Boscha says "yea she's a total loser" Amity blushes “y-yea” then looks away all red thinking “why did I find that cute, it was gross” “god I hope that weirdo doesn't get in” Boscha grins Amity looks darkly at her “don't worry, no one will be cheering a pervert on” “yea you're right” Boscha gives it a sec, “I am not a perv!” all the cheerleaders look up, Boscha goes bright red, and laughs nervously, Amity walks out also bright red at being seen.

Latter Amity sees the oddball of a girl having trouble closing her locker the girl jumps and Amity force it close, “thanks” when the girl looks who it was “oh it's you” Amity scratches the back of her head nervously “yea me” the girl looks at her oddly, “aren't you friends with Boscha” Amity is taken back by this thinking “Boscha what did you do” “I guess you could call her my friend, but she's a bit of a twat” the girl starts giggle Amity just smiles nervously, the girl looks up “sorry, it's just your accent is so cute, I'm never met an Australian” grinning Amity goes bright red thinking “did she just say I sound cute” “emm, I'm not Australian, I'm English” the girls smile fell, “oh god I'm soo sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry” Amity just smiles “it's okay, it happens all the time” both smiling, “I'm Luz by the way” “Amity Blight” Luz looks up and down making go red again, “are you in the football teem, err I mean rugby” Luz smiles sweetly Amity thinking “why does she have to be so cute” “emm no, also American football isn't like rugby, for one thing, we don't hold back in our tackles” grinning Luz looks at her oddly “but what if you got hurt” “you get up back in the game, also we trained to know how to tackle and not hurt someone badly” the two keep talking

Amity finds out that Boscha had been picking on Luz again, so she goes too the football pitch to find her “oi Boscha!” Boscha looks up and bang, Amity tackles Boscha, shoves Amity off “what the hell Ams, and that was too hard” "what's the point in the armour if you can't take a tackle?" Boscha looks at her miffed "there is no way you tackle that hard in rugby"  Amity smirks “you're right, we hit harder” Boscha just looks at her not believing her shakes her head “can't you see I'm busy” and goes back to what she's doing

Amity is standing outside Luz's house passing in front of the door, saying “so she invited me to watch Azura with her, this doesn't change anything, it doesn't mean that she fancies me” the door creeps open making Amity jump, “Amtiy!” Luz tackles her into a hug “h-hay Luz” Luz leading her in “I'm so sorry, I over slept and forgot to get you some tea”Amity giggles at this, “it's okay, any way I'm not a big tea drinker” smiling at how sweet Luz is being at trying her best, Luz knows that Amity misses England, Amity always finds it so cute when British things for her but doing something wrong or not understanding it hits her heart is in the right place every time, like the time Amity explained that the thing Luz is holding is called a cookie in England not a biscuit, when Amity was eating a chocolate hobnob, which is a biscuit and not a cookie, the face Luz pulled was so cute, in the end Amity explained that cookies are a type of biscuit, this is not too say doesn't get her Amity own back, as doing the same to Luz, sometimes by accident sometimes purpose, it's clear that they love to tease each other.

