#at least that’s how it was earlier in the year

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[smallfisheyes]

it's silly, you know, but you have to try it. may the grapes work.

nanami kento can’t find you when the clock strikes midnight.

there was a ruckus, the release of fireworks outside (who permitted fireworks on school premises?), and cheers of happy new year. itadori toots one of those awful noisemakers. tuna mayos and hugs are exchanged. as planned, nanami maintains a wide berth from gojo, recalling his attempts at a slobby kiss the previous year. it is a new year; the year of the snake.

but you are nowhere in sight.

why does nanami's belly feel like it's sinking? he smiles, but there is an ache in the centre of his chest. his eyes flick left and right, the festivities unfolding before his eyes. the school had been decorated by the students with the funding of gojo's shiny black card, reds and golds streaming along the walls. stuffed snakes (inumaki's idea) were thrown haphazardly onto the ground. the remnants of the party games from earlier scatter the table-clothed tables.

in your stead, shoko meets nanami's eyes. he nods, giving her a brief hug, sure to grip her just below the shoulder and just above the waist.

"happy new year," he mumbles. shoko smiles. it is politeness exchanged with a colleague and friend, but this is not how he pictured his first interaction of the year (and with whom it was shared).

kento had planned it down to the tee. your favourite wine, no more than two whiskeys, arriving just after you to seemingly rescue you from forcing yourself to yap about things you did not care about (work) with a person you could care less about (gojo). kento was meticulous. more meticulous than he was at that awful firm he worked at in his early twenties. he had to be. the moment must be perfect. you deserved a wonderful evening. yet, there was a variable he did not consider: he couldn't find you.

"ah, nanamin," shoko hums. kento steps back, offering his full attention. there's that awful look on that face of hers, one that dates back more than ten years ago. the teasing one that reminds kento he is nothing but a lost junior: a silly, unkowing little boy with punk bangs. one that is about to be berated by the scary bobbed girl with a cigarette habit. a force seizes his lungs, halting their movement. may the berating begin.

"are you looking for someone?" shoko teases. that tone. how grating.

kento sighs, his voice of defeat. "what gave it away?" no frustration laces kento's voice, only soft desperation.

"that look of yearning."

kento heaves a deeper sigh. he can't wait anymore. "where is she, shoko?"

shoko steps to the side, an evil scientist revealing her latest experiment.

when kento sees what is behind her, the world feels right.

there you are, under the table, crouched and feral. kento draws back at the sight of you: a monkey, primitive and on the hunt for food. in quick succession, large and luscious green grapes were thrown into your mouth. you were a chipmunk. you stuffed your face full of grapes before you even finished chewing. 

you were always a wonder.

shoko's voice is soft, her note of contentment complimenting kento's sudden leisure at the sight of you. "happy new year, nanamin." she pads away.

kento makes a note to gift shoko a red envelope the following day.

there you are; his little star. kento moves, crouches, and parts the red tablecloth.

"you never told me you liked grapes."

your grape-a-thon veers to a halt. absolute horror stills your chewing. you have at least five grapes in your mouth. 

kento smiles wide. a rush of warmth washes over him. he could squish you.

this too much attention from a too handsome man. you turn your head away to fend off the rush of blood to your face.

"they're soh exsensiv hare," kento makes out between your voice and the grapes. you chew rigorously, averting your eyes. You hold a hand in between your wobbly mouth and kento’s eyes, falsely creating a front to maintain your dignity. "tha’s why you don seh meh eaving them. gofo saeh he woulv give them tah me."

kento bristles. he would get grapes for you anyday. command or none.

"may i join you?"

you chew a little more in thought, grimacing as you swallow. kento tries hard not to watch your throat, but he can’t resist. 

“of course.” you’re sincere. you’ve gone shy. his heart aches. he wants to make you get bashful like this every day.

you scooch over to make room for large and long nanami kento to sit beside you under the table. he’s still wearing those winged shoes you love, but opted for a white knitted sweater that makes you wonder how soft it is. you almost reach for kento’s arm, but you draw back. you’re under the table eating grapes for a reason. you deflate. five more grapes to go.

“you don’t need to be under here with me,” you reassure kento. kento looks like a stuffy that got pounded into a too small toy chest. his neck cranes and his bottom is awkwardly sat in a cross cross. you smile. you want this to last forever. 

“i can’t let you be here alone. it’s new years.”

you wring your hands together. you need to eat four more grapes. “thanks, kento.”

you eat your grapes now, but slower. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. weren’t you supposed to eat all twelve grapes before midnight was over? you glance over at the clock. it’s already too late. 

you open your palms: four beautiful green grapes, grown and harvested in japan. when you arrived here, you hadn’t realized fruit was a luxury. fruit is difficult to grow. the majority of land is ill-suited for fruit. 

four wasted beautiful grapes.

“that’s enough grapes for tonight.” kento gently takes your hand and rests them on his own. he cups yours, creating a shield. his hands are warm. they’re so much bigger than yours. “you never needed them.”

��yes i did,” you insisted. 

kento shakes his head. “no. you don’t need any of that nonsense.”

your frown is deep. your eyes are in a different place. kento cups your hands more firmly now. “you never needed the grapes, darling.”

it’s instinct, the little “no” that forms on the tip of your tongue. it takes a second, another, to realize the precious thing kento had called you.

darling. YOU. darling?!

suddenly, you’re the one gripping kento’s hands. “what did you say?!”

kento shakes his head, patting your hand. “you make this difficult.” 

“you! you called me–” you guffaw like a fish when kento nods a tired affirmative, like it was obvious all along. “please don’t lie.”

kento’s eyes turn icy. “i would never lie to you.”

your lips wobble pathetically. you hate this man. he makes you silly and makes your heart beat too fast. he makes you want to turn away and stare all the same because he is too handsome. too kind. so him. and you had always wanted him. but the yearning? you never expected it to be returned.

“nanami kento, were you always on tiktok?”

kento throws back his head and laughs. you stare for too long. you’re allowed to now. “I have three wonderful students.”

the year of the snake will be a wonderful one.

you leave the remaining grapes for gojo. he needed them more than you.

i can't stare at this anymore please take it as it is. happy year of the snake everyone :) hissss

[anyroads]

I can't convey the insanity of how fast this fire happened. If you grew up in Southern California, you know to be prepared for wildfire evacuations and earthquakes. A lot of people have go bags, and a plan for what to pack when you have to do so quickly. But the timeline for that has always been a few hours at least, if not a day, maybe even two. This fire spread so insanely fast that people went from clear skies and no warnings to having ten minutes, or even no minutes, to grab what they could and run. People lost pets, especially cats, because there's no way to get a panicking animal into a carrier when the flames are at your door.

Most of the headlines about the Palisades fire are about what celebrities lost homes already. So I need you to understand that while yeah, the Palisades has become an upscale area and the hills have expensive houses, it was a middle class neighborhood until about 20 years ago so a lot of its residents have been there for 50 or 60 years, when homes were affordable to middle class working families. A lot of residents inherited their home from grandparents or parents who bought them when it was an affordable area. There are (were. past tense now. were.) neighborhoods full of 2-3 bedroom houses that you could have afforded if you'd been born 30 years earlier and lived in West LA. Most of the people there aren't celebrities or multi-millionaires - those people lived in houses that were built more recently and in undeveloped areas. I also need you to understand that there are several fires around LA, most of which are affecting middle and working class people. I say this because the headlines care more about celebrities and places people know from movies but it's not reflective of the extent of the damage. I say this because I know how tumblr is and this is not the time for tankie bullshit and inhumanity.

In my 9th grade science class we learned about climate change. We learned about the projected changes and disasters that we could expect in the first half of the 21st century. Yesterday I watched on a live broadcast as the classroom I learned this in went up in flames, while right wing conspiracy theorists and Trump blamed everyone and everything except climate change. This fire happened because it hasn't rained in LA for 8 months, and the Santa Ana winds were absurdly intense this week, getting up to 75mph. The LA Fire Dept had funding cut to fund the police like OP said, and hydrants ran out of water.

Embers can stay live while carried in the wind for miles, and every area with dry brush and palm trees just needs a spark right now. I know this because I learned it growing up. I'm literally watching the horror scenes that kept me up at night in high school as part of an imagined future play out in real time. This is climate change. And thank goodness it happened while Biden is still president and could declare it a federal emergency which means FEMA resources and help are available now, which will matter to all the people who are already being told to fuck off by the insurance companies they've paid fire insurance to for years. Because I have no doubt that if this happened two weeks later, all that support would be withheld as punishment for California's election results.

Southern California is on fire

In 2024, L.A. Mayor Karen Bass defunded the LA Fire Department by $17.3 million.

The LA Police Department, however, got a $138 million budget increase.

Among the firefighters, 30% of them are inmate firefighters who are risking their lives for $2 an hour. Only for them to not be able to get a job as a firefighter once they're released.

There are now 4 fires burning across Socal. The one getting the most attention is the Palisades fire which has grown to over 11,000 acres. Alongside it is the Altadena fire (over 10,000 acres), Hurst fire (700 acres), and Lidia fire (50 acres).

Due to the unprecedented Santa Ana winds, which have blown to over 100 mph, firefighters have not been able to make a dent on these fires.

A thousand homes have been destroyed. Two people lost their lives from the Altadena fires.

Instead of showing sympathy for the thousands of victims, right wing conspiracy theorists on twitter are blaming the fires on LA Fire Chief, who is a lesbian, while Trump is blaming CA Governor Gavin Newsom for not removing water from a delta that would have endangered a native species.

Not climate change. Not the Resnicks, a billionaire couple who took control of California's water supply and now use over 150 billion gallons every year for their companies.

If you're in Southern California, please download the Watch Duty app. It brings up to date information on the fires along with evacuation zones. If officials tell you to evacuate, you do it. Make sure you look up shelters and mutual aid organizations where you'll evacuate to. If you have to abandon your car, please move it to the side or leave your keys in the car so firefighters can move it out of the way.

The consequences of this disaster will be catastrophic. It's become increasingly clear that our government officials will not protect us as they would rather fill their own pockets. Stick together. Protect your community as best as you can.

Please keep Southern California in your thoughts. We're going to need them.

[takes1]

i am really in love with the way you write asahi!!!! really looking forward to part 2 of tipsy playfighting with him 😊😊😊

[final part] asahi getting rough with petite!reader

hellooooo thank you so much!!! was thiiiis 🤏close to doing a daddy kink thing, chose not to because that's kind of polarizing. like... pineapples on pizza

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / f!rec oral / asahi is the perfect dominant / submissive!reader / aftercare king / fingering / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / rough play kink / power struggle fetish / pseudo-bdsm themes / pet names / mentions of subspace / mid-sex communication / being way too loud / daichi being a great friend / 3.5k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here.

'Kind of' made you stall at the top of the stairs.

The second floor, you realized, was all bedrooms. Your legs got heavy, your heart beating like a panicked bird in a cage.

It was ironic. Your ability to handle him downstairs came naturally, but as soon as you had some privacy, it all got intimidating.

Asahi paused after turning the corner. He eased back against the wall with a breath. He glanced to the staircase one more time to make sure nobody had followed you.

"There's nothin' to help with," He laughed, rubbing the side of his stubbly face, "I just- yeah, that was a super lame excuse, actually."

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, a polite smile, trying to flex all the shivers down. Your crush on him reached its peaks and valleys throughout your years in school together. It reached a happy medium until tonight, starkly reminding you of your old, pushed-down feelings.

He was wicked cute, and that whole performance downstairs was cut too short.

A big breath led to a bigger sigh, "I really wanted to kiss you."

"Me too," You said, with almost no time to let his words settle.

Asahi covered his automatic laugh, and you shared a wholesome moment of mutual, nervous relief.

"Well, uh-," He seethed, eyes up to the ceiling, face much warmer, "If we're being totally honest-,"

The cheers downstairs cut him off. It sounded like Kageyama might have won his match, but neither of you cared.

Asahi suggested, instead, "Should we- go somewhere more private?"

Although you nodded, you weren't sure where he had in mind until he showed you into Daichi's bedroom. You raised your brow, taking in his posters, his books, the layout, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't in here.

"Oh, I made sure it was cool with him if we- um, talked, in here," He explained.

The supportive body language from those two made infinitely more sense, but you doubted it that ended at 'talking.' You kept your excitement under the surface, for now.

"Right."

He sat on the mattress, a little invested in the feel of the sheets, by the way his hand slid and prodded over the thread count. The ache between your legs was starting to make your whole body cold.

Daichi had those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and you didn't want to leave it up to Asahi to fill the silence, so you tried, "How long do y'think he's had those?"

There were at least 20, you counted. When you looked back down, he was relaxed forward, elbows rested on his knees, with his face in his hands, staring straight at you. Screw the ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickered dismissively up, "Oh, um- forever, I'm sure."

Asahi was a terrible liar. You were glad he was honest with you in the hall, because he had zero capacity for beating around the bush. His intentions were spoken for, but now they were transparent in his clouded, almost tormented eyes. He made it seem difficult to look at you without touching you.

"You said you wanted to kiss me, right?" The decision to make it easy for him was met with a huge shift in his expression, an ease you saw, earlier, that spread as he ran his hands along your sides.

A gentle brush of his thumb across your cheek, "I did."

Kissing him was simple- it didn't feel rushed, or confusing, at all. He made it all a pleasant and invigorating experience to follow his lead.

His fingers spread through your hair, at the base of your neck. A strong but soft pull brought you into the warm embrace of his body.

He smelled good- mostly like the aged liquor he was nursing most of the night, but a bit woody, with hint of cashmere. Even his scent made you feel taken care of.

"So," You caught your breath for a second, taking in his face as you tucked some hair behind his ear, "Are you sure Daichi's fine with us- talking, all over his bed?"

The way his eyes lit up during his chuckle made you grin, validated and light.

His lips smushed against yours again. He was lifting you up by the waist, setting you on your back with proud effortlessness. You kept your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, getting your fill of his hair while you could.

Before he could completely forget to respond, he hummed a preoccupied, "Yeahh, don't worry about'm."

A hand pinned yours against the mattress.

All he needed was a little reassurance, and he was no longer the sheepish wimp you knew him to be. For a while, when those hot summer seasons coincided with the throws of your crush, it was fun to imagine what he might be like. Now, there was proof, and he didn't disappoint.

The growing pressure he placed on you kept you flat, and slowly limited your ability to move. It was getting familiar.

You tried to move your hand from under his, unlace it, just to touch him, but it proved impossible.

A small chuckle, a little mutter against his temple as he struck crude kisses down the side of your neck: "Can I have my hand back?"

The skin over his knuckles was tough, and his palms were leathery, firm, from all the lifting he did. His strength alone spoke for his dedication, but you felt pleased to know these intimate details about his body.

Your request was met with your other hand being taken hostage. It wasn't fast, but he did it so naturally that you didn't think to move away.

The look he gave you perfectly represented the edge under his words.

"You want your hands back?"

It was a tease-- a way of telling you 'I know you can't move, but I want to see you try.'

You grew warm under the weight of his subtle, playful pushing-- both between your legs and over your palms.

Robbed of your autonomy, but still finding yourself exhilarated by the reality of his size, and his capacity to use it well, the only thing left to do was play along with him. If he had a real thing for this, you wanted to know just how far it went, how worked up it could get you both.