It's Valentine's day Luz walks too her friend Amity and sees that her locker is fall of cards and candy, and Amity is sorting them out, Luz looks down a bit sad, and says "someones popular" making Amity jump, turning and smiles, "yea happenes every year, must accent" Luz smiles back "it is a cute accent" Amity going red and goes back to sorting them, as they talk, "I wish I got Valentine's day card", "I'm sure you got at least one" Amity says looking a bit red, Luz is about to say something but Boscha pushes past Luz saying get out the way, Luz looking cross, and Amity doesn't say anything, which is odd, she normally says something, Boscha then starts to brage "hay Ams look I got 10 cards, how many did you get 3" "Boscha can't you see that I'm busy" Amity moves showing Boscha that she has at least 30, "why do I always get so meny" Amity says grining at Boscha, Luz does a little giggle at seeing Boscha face going off saying she was just lucky, Amity grabs her books and says "come on Luz lets go" Luz can see that she's a little as they walked she says "didn't get a card off you sercet crush?" Amity not look at Luz "seems it" "I'm sure he's just being shy" then teases "you do have a cute accent" Amity goes red and does a nervous laugh and says "you mean she right" Luz stares "you're gay" Amity giving a nervous laugh again hoping that she didn't give her self away "yea" "why didn't you tell me" "we never talked about sexuality" Luz humms at that this, "I'm bi by the way" Luz says with a grin, "the way you look at Ed and Em when you met them, I be shocked if you said you where ace" Amity sounding annoyed, Luz smiles "they are cute, but a bit too into pranks" Amity smiles at this "who trys to find there sister's diary to show the school" Amity smiles at that, when Luz gets too her locker she finds a card and squeals, "I got one I got one" Luz looks at it, and it has no name, opening it, Luz stares then asks "Amity can you read this the cursive writing hard to read", Amity jumps at this and goes red as a tomato, "shouldn't you get your mum too read it" going very shy and has a nervous smile "pleases I need to know what it says" Amity sighs, and reads the letter, leaving out who sent it, as it was hard sending this letter, saying she sent it, was going to far for Amity

“Luz I get that you love Azura, I do too, but this isn't good idea” both of them are in the woods, Luz looking for snakes, “come on Amity, what better way to show off Gildersnake then a real snake” Amity shacks her head, “what comes to mind, a toy snake, hell a hose would be better then a real snake” “how would a hose be better” “oh I don't know, maybe hoses aren't venomous, people aren't scared of them, also you aren't taking them from there home” Luz stops looking, and looks at Amity a little sad, “maybe your right” Luz putting a snake she just found down, Amity sighs, “hay it isn't all bad, we could go find a rubber snake and look up YouTube on how to make it look more like Gildersnake” this makes Luz smiles at this,excitedly “yes yes, lets go!” grabbing Amity's and pulling her

Amity walks too Luz's home and knocks on the door, and older looking Luz answer it “oh Amity sorry but Luz isn't here, she's gone out too the movies” “hi, sorry I needed to ask you something” the older woman look her, seeing Amity is nervous “and that be?” Amity sighs “I-I don't know anyone that can cook and I” Amity going bright red making the older woman smile, “that is would you help me cook” Amity won't even look at her face “is this for Luz” “well, err yes I say it is” the older woman smiles “I love to help” Amity smiles at this “th-thank you Camila”.

don’t know why one bit had that line at the side, or how to get rid of it, as it’s not there on open office

[irkimatsu]

Okay, after way too much delay - it's my Eurovision 2021 Final Ranking! This took me a while for a lot of factors - took extra hours at work to make sure I could get time off this week, some recent family events... and most relevantly, the fact that this year is so damn good that no matter what, I knew someone was going to get ripped off by ending up somewhere in the bottom half. Just know that being toward the bottom of the list doesn't necessarily mean I dislike it, especially this year - it just means I like other things more. This year is going to be an absolute bloodbath. I am both excited and terrified.

Try not to take my ranking too seriously, by the way - I'm an American who unironically listens to stuff like Scooch and Dolly Style. I'm not exactly a seasoned music critic. I just know what sort of music makes the happiness center of my brain light up, what the hell is music theory

Ranking made with the sorter at http://esc.gerbear.com/sorter2021.htm, then slightly adjusted when it put some songs concerningly low on the list. Okay, so I cheated a little

Firstly, in the interest in completion - if Belarus didn't get disqualified, they'd be in the big fat 40 rank, with a big bold "Hate" right above. Fuck that song. I've only listened to it once and am so glad I have no obligation to acknowledge it any further. Those fucking lyrics. Mother of Christ. Fuck you guys.

I also offer my condolences to Armenia for their having to bow out this year. I'm sure whatever you guys sent, it couldn't have possibly been worse than "Chains On You".

Now, for the songs that actually matter:

Indifferent:

39 – Spain - “Voy a quedarme” by Blas Cantó: Welp, already I’m gonna get shot. I can’t remember how this song sounds at all. I know it’s tender and genuine and sweet and everything… I just… kinda don’t care. Nothing to say. I liked his entry last year even more, and even that was pretty damn dull. Just not destined to be a Blas Cantó fan, I guess!

38 - North Macedonia – “Here I Stand” by Vasil: I’m with most other rankings I’ve seen; what the hell is this? I at least kinda remember it, which is more than I can say for poor Spain, but oh my god it’s so boring. I really liked “You” last year! What the hell happened, Vasil?

37 – Albania - “Karma” by Anxhela Peristeri: Another “oops” from me, huh. It’s another one I immediately forget about the instant it ends. I at least don’t remember it boring the crap out of me, hence it placing higher than Spain and Macedonia, but I still can’t say anything nice about it – or anything at all, really – so I’ll leave it this low. I acknowledge that I’m in the minority, I won’t protest if it qualifies, but personally, it’s not my pick.

36 – Georgia – “You” by Tornike Kipiani: Give him points for passion, I suppose! At least I’m not laughing at him like I was last year. On the other hand, less ridiculous also means more boring. Points for earnestness, but this is just another song that goes right over my head.

35 – Portugal – “Love Is On My Side” by The Black Mamba: An English song from Portugal? That’s new. Too bad it hasn’t rescued the song from the darkest depths of Boring. I will confess that I spice it up a little by associating it with Homura from Osomatsu-san, thus rescuing it from the deepest pits of my ranking list… but it’s still stuck down here. Portugal and I have never gotten along well Eurovision-wise. I’ve come to accept that.

34 – Slovenia – “Amen” by Ana Soklič: I’m gonna call this a song that I respect more than I like. She’s got a great voice, I can’t deny that… but when I’m ranking this purely based on what I’d go out of my way to listen to, this one falls flat. I warned you at the beginning that I have no taste! I’m not normally into straightforward ballads, the religious connotations are lost on me… this isn’t the song for me.

33 – Austria – “Amen” by Vincent Bueno: Back to back “Amen”s! Tip for getting me to like your Eurovision entry, apparently, is “don’t call your song Amen”. It’s a ballad, earnest and trying but overall not my type of music. I’m running out of ways to say that. Breakup song, a tad bitter, we’ve all heard this sort of song so many times before. It doesn’t stand out, and I think it’d be a waste of a spot in the final.

At least, I thought this was a breakup song when I first wrote this, but apparently it’s about the death of a loved one…? I would say that makes me hate the bitterness, but… given how I’m handling a death in my own family right now… god, I don’t know. I just can’t handle this song, not at any time but especially not now. It doesn’t even provide catharsis like a song later on in the list. It stays this low regardless of its meaning, I just don’t like it, I’m sorry, moving on.

…” 'Cause it all feels like you didn't even try to save us, all this time wasted on a lie”… ugh, my personal problems…

32 – Switzerland – “Tout l'Univers” by Gjon’s Tears: Another one I respect more than I like, and another opinion I’m gonna get my ass beaten for, I’m sure. I respect the artistry, but this is so far removed from anything I’d ever listen to on purpose. It might have landed even lower if I wasn’t afraid of pissing people off. I’ll understand if it wins, but I’ll also be hoping for most anything else.

31 – Russia – “Russian Woman” by Manizha: I don’t get it. Sometimes it’s pleasant enough to listen to, but overall I don’t get it. It’s unique, I’ll give it that! I understand why it won its national final, and why so many people enjoy it! But for me, it doesn’t quite cross that line between “interesting” and “enjoyable”. I'm not Russian - this isn't for me, and it wasn't supposed to be. Though I will confess that there may be some bias at play here. God, I miss Little Big…

Okay:

30 – Estonia – “The Lucky One” by Uku Suviste: The voice is okay, the music is okay, I like how the bitterness is handled here more than in Austria’s… but this is still as high as I can go on this one. It’s serviceable, but this year has so much better to offer.