A tiny attempt to pull your arms closer was met with his easy, slow adjustment to cross them instead, above your head. He kissed you through it, all warm and gentle and kind and safe-- but curiously engrossed in your inability to physically overcome him.

It sent a warm chill down your back- flexed, lingering in another ache between your thighs.

His lips were so soft, and sweet, and light, contrasted well against the slight burn of his stubble.

"Mm-," Asahi sighed, a soft peck to your cheek so he could collect himself, "You're givin' up already?"

The warm spill of his words across your face, plus the thrill of his little challenge, had you squirming, all knotted up and itching for him to give you more than just kisses.

"You--," You tensed at his slow, messy sucking along your jaw, "You-mm! Know I can't move..."

Maybe he was taking pity on you- maybe it was your whiny admission fueling a more licentious desire, inspiring him to let you go so he could start stripping you. You delighted in the chance it gave you to watch his reactions.

Soon, you were fully nude- and he was still fully clothed, with no foreseeable urgency to even the imbalance out.

Instead, he let a hand overlap your waist, eyes still busy scouring over you, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Dunno," You mumbled, playing with his fingers as you shot a look to his fly, "Maybe you should check."

Your coquettish quip earned a hasty, rough, but amused kiss. You writhed against his weight again, this time with a justifiable anticipation at the sound of him pulling his cock out.

It was hot as it fell against your skin. A welcome feeling of closeness you couldn't get from much else, just being skin to skin with somebody else. It made you feel a bit like melted butter.

He pushed himself up to take his shirt off, all the while examining his length, pushing it down so that he could measure it in relation to your small torso.

"We'll have to, um..." You trailed, a shaky exhale at his burly, tanned physique, "Be.."

The word 'careful' fell apart on your tongue. Now he was measuring his fingers, next to his cock. One hand remained idle wrapped around the bulk of your thigh.

It was indeed fascinating how some body types probably shouldn't try to come together, like you were. Seemed like an evolutionary flaw.

Especially because the look in his eyes was nothing short of carnivorous. It was occasionally batted back by bouts of concern for the logistics of it all.

"I've got a few ideas," He smiled, real handsome, real sweet, down at you.

Curious, you watched all your favorite muscles of his work and relax again as he backed up off of the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed.

In a second, you had been pulled closer, then adjusted in front of him- it left you breathless at the simple ease of it all. You fixed your hair, a glossy and fixated admiration in your gaze up to him.

Awed, you told him in a shaky giggle, "I really like that..."

Asahi leaned over you; a timid and flattered sigh prickling up your skin, "Yeah?"

His rough hands pinched at your hips as he kissed a messy trail down your tummy.

Whispered, just as his knees hit the carpet, "I like it, too."

It was impossible to not get excited. He always stuck you as a guy with more patience than most.

Patient was a good word to describe the way he ate you out-- he may have liked to toss you around, but it wasn't out of carelessness, or negligence. It was an exploration of boundaries, a bit of power play, and this was played right into the dynamic. His performance wasn't perfect, or void of little, silly hiccups, but it was endearing and fun to discover together.

After he got you warmed up, he began slowly, one by one, pushing his fingers into you.

"How's that feel?"

It was a curious, but flirty question.

He already knew how much you were enjoying yourself, how you were trying to keep yourself quiet under your hand, struggling to not roll your hips into his hand. He just wanted to hear you.

A raspy sigh, a distracted nod, "So g-ood--,"

"Takin' me soo well," He grinned, sucking another messy kiss to you, "Y'want another?"

It wasn't exactly audible, but he was watching that sweet, desperate little expression on your face enough to know you did.

You could feel his smile spread- making your thighs flinch, your body curl at the intensity of getting stretched even further.

"You're so cute."

A mumbly admission, buzzing just right onto you. You were so full of him, reeling in how thick three of his fingers were, and dangerously close once he concentrated on your clit.

Soon you were gripping harder, twitching, then squeezing him--, "H-ah-!"

You started begging when nonverbal queues didn't get through.

"Asahi- asahi, please-ah," You huffed, starting to feel your climax rushing in, threatening to take hold of you, "I'm s-o close-!"

You thought he would stop, for favor of dragging this out longer, but he didn't slow down, nor did he let off of you. The only change was his grip tightening, gripping into your skin. A twitch of your thigh, trying to push on him, was met with a powerful pull to keep it far away, to the side and keep you opened up.

The pressure it brought only added to your rapture- he was actively getting off to watching, hearing, feeling you beg for a break. He loved it.

"Mmn-!" Pulling on his hair did you no favors, other than encouraging that slow, constant swirl of his big tongue around your swollen clit.

In the end, the harshness in your brow, in your clawing fingers, your shaky thighs, all softened under his steady hold. He felt so good taking you apart, then bringing you all back together.

Another messy kiss, so sweet- but so mean, shoved you over the steep edge.

He could feel you tighten, pulse around his fingers and filled you to the knuckle; a tipsy, crooked smile barely visible under his working tongue.

It took so long to come out of the throws of your orgasm that he was already back on top, filling the space above you. You quickly locked your legs around him, hands guiding his face up for a kiss.

His knack for multitasking never stopped. You were given so many gentle, attentive kisses as he put you in the center of the bed, where there was finally room for the both of you.

He wanted you on your elbows and knees. Numb, and tingly, and pliable, you let him adjust you the way he wanted; you kept your debaucherous smile to yourself.

You needed every second of that foreplay to take him- he was the biggest you had ever been with. Thankfully, he also happened to be the sweetest.

"Ooh my god," Your trembling was quelled by the weight of his body.

His groan was low, stuttery, at your tight pussy clenching hard all around him.

He caught his breath, a pretty moan in the back of his throat, "Shit."

His praises were loosely strung together, punctuated in little kisses to the back of your head as he placed his elbows on the mattress, at your sides. If he had been watching, he probably wouldn't have lasted very long.

It was getting rough, quickly, but you found his kind attention more than enough to keep you relaxed.

"Mm-!" You muffled a cry, fisting the sheets while he chuckled at how cute all your little sounds were, hungry for more.

In one fluid motion, he had your arms pinned; one was tucked under you, the other was extended far out in front of you. The responsive gasp was more of your body, reacting on its own, but it was an invigorating thing to consider. He was such a timid guy, so every dirty thing he said or did still took you by surprise.

It was just like how you finished your match earlier, with one big difference.

"Mmnh-aAh! Augh-ah-Mm!"

Your surprised, whiny sounds spilled free against the sheets. His cock filled every bit of you- it felt so good your breath was getting shorter, harder to catch.

You couldn't see it, but he drank that messiness up, a furrowed concentration in his brow to keep giving it to you as hard as you needed.

"You like that?" His voice was right in your neck again, buzzed.

It melted your resistance away- you couldn't even squirm, couldn't tell him yes. You were so full, so close already, that when he stalled deep and cruel, to let you think, your euphoria was barely interrupted. You cried, tearless, drooling a little on Daichi's sheets.

"You wanna talk to me, sweetie?"

The kindness in his voice right now should've been illegal. You breath was getting shaky, your vision long since useless.

"T-ell me-mm, how it feels," He muttered, still egging you on, a kiss to the tip of your ear.

His voice fell away from you, your heart pounding in your ears- you were just swimming in delectation. His warmth, his sure delivery of careful pleasure, his gravelly, well-meaning taunts. It was starting to take you far away, for the first time.

You noticed, but didn't react to his retracting hands, nor the readjustment of his weight off of you.

He was deeply troubled that you hadn't responded to him.

If Asahi had been any more experienced or confident, he would've known the clear signs of subspace-- but considering his experience ended at some casual sex, and the absence of conversation, and not understanding of either of your limits, he thought he fucked up, bad.

You were just different. That made him nervous.

Concern laced his voice quick, a sobering sound.

"Hey?" There were a couple taps to your cheek, and when you got your focus back, he was bending to try to get a good look at your face.