29 – Sweden – “Voices” by Tusse: Sweden really does like sending the same song over and over again, huh? I don’t hate it, but it does strike me as a lesser “Too Late For Love”, sound wise. Sweden almost never takes risks, and it’s causing me to look over them more and more with every year. I respect it too much to put it in the “Indifferent” category, but given how the rest of my ranking played out, this the best I can do for it. (But again, do not trust the opinions of someone who teethed on cheesy Europop and fondly remembers when Sweden was flooded with the stuff…)

28 – Belgium – “The Wrong Place” by Hooverphonic: Once again, Hooverphonic help Belgium fill the role of Eurovision’s “Most Likely To Appear In A Bond Movie” song. It’s fine. It’s a song! I don’t know what else to say about it! It does its job well enough, it’s just not really a job I care for that much.

27 – Ireland – “Maps” by Lesley Roy: It’s cute enough! A cute little radio tune. It’s no “Story Of My Life”, though. If “22” couldn’t qualify then this probably won’t, either, and I can’t say I’ll miss it all that much. Still pleasant enough when it comes up on the shuffle.

26 – Bulgaria – “Growing Up Is Getting Old” by Victoria: I admit it, this ranks as high as it does because of anime and that’s basically it. If I was still doing plain category sortings this would have landed straight in “Biased”. My favorite anime is about a bunch of 20-somethings learning that growing up sucks and trying as hard as possible to avoid it, and I first heard this song around the same time that I watched that show’s relatively melancholy season finale, so it ended up sticking with me on that note. Don’t have much to say about it musically, just that it makes me picture sextuplets crying and that’s one of my hobbies, so I’ll grant it an “Okay”. (It may also worth noting that if I heard this song before 2019, in the state my life was in before then it would have probably left me too inconsolable to listen to it more than once. Growing up is growing old indeed!

…it’s also worth noting that after I wrote this blurb, a major event happened that really enforced that growing up is getting old, so I listened to this quite a bit for a few days, among some other non-Eurovision songs. I’m probably gonna have an emotional breakdown on Thursday when this one starts. So, um, look out for that, guess. Between this one and Austria’s, I swear to god…)

25 – Italy – “Zitti e buoni” by Måneskin: I’ve been trying to get this one to rank higher, I really have, but its inability to crack the top 20 just says a lot about how damn good this year is. It sounds great, it’s very well done, and I wouldn’t hate to see it win! It’s earned its popularity. Everything holding it back in my own personal ranking is just that, personal – I do lose something when I can’t sing along or understand the lyrics, and there’s another rock song this year that I like way better. Still wishing you guys the best!

24 – Netherlands – “Birth Of A New Age” by Jeangu Macrooy: This song has a great style that I respect a lot. The message, the vibe – even if it’s not a culture I’m a part of, I feel and appreciate the hell out of it, and I really hope it does well. I don’t understand why so many people seem to think it’s not interesting! It may not be the sort of thing I’d go out of my way to listen to, but I’m glad it’s here. Catch me singing out “Yu no man broko mi” on Saturday! It’s been a while since I’ve given a shit about a host country’s entry, so I’m really glad for this one.

23 – Romania - “Amnesia” by Roxen: I’ll admit something else unpopular – I hated “Alcohol You” last year. Didn’t see what the big deal was at all. It sounded okay, I guess, but the lyrics were so pretentious and awful, and I’ve never liked the topic of “I love you even though you have no redeeming qualities whatsoever and you make me feel like shit”. But it seems like in that year, Roxen has discovered that self-love is important, actually, and it’s not worth it spending your time on some shitbag who consistently disappoints you. I appreciate it for that alone. Character growth! Plus, I feel the whole thing of “forgetting how to love yourself because everyone around you sucks”. It’s not the perfect song, not by a long shot, but it has a nice melody, and Roxen has a nice voice. It’s good to hear her using that voice on something I don’t find obnoxious.

22 – Norway – “Fallen Angel” by TIX: Okay, I’ll admit it, this is one where I watched the live video the first time I heard the song, and I was too busy laughing at his outfit to take the song seriously. Jesus Christ, dude, what the hell. Well, that’s Eurovision for you, and the more I listened to it, the more I admitted to myself that I’m a sucker for “I love you but letting you go for your own good, not sure what I ever offered you in the first place” type songs. Knowing the song is inspired by his own disability and self-loathing really twists that knife, to the point where I feel bad that I almost threw this at an anime character. I know I’m usually cold on songs that try to evoke emotions about the singer’s personal problems – Germany 2018, and this year’s Austrian entry – but this one really works for me. Only reason it’s in “Okay” tier is because of its competition – it’d rank way higher in a weaker year.