You gave a weak smile, "Mm?"

"You okay?"

A big stretch, an otherwise silly invitation for him to put his hands back on top of yours, "Mmmmhm..."

The way you sat back a little, pushing yourself gently onto his cock, made him take a second. A quick moment to suck in a restrained breath. Then a reserved, relieved chuckle.

"Are you- sure?" Was his last attempt. Now he was noticing the shakiness from your legs, your irregular breathing.

He put a tiny peck to your temple, fingers carefully running over your side.

You gave a close-mouthed whine and winced away at the ticklish sensation, "God-- Just fuck me please,"

When he was watching where to put his hands, he noticed your wiggly fingers, and grinned- happy to take you up on the offer, again.

He met your light pushing with stronger, steady strokes that kept you gasping- whiny, with pleasure.

Your endurance was absolute garbage, when it came to his unconventional way of treating you. Neither of you were expecting it to click so well- not as just-friends, for years, with on-and-off separate partners and countless, ill-timed crushes on each other.

It was amusing to think of how different this would make your 'friendship' now. How could you tell the team you were dating, after they watched what was essentially half of your foreplay downstairs?

This orgasm washed over you in shorter, smaller waves than the first- but it took so long to fully crest that it felt a thousand years longer.

You weren't particularly loud, this time, but now that he was paying so much attention to you, he spoke you through it with unparalleled timing.

"Good, fuck- that's good," He sighed, huffy, in your ear.

His hand quickly clasped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Though you felt so perfect, the little scare you gave him warded off any chance he had at cumming, too. It'd have to wait for some other time. The satisfaction from getting you to this point was more than enough payoff for him.

"Good girl."

You had never felt so disconnected from your own body before. It was like you felt your climax about two rooms down the hall- and all it left you with was some invisible, heavy blanket all across your limbs.

For all that was worth, it was pretty cool.

His quiet shushing, all in your ear, was the evidence you needed that you hadn't been entirely present. You weren't sure when he started and when he stopped.

"You're okay- you're okay," He cooed, thumb gently brushing your warm cheek.

He held you incredibly still, listening, watching, for you, before pulling out.

You felt like a heavy bag of sand.

In fact, after he had shifted slowly off you and leaned closer, the way you slumped down was akin to one. Maybe more of a bag of concrete mix, instead.

It was staggering to believe your sweet, silly, nervous Asahi took it out of you, like that.

"You okay?" He was ultra-gentle, now, sliding featherlight touches over your back.

It was just enough to keep you awake.

"(Y/n)?"

You didn't realize you needed to respond. A slow, laborious sigh. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see him, once again, leaning over you to watch your face.

"Yeah..."

It didn't convince him- he looked like he was going to call an ambulance.

"I'm- tired," You went to push yourself up.

The intense quivering in your arms stopped you. Having to push back against him for so long was exhausting, and now you were completely spent. You wondered if it had anything to do with the little fight earlier, too.

He shook his head when he noticed you try to move on your own again, "Nono, I got you."

For the millionth time tonight, his ability to pick you up, from whatever position he found himself in, left you in a delighted daze. He set you so that you at least had a pillow under your head.

"You need some water? Let me go get some for you real quick."

You did feel pretty dried up. Like a dead, frail flower.

A tiny nod, and he was rushing to put on enough clothes, zipping out the door in search of water. You fell asleep in the short time he was gone, too sleepy to pull the covers over you or to roll to your side.

"Mmh..."

It had only been a minute or so.

But you felt a thousand years old, getting woken up from an ancient slumber, when a soft throw blanket was covering you- a big, gentle hand over top of it, rubbing your shoulder to rouse you.

Asahi settled to your side, watched closely as you drank, and pressed more kisses to the side of your head. He reached over you to set the bottle on the bedside table.

"Thank you," You leaned into him, then decided to give him a little edge of the blanket, too, and rested your head on his chest, "I'm okay."

"Good."

He was warm. You squeezed an arm over him.

"How are we gonna tell everyone?" You mumbled, against his tummy.

"I-... don't think we need to."

Confused at what he meant by that, you stopped trying to burrow into him, and propped up a little to look him in the face.

"Uh-," He tilted his head from side to side, a little warmth on his tan features, "We weren't...exactly...quiet."

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[villain-enthusiast]

TOUCH-STARVED HERO RAHH.

.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, actually,” the hero muttered from their sloppy position on the ground, though the oozing gash slicing across their torso and the fresh bruises circling their throat said otherwise.

The villain arched a brow, crouching down so they were eye level with the hero. “Do you think I’m dumb?”

The hero glowered at them. “Seems like you're deaf, actually. I said I’m fine,” they snapped, even as pain shuddered through their battered body. “Now if you could just get out of my way—,”

“Darling, please. You couldn’t stand up even if you tried, let alone walk yourself halfway across the city to your apartment.” The villain smirked at the hero’s deepening scowl, but the teasing flair didn't quite reach their eyes. “Let me do you a small favor while I’m here, at least.”

The hero bared their teeth. “Fuck off. I don’t need your stupid healing powers. You'll probably turn this into one of your idiotic bargains—," A harsh coughing fit cut them off, rattling their chest.

They tasted blood on their tongue. Fuck.

“Gosh, so prideful." The villain sighed, tilting their head. "Oh look at that, you're bleeding." They lifted a hand and ran a thumb over their hero's lips, wiping away a smattering of blood that had spilled from their mouth.

The hero's breath hitched at the villain's touch, the smallest, most delicate of noises escaping them before they could stop themselves.

The villain paused, their brow furrowing as their gaze took in every little movement and detail of the hero's involuntary response.

The hero's jaw tightened. Every muscle in their body screamed at them to get away, but they couldn't move. Or was it that they didn't want to move? "Villain, I swear—,"

Then the villain’s hand was cupping their cheek, and the hero melted.

A desperate whimper tore from their throat, their head lolling into the cool touch of the villain's palm as all the pain and exhaustion radiating through their body suddenly evaporated.

They closed their eyes, feeling their face begin to burn with shame.

"Oh, sweetheart," the villain murmured. Their other hand swept through the matted strands of the hero's hair, working through the tangles.

The hero had to bite down on their lip so that they didn't make another embarrassing noise. So gentle. The villain's touch was so, so gentle. So at odds to their earlier opponent's strangling grip and blinding punches, so contrasting to gaping loneliness and helplessness of coming home to no one, of having to painfully stitch themselves up day after day after day...

The villain brushed away a tear that the hero didn't realize had fallen.

"Hey, look at me," the villain said softly, nudging their chin up. The hero blinked at them, fighting back a sob. "You need to let me heal you, okay? You're losing a lot of blood."

The hero swallowed, barely processing the villain's words, their brain entirely occupied by the hand still on their face—or maybe it was just the blood loss. "Yeah," they managed, voice hoarse. It felt like their vocal chords were coated in tar.

"I'm going to do your stomach first," the villain noted. "I need both my hands for this, alright?"

The hero nodded, ignoring the inevitable panic that shot through them at the sudden absence of the villain's touch, which returned almost immediately on the deep laceration on their lower torso.

The hero cringed, bracing for some kind of torturous, painful mending, but the villain's powers were warm, soft, like honey in a cup of hot tea or a crackling fireplace during a winter storm. God, how many years had it been since they'd felt so comforted?

A whimper escaped the hero once more. They tensed. Jesus fucking christ.

The villain cracked a smile as they worked. "Don't worry, love. You're not the first person I've healed that enjoys the feeling." They brushed a palm over the wound, weaving the hero's flesh and skin back together. "This is gonna scar, but at least you'll live to see another day, hm?"

The hero scoffed weakly, still drunk on the villain's magic.

The villain swept their hands over the hero's body, feeling for more damage. "Gosh, Hero," they hummed, "you get yourself into so much trouble, do so much for this pitiful city, and for what?" They placed their hands on the hero's battered neck, soothing the inflammation. "When's the last time someone took care of you?" they asked quietly, but the question seemed more for themselves than for the hero.

Several heartbeats passed before the villain pulled away, finished with their work. The hero couldn't stop themselves from chasing their touch, nearly toppling over.

The villain caught them before they hit the ground, chuckling. "Oh, what am I gonna do with you?"

The hero felt a lump form in their throat at the thought of the villain leaving. I'm not gonna make it home. Not without Villain. They squeezed their eyes shut, swallowing their pride. "Please," they whispered. "Take me home. All I ask."

"Don't need to ask me twice." The villain swept the hero up into their arms, smirking at their indignant (and exhausted) glare. "You're not walking, sorry. You're getting all my love and special treatment today." They winked, as if they were joking.

But as the villain paced their way to the hero's apartment, and as the hero began to fall asleep in their arms, they both knew it wasn't a joke.

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain

Paige's POV

I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.

It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.

"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.

I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.

"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."

I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.

She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."

That was just the beginning.

She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.

"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."

That was her way of challenging me.

Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.

One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:

"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."

She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."

I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."

But what about what I wanted?

"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"

I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."

And then she was gone.

For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.

I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?

I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.

And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?

It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.

Steve.

The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?

"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"

My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?

"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"

His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.

"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."

The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?

I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.

Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.

"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.

I freeze. What?

"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."

She forgot me? She forgot about us?

The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."

"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.

I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.

"I want to help. Make her remember."

I must be crazy.

He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."

I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"

Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.

"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."

She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.

She’ll remember me. She has to.

Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3

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[buckydeservesthebest]

I happened to watch this scene frame by frame (or at least what the editing apps allow you to) and I just realized an interesting detail: Bucky never knocked the cop out with the intention of knocking him over the railing, all he did was block the gun the cop was aiming at him with, deflecting the barrel to the side, which caused the cop to lose his balance and accidentally fall over the railing.

Here we can see the sequence:

The cop points the gun at him.

Bucky moves to block it.

Bucky clearly deflects the gun to the side.

Bucky moves and focuses on stopping the other cop who also attacks him.

Here we can see that the cop briefly stays positioned on the railings.

So Bucky's intention was never to deliberately throw him over the railings, and that's why when he realized this, he reached out his hand to try to catch him.

Because in fact, a few moments earlier, he had already neutralized one of the agents by throwing him across the aisle and landing behind the railings, i.e., in a safe place:

Bucky was really going out of his way to not have to kill anyone, because it's precisely ending up hurting someone that scares him the most.

I think the arguable slight excess of violence he used in the fight (well, considering he was acting in self-defense because he was literally fighting for his life in the face of a large tactical team that was sent to kill him without mercy), can be excused on things that were out of his control:

a) By that time, the amount of Bucky's memories and emotions (what makes him himself) were still very small, and the fuzzy state with memory gaps and flashes in his brain makes it difficult for him to control his responses and behaviors to outside stimuli, especially those that are considered dangerous and a threat to him.

**The Marvel Studios' The Marvel Cinematic Universe An Official Timeline book, clears up the doubt present in fandom for years as to whether it was true that Bucky didn't quite remember Steve. Bucky was telling the truth, for their meeting in Bucharest he could recognize Steve, but he didn't quite remember their friendship or their time together. It wasn't until after the blow to the head and his blackout that more memories began to flow.**

b) extensive brain damage affecting his limbic system, amygdala (which plays a key role in identifying potential threats and triggering appropriate reactions, such as the 'fight or flight' response), frontal lobe, etc. Aggression is one of the most common consequences of brain injury.

And even with all of this going against him, with issues that were out of his control, Bucky struggled and managed to actually not end up killing anyone (the very people who were sent to kill him).

I couldn't imagine how difficult this was for him, and I think it just emphasizes his great moral quality, as well as what a good man he is and always has been.

Bucharest details

Not sure if this had been pointed out previously, but during the apartment fight scene in Bucharest, there's a nice little detail hidden in the shadows.

Bucky knocks a man over the railing, who Steve Rogers catches just in time. What was really hard to see in the shadows is that Bucky actually realises this in the middle of his fight with another man and makes a motion to try and catch the guy.

Hard to get a good resolution picture of this, but his head whips around and his body moves away from his new enemy when he hears the guy scream. His metal arm reaches towards the falling guy and his fist opens (rather than closing if he was actually intending to elbow the guy he pushed onto the wall).

Because it's hard to see his head in that scene, it's clearer in the next cut that Bucky definitely turned around to face the stairwell.

Bucky was really trying to stick to his no-kill promise he gave Steve. He didn't even stop to take any of the discarded guns to defend himself (even though guns are his forte).

That said, he still didn't trust that Steve would be on his side, because in his mind while Steve blocked bullets for him, Steve also seemed to be protecting the police from him. He thought that when push came to shove, Steve was more likely to side with law enforcement than him.

He was completely taken by surprise when Steve knocked the shooter out for him. I wonder if it was the first moment he thought that maybe Steve was on his side.

(edit: sorry guys, had a mind spaz and confused Bucharest with Budapest. Need more sleep/caffeine)

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

You can tell the First Year Squad had gone together to pick up Yuu and Grim from Ramshackle Dorm from the wind-swept hair and pieces of leaves that got tangled in their hair. It was fine in the earlier months of the school year, when the wind wasn't so strong and didn't come every two minutes. But of course, as winter warmed to spring and the First Year Squad grew in numbers, the weather would become ridiculous.

Sebek complained about the twigs and leaves getting into his hair once everyone was in the safety of the school building. "You know you don't have to come with us," Ace said in reply.

"I'm doing this to make sure you all don't dilly dally too long at Ramshackle. I've heard that you four especially are notorious for being almost late to your first class at least once every week."

"Jack's already been doing that, in case you didn't notice."

"Well--! My mission still stands!"

Epel has also been worried about his hair getting too messy, but he wouldn't miss out on walking with his crew in the mornings. For their part, the Squad help the best they can to fix his hair before Vil can see.

(Vil does see this in the background. Rook persuades him to let the Squad figure it out; anyway, Epel was thoroughly taught how to keep his appearance.)

Look, it's very heartwarming to imagine the Squad helping each other get leaves out of the other's hair or anything that somehow get caught on the other's clothes.

Sebek squatting down to help Grim get a couple of leaves out that got stuck in his ribbon. Yuu carefully picking out leaves and a flower petal in Sebek's hair even though he said he'd handle it. Ace taking out the same things from Yuu's hair.

Ortho helping to restylize the back of Epel's hair after getting the leaves and petals out while Epel and Deuce help Jack brush out his tail or get a leaf or two out of his hair.

Just the First Year Squad doing friend things (and the senpais being like "awwww" while watching)

[kikyoupdates]

Infatuated ⭑˚💌⭑ 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑛𝑑

yandere!bnha x reader

yandere, reverse harem, bnha x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

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If someone had asked you a few hours ago how you would be spending your day, you could never have predicted it would be like this.

There's a man in front of you, so incredibly gaunt that you might’ve mistaken him for a skeleton. His cheeks are completely sunken in, practically hollow, and nearly every time he speaks, blood spews out of his mouth. 

This man is the greatest hero in the world, All Might. 

Honestly, you're still struggling to make sense of it. Today has been one big series of misadventures. Starting with Katsuki’s merciless bullying of Izuku at school, then being attacked by some slime villain that attempted to take Izuku’s body hostage, to finally being rescued by All Might—only to discover that there's far more to him than meets the eye.  

Izuku is especially horrified, since he’s idolized All Might for as long as you can remember.  

“But... how?” he gapes. “Are you really All Might? No... it can’t be real. I just don’t understand how this could possibly be true...”  