21 – France – “Voila” by Barbara Pravi: I like a good waltz, I guess! It’s a unique number, and the French language sounds nice, especially with the music. It’s yet another example of how this year is filled with so many interesting entries that I appreciate the hell out of. God bless this diverse year! (Or maybe everything just sounds so good to me because last year’s cancellation left me in withdrawal.) I expect a really nice performance for this one – this song isn’t one you can perform while just standing there, especially not during that speedup toward the end.

20 – Australia – “Technicolour” by Montaigne: That song that sounds like it’s about stripping if you don’t know that she’s saying cloaks. (Guilty as charged.) It’s catchy and fun, and I really love it when it first starts… but unfortunately, it does wear out its welcome toward the end of things. It’s a good party song, just a little repetitive. I still like it just fine, and wouldn’t mind seeing her in the final this year! Hope the performance is colorful and sparkly, it’d suit the song well

Like:

19 – Germany – “I Don’t Feel Hate” by Jendrik: I know stereotyping is bad but I was not remotely surprised to find out that Jendrik is gay. This song is pure gay sass, and god, I love every minute of it. I fully expect it to fall on its ass – this wouldn’t make it to the final if it wasn’t an automatic qualifier – but I’ll have a grand old time watching it! The sarcastic lyrics, the cheerful little ukulele, the middle finger costume… this song is a delight. Only thing that I think really brings it down is that weird spoken bit that interrupts the song. That’s so annoying, brings me right out of it. And I did purposely rank it below songs that aren’t complete shitposts. But thank you for your existence, Jendrik, your contribution to Eurovision is much appreciated.

18 – Israel – “Set Me Free” by Eden Alene: I said it this year and I’ll say it again this year, Eden Alene is a goddess of a woman. Absolutely gorgeous. Appreciation for pretty women aside, it’s a fun party song in a sea of fun party songs! I really do like it, I like her voice, but there’s so much else this year that drowns it out – not much stands out here compared to later entries on the list. Still a good song, though.

…and I do not expect for an instant that this is going to make it to the final. …my personal ranking is based on how the song sounds, okay? Just the song. Just the song. Nothing else. Just the song. Anyway…

17 – United Kingdom – “Embers” by James Newman: What’s this? A UK entry I don’t find bland as off-white paint? That doesn’t happen often! I didn’t like his entry last year, romantic ballad bla bla bla whee, but I’m always down for a good party song. It’s a little generic and radio friendly, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not fun as hell to sing along with!

16 – Greece – “Last Dance” by Stefania: I really liked last year’s “Supergirl”, but figured it didn’t have too much of a chance because it struck me as being a little too teen poppy to be taken entirely seriously. It seems like Greece thought so, too, because they’ve ramped it up with this year’s entry. They’re not playing around anymore, sending a grand, powerful song that, like “Embers”, is fun as hell to belt. This is another one I’m really looking forward to the live performance for – the music video is gorgeous, and I hope they capture that same majesty on stage!

15 – Moldova – “Sugar” by Natalia Gordienko: Oh, Moldova, I’m so glad you guys decided to be completely batshit again this year. I’ve missed your nonsense so much. Dancing ice cream cones. Cake men. This video is glorious. And the song goes well with the insanity! A catchy dance tune that can only be improved with downright insane staging. Please let the dancing ice cream cones be on stage, I’m begging you

14 – Latvia – “The Moon Is Rising” by Samanta Tina: A unique electronica number backed with a powerful as hell voice. I can see where all the wubbing would get on people’s nerves, but personally, I love it! I love the voice, I love the attitude, Samanta just oozes confidence, and if she doesn’t make it to the final it’s not gonna be because she didn’t give it her goddamn all.