You can't really believe it either, at least not until All Might lets out a weary sigh and lifts up his shirt, revealing a gruesome wound that has you wondering how he's even still alive right now. Apparently, he got that injury from a villain several years ago, and the aftereffects are so severe that it has permanently weakened him. You're used to seeing the All Might that everyone else knows—that blindingly-bright, impressively muscular man who never stops smiling, no matter what. But the All Might standing in front of you right now couldn't be any more different. He isn't smiling, nor does he give off the impression of someone you can entrust with your life.  

He isn't superhuman. He is flawed and weak, just like the average person.  

“I can’t work as a hero for more than three hours per day,” All Might explains grimly. “That’s my limit. I was trying so hard to get away from you kids... but I guess the secret’s out now. This is my true form. My body just isn’t what it used to be. I’ve kept this hidden from the public, because I can only imagine how frightened people would be if they found out about my current state. No matter what, the Symbol of Peace cannot succumb to the forces of evil.”  

Izuku splutters hopelessly. “But... but... whenever you save people, you’re always smiling and laughing. You always look so sure of yourself, and—”  

“The reason I laugh isn’t because I’m not scared. I do it to distract myself from the constant fear and pressure weighing me down. Pro heroes must always put their lives on the line. It’s an incredibly dangerous job, and I doubt you’d ever find a hero who doesn’t get scared.” All Might pauses, then flashes Izuku a sympathetic look. “Earlier, you asked me if someone who is Quirkless can still become a hero. Knowing what I know about the hero profession, and all the dangers that come with it... I just can’t in good conscience bring myself to tell you that it’s possible.”  

The second All Might utters those words, all the color drains from Izuku’s cheeks. You can see that he’s broken out into a cold sweat, and he's struggling to breathe evenly, veering dangerously close to a state of hyperventilation. 

“I... see,” is all he manages to respond, staring blankly at the ground.  

All Might tries to force a smile, but it isn't very reassuring. “If you care about saving people, you can always go into police work. The police don’t often receive the acknowledgment they deserve, but it is nonetheless an admirable profession. I can’t possibly condemn someone that has a dream. It’s a good thing to push yourself and try to reach your goals. But at the same time... you have to see reality for what it is, kid.”  

Just like that, he leaves, and you can tell that Izuku’s entire world has just shattered.  

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight. “Don’t listen to him,” you try to encourage. “Just because there aren’t any Quirkless heroes yet doesn’t mean there can’t be. It’s okay, Izuku. You can still try. Nothing is set in stone.”  

Under ordinary circumstances, this might've worked. Granted, it isn't as if you can just snap your fingers and make everything okay all of a sudden, but you normally succeed in pacifying Izuku whenever he's going through a particularly rough patch. After hugging him and consoling him for a while, he usually calms down.  

Unfortunately, this situation is far from ordinary, and thus, your attempts fall flat.  

“Thanks, [Name].” Izuku’s eyes are already bloodshot and brimming with tears. He is thanking you, but you aren't even sure what for, considering how utterly broken he looks. “I’ll... be alright. All Might isn’t wrong. I need to see reality for what it is. I’ve been such an idiot, all this time.”  

After staring into his vacant, tear-filled gaze, you feel like crying. But you don't , because that's the last thing Izuku needs right now. What use would you be if he ends up having to console you instead? For his sake, you have to stay positive.  

Or at the very least, look it.  

For a brief moment, you even consider using your Quirk to try and cheer him up. To put him under your control and make his mind dissociate, so that he won't have to feel the full intensity of his emotions right now. But doing that feels wrong, somehow. Especially if you don't have his explicit permission. In this moment, the most you can possibly do is keep on hugging him and make it abundantly clear just how much you believe in him, until he finally believes in himself.  

Still. It just isn't fair. What has Izuku done to deserve any of this? Is it really not enough that people like Katsuki keep tormenting him? Why is he now forced to watch his biggest role model turn his back on him?  

You are only fourteen years old, but you're realizing just how incredibly shitty life can be for some people.  

“I’m okay,” Izuku insists, although his expression is practically blank by now. “I’m really okay, [Name]. You don’t need to worry.”  

You smile weakly. “I know you are. Because you will become a hero. Today’s just been rough. Tomorrow will be better. I promise.”  

You refuse to let go of his hand while you walk. Part of you is worried that once you do, you might lose him forever. You fear that he might finally succumb to all the pressure and give up on his dream. Give up on everything.  

As it just so happens, though, life presents you with an opportunity. You hear loud chatter and spot a crowd of people gathered together. It doesn't take long for you to realize that all those people are probably watching heroes go head-to-head with a villain, and so, you pull Izuku in their direction, hoping that it will reignite the flame inside him that is on the verge of being snuffed.  

“Look, Izuku,” you beam. “I wonder who’s fighting today? Let’s watch the heroes kick some villain butt!”  

He's dragging his feet and looks visibly unenthusiastic, but old habits are hard to quit. Even as dejected as he is right now, he still can't stop himself from following you. It makes you hopeful that despite everything All Might said to him, he's still determined to do what he always dreamed of. 

It was your intention to lift his spirits, but in the process of pulling him along, you end up doing the exact opposite.  

There he is again—the slime villain that attacked the two of you earlier. But it just doesn't make any sense. You know for a fact that All Might captured him. Does that mean that he must have escaped at some point?  

“It’s my fault,” Izuku gasps, hurrying to clamp his palms over his mouth. “Oh god,” he breathes shakily, voice muffled. “All Might must have dropped him or something! If only I hadn’t been so selfish and just stayed out of his business!”  

You don't know what to say. Of course, you don't believe Izuku is to blame, but you are too petrified to say a damn word.  

Because the slime villain’s latest victim isn't just anyone—it's someone you know very, very well. 

Katsuki!  

He's struggling with all his might, desperately fighting to stay conscious and resist succumbing to the villain. Katsuki is strong. He has always been strong. Even so, that doesn't make him indestructible. And right now, as he struggles  to get enough air to even breathe, you can tell that he's terrified beyond words.  

You want to help. You really, really do, but your previous experience with the slime villain already proved that you're helpless to do a damn thing.  

More than anything, you're afraid of what might happen to you if you even try.  

Izuku, however, is different. Which is why, while you stand there, frozen stiff from fear, Izuku has already started running.  

You cry out to him, try to tell him that it's too dangerous, but he isn't listening. Despite being Quirkless, you know that Izuku is already more of a hero than most people could ever hope to be. That's why he doesn't hesitate for a moment to try and save someone, even when all the odds are stacked against him.

His bravery and selfless nature are what manage to finally spur you onwards, but when you try to run after him, one of the heroes on site pulls you back. 

“Don’t!” he insists. “What that kid just did was incredibly reckless! You’re not going anywhere! You could get seriously hurt!”  

The hero holds you in place, and you thrash and try to break free, even though you aren't a match for his strength. All the while, Izuku is doing everything he can possibly think of to try and free Katsuki from the slime villain. He throws his backpack at him, frantically pulls and claws at the slime to try and give Katsuki enough room to breathe—just anything.  

He must be scared. So scared that he probably can't even think straight, but even so, he doesn't give up.  

As a result, he manages to move the heart of a man who was convinced he’d already reached his limit for the day.  

All Might appears out of nowhere, back in the broad, muscular state you're used to seeing him in. Blood is spewing out of his mouth, so you can tell that he's pushing himself beyond measure, but that's because he and Izuku are one and the same. When faced with someone who is in dire need of help, they both have a tendency to act first, and think later.  

With All Might on the scene, the slime villain doesn't last much longer. You look on with tears in your eyes, shoulders sagging from relief when Izuku and Katsuki are finally both rescued. The villain’s amorphous body has splattered all over the place from the pressure of All Might’s punch, and it's safe to say that he’s been immobilized for good.  

It's over. This hellish day has finally come to an end.  