13 – Poland – “The Ride” by RAFAL: Why is this one so unpopular? You people don’t know how to have fun. Yeah, yeah, last year’s “Empires” was a powerful song… but I like my club nonsense much more, so I’m favoring this one. Yet another song that gets me pumped – this whole Contest is gonna leave me with a smile on my face, there’s so much good party music

12 – Azerbaijan – “Mata Hari” by Efendi: Yeah, they’re basically just sending “Cleopatra” again, but “Cleopatra” was so goddamn good that I can’t even blame them for it. This song needed a chance to compete, and I’m glad it’s getting it again this year. I like it so much that I can even forgive the line about being a “godless”. Oh, Europop, don’t you ever change.

11 – Cyprus – “El Diablo” by Elena Tsagrinou: Huh, I didn’t know Cyprus had perfected their Lady Gaga cloning technology. Neat. More seriously, the early 2010’s club vibe of this song is exactly my jam, enough that I can forgive the “I’m in love with a horrible person” theme. (I think I forgive that theme a lot more from catchy party songs than heartfelt ballads I’m actually supposed to feel for.) Hell, I even like the creepy chanting! Sure, it’s a little cheesy, but cheese is always a good ingredient when used in moderation.

(How many songs are we going to get this year, not just in Eurovision, about wanting to fuck devils? I mean, not that I don’t get it… mmm, Akuma Ichimatsu… um. Anyway.)

10 – Czech Republic – “Omaga” by Benny Cristo: And here we enter the top ten of a strong year, where I’d love to see any of them win! Benny, what is with that title. Why. Ah well, like I said earlier, I do like moderate amounts of cheese, and this song is more than fun enough to have earned itself a ridiculous lyric or two. It’s unique, I’ll give it that! The song is just so bouncy and fun that I manage to ignore how pushy the singer is. Another one I expect big things from the staging for.

9 – Lithuania – “Discoteque” by The Roop: Ignoring the current events that surely inspired the song, I do love the more generic “party song for introverts” read on it – if only you knew how many one-person dance parties I’d had in my own house. This song speaks to me deeply. I can’t even begin to call it a joke song; I think it’s doing exactly what it set out to do, and it’s doing it oh so well. God, those synths. Totally okay with dancing alone!

8 – Iceland – “10 Years” by Daði og Gagnamagnið: I want Daði Freyr to adopt me. I don’t even care that he’s younger than me. He’s just such an earnest, fun guy, and I love his 8-bit aesthetic! And come on, he submitted a song about how much he loves his wife! If I ever stop loving this song it’s because my heart shriveled and died. Love isn’t dead, it’s just in chiptune now. I will throw things if this doesn’t make it into the final, do you all have no souls, this is too damn cute

7 – Serbia – “Loco Loco” by Hurricane: Another group I am so excited to see return, because I adored “Hasta La Vista”. I don’t know if I like this one quite as much, but it’s still catchy as hell! I love trying to sing along with it despite not knowing a word of Serbian.

6 – Croatia – “Tick-Tock” by Albina: Another catchy-ass club song! What more can I say? I love how much of this stuff we got this year. I will absolutely be screaming “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go!” Oh god that was cheesy… I’ve been working on this ranking for too long. Don’t know what else to say about this one, just that I adore it. Just barely missed the top 5.

Love:

5 – Malta – “Je Me Casse” by Destiny: This girl’s got pipes– not surprised to hear she won the Junior contest before! I get major “Toy” vibes from this song, and you all know just how much I adored that one. Aaa, those horns! Expecting big things from you, Destiny! We may have our winner!

4 – San Marino – “Adrenalina” by Senhit – As much of a soft spot I had for last year’s “Freaky”, I don’t think it was gonna make it into the final, unless Senhit had the blessing of the same angels who were looking out for Serhat in 2019. This one, though? San Marino tasted the final two years ago and they are never giving it up again! This song goes hard! Love the song, love the video’s aesthetic, I even kinda like Flo Rida’s rap, even though I’m still baffled by the idea that I have been regularly listening to a song featuring Flo Rida on purpose. I don’t know what he’s doing here but I’m glad he is. Please, please make it to the final, San Marino! You clearly want the hell out of it this year! Favorite club song in a year of amazing club songs.

3 – Finland – “Dark Side” by Blind Channel: After spending about five seconds disappointed that Finland wouldn’t be sending Pandora this year, I gave this song a shot, and was not expecting what it gave me. I feel like an angsty middle schooler again, and it is bliss. This is everything Hatari wanted to be, but unlike Hatari who just confused me, I absolutely love the hell out of this song. …some of those lyrics, though. “27 Club, headshot, we don’t wanna grow up”? Yikes. But as dark and questionable as it might be, I can’t help but get pumped when I hear it. Definitely my favorite rock song of the year – sorry, Italy!

2 – Denmark – “Øve os på hinanden” by Fyr & Flamme: I love you, 1983. I don’t care how dated it is when my entire soul consists of a disco ball. The song’s so damn cute! This is the one member of my top 5 that I’m most terrified of losing – I know it’s not popular, with everyone calling it dated, but my top 5 always has that dated song that I love the hell out of becauseit sounds so classic. The translated lyrics are adorable, too. Even if you guys flame out in the semi, you’ll live on in the disco in my heart.

Favorite:

1 – Ukraine – “Shum” by Go_A: Holy fucking shit. There’s something about the blending of traditional and electronic that gets me hyped – see KEiiNO – and this one does not disappoint. The last minute of this is the best minute of Eurovision this year, and god, the buildup! I don’t even know Ukrainian but I am trying my damnedest to get the lyrics down, phonetically, at least. You know that “dancing goths” meme video? That’s me whenever this song comes on, especially during that speed up. Love the hell out of it. Could Ukraine be on its way to another victory already? I sure hope so, because this song fucking rules. Definitely checking out the rest of the discography someday, if all of their songs are in this folktronica style then they’ve gotta be a treat to listen to. Go Ukraine!

Ideal Qualifiers (favorite of each semi in bold):

Semi 1

Australia

Azerbaijan

Croatia

Cyprus

Israel

Lithuania

Malta

Norway

Romania

Ukraine Semi 2:

Czech Republic

Denmark

Finland

Greece

Iceland

Latvia

Moldova

Poland

San Marino

Serbia

This is definitely not what's going to happen - there is no universe where Switzerland and Sweden don't make it - but it'll be interesting to compare the reality to my hopes.

Let's go, Eurovision 2021

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - emilyshurley

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

Name: Emily

Age: 21

Location: India

URL: @emilyshurley​

Why did you choose your URL: Okay this is embarrassing. I was trying to sign up for AO3, so I did a quick Google search for two things, what's the name of Dean's daughter? Emma, and Chuck's last name, Shurley

I accidentally typed Emma as Emily and that's it. 

There was a very real chance that my url would have been emmashurley. Thoughts on that one? Maybe I'll change it someday. 

What inspired you to become a writer: Being an only child who wasn't allowed to watch tv for more than 2 hours. And not having friends, that also had something to do with it. 

How long have you been writing: Fanfiction? 4 years (was on Wattpad before this). In general? 12 years, I guess... I remember showing my first short story to my english teacher in 6th class. 

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? Cooking, eating what I made. I don't get to cook often so I enjoy it when I can. Other than that, college takes up most of my time. Currently getting my bachelor's degree in science. It's my last year, will probably get master's in zoology next. 

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? 4 years

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Way too freaking many. But I write for marvel and I'm thinking of re-posting the very first vampire diaries fanfic I wrote. But are people still into vampires?

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? Mostly journalling, but I occasionally take part in writing competitions and things.

Favorite published author: Amish Tripathi (He mainly writes Hindu mythological fantasy? If that's anyone's jam here)

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Leap of faith by Danielle Steel. Not for any reason other than the fact that it was the first novel I ever read. My grandfather was reading it, and I told him I wanted to read something too so he gave it to me. 

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):Platonic fluff!!!! Give me all the fics of best friends being adorable. 

Favorite piece of your own writing: Once upon a Winchester. But I gave myself so little canon to work with that I think I'll continue it after the show ends. I have to know the ending to continue it. 

Most underrated fic you have written: Letters to no one. For any marvel fans, it's a two part fic in Natasha's POV, just some letters she thought no one will ever read. 