“Oh, Izuku,” you whimper, rushing straight over and wrapping him in a hug. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! I was so scared of what might happen to you...”  

He chuckles weakly, blushing while he leans into your touch. “I-I’m okay. I know what I did was reckless, but... seeing Kacchan like that, I couldn’t possibly ignore him. His eyes looked they were pleading for help.”  

“No, you did the right thing,” you insist. “You bought Katsuki enough time for All Might to act. You might’ve even been the one that inspired him to do so. I wish I could���ve run to help right away, like you did... but I was too scared. I’ve clearly still got a long way to go.”  

“That’s giving me too much credit. I really couldn’t accomplish anything on my own...”  

You expect that Izuku will be praised for his bravery, but instead, he is met with nothing but reprimands from some of the other heroes who reacted to the crisis. They berate him for charging headfirst into danger, without any concern for his own well-being. You try to point out that if not for Izuku, Katsuki might have already been done in by the time All Might showed up, but they aren't having it.  

On the other hand, from what you can tell, Katsuki is being showered with praise. His explosion Quirk is incredibly powerful, and that, paired with his resilience and tough nature, has clearly made a strong impression on the pros. They're all amazed that he held out for so long against the slime villain, when most people would hardly have lasted a few minutes.  

Katsuki is amazing, no doubt about it, but there's no mistaking how afraid he looked back there. No matter how headstrong and fearless he tries to act, at heart, he's still only a fourteen-year-old boy. 

For that reason, you figure that what he needs most of all right now is not to be praised incessantly, but for someone to show him some genuine concern.  

You hug Izuku one last time, stand up, then begin walking in Katsuki’s direction. 

Unfortunately, you don't make it very far.  

“Stay back,” Katsuki grits out, the veins in his forehead threatening to burst. “I know what’s going on in that stupid head of yours. I can tell based on that goddamn pitying expression you have. Stay back before I get really fucking mad.”  

You want to show him that you care. Even if he is horrible to Izuku at times, especially earlier today, he's still your long-time friend. You doubt you'll ever lose the soft spot you have for him. Is it really too much to ask that he lets his guard down and accepts your consideration, for crying out loud?  

“Katsuki—”  

“No,” he spits. “Shut the fuck and march back to shitty Deku’s side. He’s the one you’re so obssesed with anyways.”  

You shamefully look down at your feet. It seems like it's pointless to even try. No matter what you do , no matter what Izuku does, Katsuki keeps interpreting it as an insult. Izuku just tried to save his life, and yet Katsuki is still glaring at him as though he’s somehow been wronged.  

None of it makes any sense, and it hurts  to feel like things will never go back to the way they used to be.  

Heeding Katsuki’s words, you trudge back over to Izuku. It's time to leave. It's been a long, incredibly tiring day, for you too, but Izuku especially. He needs to get some rest and put all of this behind him. 

Right before you leave the scene, Katsuki makes sure to glare viciously in your direction one last time.  

“I never asked you to help me, piece of trash Deku,” he grits out. “I didn’t need your help. Got it? In fact, I saved myself. You didn’t do a goddamn thing! So, don’t expect me to owe you or some shit. You seriously piss me the hell off. Stay out of my life from now on and mind your fucking business.”  

Neither you nor Izuku say anything in response. A rational-minded person would have said ‘thanks’, or even, ‘I really appreciated what you tried to do.’ But Katsuki is just too stuck in his ways. He's determined to always make things out to be negative. He refuses to ever acknowledge that even he needs help sometimes.  

Katsuki’s lack of gratitude just makes Izuku’s sacrifice that much more noble, because you know for a fact he didn't expect anything in return.  

“You really are amazing, Izuku.” You smile gently, reaching down to grab his hand again. “I mean, the fact that you tried to save Katsuki without even thinking twice about it, even after he hurt you earlier today and said all those horrible things. That’s exactly why I know you’ll become a hero. Most people wouldn’t have been able to save someone who’d bullied them for so many years.”  

Izuku stares down at your hand and admires the way your fingers are interlocked with his. Unless you're imagining it, he looks like he's feeling a bit better now. At the very least, his expression isn't hollow and lifeless anymore. Perhaps he's just relieved that Katsuki is safe, or maybe he feels a small sense of pride over his heroic feat earlier. You have no way of knowing for sure.  

The two of you walk in silence, and neither of you seems willing to let go of the other’s hand. Izuku still can't forget All Might’s words from earlier, and even though he tried to help his former friend, he knows that still isn't enough for him to become a hero. He realizes now that without a Quirk, it's nothing but a baseless dream.  

Still, he's comforted by the fact that you think he's amazing. Maybe he can strive to become a police officer, like All Might suggested. He can still save people that way, and as long as you are by his side, then... 

Perhaps that alone is enough.  

Of course, you are none the wiser as to what thoughts are going through Izuku’s head. You don't know just how much he's fixating on you and placing you on a pedestal, unintentionally relying on you as his sole source of motivation and happiness. It's never a good thing for any one person to depend wholly on another, and if not for All Might’s sudden appearance, Izuku might have fallen further into his obsessive thoughts.  

“All Might?!” Izuku cries out. “But... what are you doing here? I could’ve sworn you were surrounded by reporters back there...”  

“I gave them the slip,” All Might chuckles. “I’m still the Number One hero, you know. More importantly, I had some things I wanted to say. Or rather, some corrections regarding what I said earlier.”  

You cock a brow, and Izuku can't help but do the same. Well, he’s come all this way for a reason, so you suppose you have no choice but to hear him out. You just hope he won't say more depressing stuff that would completely crush Izuku’s soul.  

However, much to your surprise, All Might doubles back and basically retracts his previous words. He admits to being inspired by Izuku’s courage and willingness to help save his friend, despite being Quirkless. Unlike before, All Might has nothing but praise for him. He apologizes for having dismissed him so quickly and recognizes that Quirk or not, Izuku has the heart of a hero.  

“You can become a hero.”  

They're the same words you've repeated to Izuku for the past ten years, but hearing them from a hero like All Might is understandably more impactful. Izuku is so moved that he can't help but crumple to his knees, and even though he was already crying, this time, they are happy tears.

You wrap your arms around him. Overwhelmed by emotion, it doesn't take long for you to start crying too.

You would be lying if you said you expected to hear from him again today. After all, you didn't exactly leave things off on a good note. But you are a forgiving person by nature, and again, you can't find it in you to completely resent Katsuki, even after all the scummy things he’s already done.

Perhaps you shouldn’t keep giving him more chances, but you do it anyways.

It's very much like him not explain anything and stick to his stubbornness. Honestly, though, in light of recent news, you're in a really good mood. You thought for sure that today would suck all the way until the end, but it had actually been rather incredible. 

All Might has chosen Izuku as his successor, and he is going to pass his Quirk onto him.  

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you heard him utter those words. You thought he was making things up just to screw with the both of you. But no, apparently All Might’s Quirk—One for All—is the type of Quirk that can be passed down from one person to the next. Izuku is going to have to train his butt off to get stronger, but if he succeeds, then he'll have a Quirk waiting for him. 

He isn't going to be Quirkless anymore, and the thought makes you so happy that you can hardly stop grinning.  

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Katsuki snaps. He's obviously peeved by how chipper you are, but unfortunately, you can't tell him why. All Might has sworn both you and Izuku to secrecy. One for All is purely confidential, and you aren't allowed to tell anyone, not even your own parents.  

Still, you physically can't wipe your smile off your face. Things are finally looking up for Izuku, and it's impossible to contain your excitement.  

“I watched a funny show earlier,” you brush off. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Anyways, what’s up? Why’d you call me out here?”  

For some reason, Katsuki glances away, unwilling to look you in the eye.  

“Deku didn’t save me,” he finally mutters. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.”  

“Huh? Are you still on about that?”  