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Project Latrodectus, again marvel. I kinda feel bad for mentioning my marvel fics so much but I'm pulling influences from the story of Eklavya in Mahabharata, which is a Hindu epic so complex that I won't attempt to explain it here. 

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): Ahh that's a tough one. I love so many people. At this point, mentioning Myin ( @myinconnelly1 ) feels like cheating because another who has ever looked at my posts can tell she's my favourite human. So I'll try not to mention her further. 

Otherwise, Beka ( @impala-dreamer), Kate ( @katehuntington​ ), @katymacsupernatural and other hoomans I can't remember because I have been away from Tumblr for a while. 

Favorite Fic from another writer: Blood and Honey by @kittenofdoomage. And the proposal by @katymacsupernatural

Favorite character to write: Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Supernatural: I have never written Charlie but I'd love to. 

Favorite Pairing to write: So they are platonic ships but Dean and Charlie, the boys and Garth and Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. 

Least favorite character to write (and why): Easily John Winchester. I don't know, my brain just can't process his character. Like no matter how many times I try, John just sounds off. 

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? Irl, my grandfather. On tumblr, Myin. I know, I know I said I won't mention her but Myin is my support system here. No matter what goes on in my brain, no idea is too crazy for her. 

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? To make people feel less alone because I think that feels like shit. My goal moving forward is to write more Indian reader and LGBTQ reader fics because I think not many people in the fandom (that I know of) are writing those fics. 

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: Four, all of them are series. Technically 2 are my ongoing ones. And one is an MCU x SPN crossover that's taking a while to plan. 

What are you currently working on? Nothing focusing on college these days. But will write random one shots here and there.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? My inability to write romance. No joke, I don't feel like I write it well. So I tend to write general fics and crack fics.

Best writing advice you've been given: Someone recommended the book, writing down the bones, to me a while ago. In the very first chapter it says, use a cheap notebook (so you don't feel guilty about 'bad writing') and a fast writing pen. 

Since most of my non fanfic writings are done by hand I like that advice.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Procrastination. I'm the creator of my one misery here. I push stuff till the last moment then complain about being too busy to do anything. 

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction?Smut. I can't. I don't know I like to say I don't feel comfortable writing it but the truth is I just think I'd put people off. Which is not the intended outcome. 

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): More LGBTQ+ characters/reader inserts. Why? Say for example, even though I'm bi, but my version of bisexual Dean might not be something other people would relate to and I'm scared of accidentally offending someone. 

What inspires/motivates you to write: What if scenarios. I love speculating and coming up with the context behind what we see on screen. Like an idea that I'll one day use is, what was Sam going when Dean was in hell or purgatory. Sure in one case he hit a dog and met a girl but how? 

So I want to write more general fics or like filler between the scenes we see on the screen. 

How do you deal with self doubt: By talking to people, knowing I'm not alone in this helps. And sending fics to friends before I post them. 

How do you deal with writer's block: Play the sims. What I mean is take a break, do something completely different for a while. 

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: I don't, for one shots. For series I have to have an ending or else I'll lose interest very quickly. 

Do you have any weird writing habits: Would you consider writing/planning things on paper before writing it on the computer weird? 

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I did. My very first fic on Tumblr. It was a Tony Stark x Indian!Reader fic and someone messaged me saying most content media is written for an American/Western audience. And that Tony Stark would never actually do for someone who's Indian because well Indian characters aren't primarily present in the MUC. So no one wants to read it. 

What I did about it? I deleted the fic and every backup I had of it. Because in my head they were right. All Indian get is Bruce Banner doing charity work for "all the poor Indians".

It wasn't until recently that I started talking to @desisamslut that I realised that people actually want to read about reader inserts that are like them. I mean it's called a reader insert for a reason how could I not see it?

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?When someone made a mood board for my Black Widow fanfiction. 

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Hang in there, no matter how uncommon you think what you want to write about is, you'll find an audience. I mentioned @desisamslut in another answer, the first thing she told me was she has never seen an indian reader fic, so she felt happy when she read the one I wrote recently.