You blink repeatedly. He really is ridiculous. When is he going to realize that he's way too fixated on Izuku? It isn't healthy. Izuku is perfectly content to just do his own thing and be nice to everyone. Katsuki's the one who keeps going out of his way to harass him for no reason. Back when he was younger, he always used to say that Izuku was obsessed with him, but it's so clearly the other way around.  

Still, you're in a really good mood right now, and you refuse to let Katsuki put a damper on it.  

“Okay, Katsuki.” You nod patiently and smile. “Izuku didn’t save you, it’s true. All Might was the one who saved you. Izuku was worried about you, because you know that’s just how he is. He worries about everyone. But I know he isn’t the one who defeated the slime villain or anything, so can we please just put this past us?”  

Katsuki clenches his fists. “And I’m saying that he had no reason to worry about me, because I was just fucking fine! All he ever does is look down on me. It’s like he thinks I’m this weak-ass bitch, and he’s so much better than I am.”  

“No,” you frown. “Like I said, he worries about everyone, not just you. You’re not the exception, Katsuki. Some people tend to worry more than others. That’s just the kind of person he is. Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean people can’t worry about you. I don’t get why you think it’s such a bad thing. It shows that they care. It means that they value you. It doesn’t mean they think you’re below them.”  

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me—least of all a Quirkless weakling like him,” he spits.  

You really don't know what else to say. You're always running in circles with this guy. He's just too tied up in his flawed way of thinking. He believes that any sort of concern directed his way is automatically some form of mockery. You wish you could help him think more clearly, but you just don't know how. 

“I care about you, Katsuki. I care about you, and that means I worry too. Even though I know you’re so much stronger than I am. Don’t you see that it’s not about being strong or weak? I care about you because you’re important to me. It’s just that simple.”  

For just a moment, Katsuki’s eyes widen, and he looks like he's finally starting to understand.  

He raises your hopes, only to immediately dash them. 

“I’m important to you,” he swallows. He's thankful for the dark of night, otherwise you would’ve noticed that he's blushing right now. “You mean that, right?”  

“Of course I do,” you nod. “I’ve known you for so long. You’re still my friend.”  

Katsuki just stares at you, and there's something weirdly ominous about the way he does it, without so much as blinking once.  

“If I’m so important to you, then tell Deku you never want to see him again.”  

“What?”  

You can't help the gasp that leaves your lips. Seriously, what in the world is he on about now? There's no way you're ever going to do something like that. He's acting crazy.  

“You know that’s never going to happen,” you grimace. “Just stop it, Katsuki. If that’s your idea of a joke, it really isn’t funny.”  

Katsuki’s eyes are completely wide. “Who said I was joking? You’re the one who started running your mouth about how important I am to you and all that shit. So, I’m calling your bluff. If I was actually important to you, then you would cut that shitty nerd out of your life, because you know just how much he gets under my skin. Unless you’re saying he’s more important to you than I am.”  

Before you can even muster up a response, Katsuki has already stepped closer to you. He grabs you by the hand, except unlike whenever you hold Izuku’s hand, this sensation is far from pleasant. Actually, it even borders on painful, because of how hard he keeps squeezing your fingers.  

It hurts, and quite frankly, he's freaking you out.  

“There’s no way you think that fucking loser is better than me... right?” Katsuki insists. He refuses to let go of your hand, despite the fact that you keep trying to shake him off. Everything about him right now, from the tone of his voice to that unsettling look in his eyes, just reeks of desperation. He only ever seems to get this desperate whenever Izuku is involved.  

That's what you believe, however, the reality is slightly different. 

You and Izuku together—that is what makes Katsuki’s blood boil like no other.  

“Katsuki, I don’t think either of you is better or worse,” you try to explain. By now, you’ve given up on trying to push him away or make him let go of your hand. You just hope that you can get him to calm down. “Please, can you just stop this? I really want all three of us to be friends again. I hate how things turned out.”  

Perhaps one day, in the distant future, the situation would improve. But if you asked Katsuki right now, he would rather die than ever make amends with that shitty freckled nerd. He hates Izuku with every fiber of his being, and not only because he's Quirkless.  

Because he's stolen you from him.  

“You don’t give a fuck about me,” Katsuki chuckles dryly. “I doubt you ever did. Deku was the one you always made googly eyes at. Stop pretending like you want anything to do with me. That kind of fake shit makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.”

You try to protest, but he's already walking away. He steps inside his house and slams the door shut, not even bothering to glance back in your direction.  

Katsuki is gone, and you are left outside in the cold, completely alone. You raise your head and look up at the sky. It's so endlessly vast and dark. Not a single star is in sight. You know that they're out there, somewhere, hidden behind a black veil, but since you can't actually see them, it does little to comfort you.  

Whatever happiness you felt earlier was clearly destined to be short-lived. The day has ended on an awful note after all.

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[prophetic-hijinks]

When the Walls Came Down

Set after the events of this “Visions” comic

_________________________________________

“Ten years?” Elena uttered in a whisper. Her delicate proclamation is barely audible against the chittering of insects in the surrounding jungle. Bruno’s confession shatters the excitement of their shared future, bringing back to the reality of the past.

The day was eventful, to say the least. So many secrets were revealed, all because Elena surprised Bruno with her new car, offering to drive him back instead of making him brave the bus. Bruno, excited for her to meet the whole family, forgot the small matter of his magical family and house. To her credit, she held her grit between Casita bringing her bag in on rumbling tiles and Camilo shifting in front of her. But ended with her passing out because Antonio’s leopard decided to play tag with his rats, leaving her soaking wet from Pepa’s anxious deluge.

But all of that was forgiven with Bruno’s vision of a future full of love, complete with two babies cast in an emerald tablet. Its faint glow lit their faces, as a waxing moon bathed the unlikely pair on the grassy knoll in moonlight.

That is until Bruno dropped a bombshell delivered in a half-hearted joke as if that could soften the blow.

“I couldn’t help but notice when they recounted the story of the Encanto, you weren’t in it for a fair bit.” Elena mused.

“Oh I was behind the scenes… so to speak”. Further prodding sent her mind screaming when he elaborated.

‘He lived in the WALLS!’ She reeled as the same trepidations that haunted Elena, made her doubt her ability to pick men. The 20/20 Hindsight that had her second guess every relationship AFTER they failed trickled in. Carlos who fell out of love with her for not giving him children, secretly hated her success. Or the string of crimson men who wanted the vixen on the stage. Who didn’t care who she was or what she wanted.

Hugo always said Elena’s rose-colored glasses made it impossible for her to see the red flags. And a man hiding in his family home's walls for a decade sounded like a HUGE RED FLAG.

Elena looked at Bruno as he nervously picked at the frayed edge of his ruana.

But the flag wasn’t red…It was green. Green like the eyes of the man that waited until the third date to even TRY for a kiss. A kiss he asked permission for.

And it was also an emerald green. Telling her that for once, her heart was safe. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She could be a hopeless romantic, with actual hope. Bruno wasn’t Carlos who would keep her trapped for over a decade in a bitter marriage before calling it off. He was respectful. Loving. Gentle.

“Ten years?”, she repeated Bruno flicked his eyes to her, so much fear and hurt. She softened even more. “How did you survive?.”

“Ah well, heh Y’know, casita would sneak me food. Juli always made so much in the morning before heading to the square. She barely noticed it went missing, especially with Camilo nabbing thirds and…” He was rambling now. Elena put a gentle hand on his arm, his nervous tremble calming under her touch. He gave a sheepish chuckle. Marveling how she had that effect without a single word.

“Heh, it was hard. But I had hobbies to pass the time, and my rats to keep me company.”

“But why the walls? If life was so unbearable? Why not leave the Encanto?”

Bruno looked at the looming mountain path she passed through earlier today. The one split down the middle in a strange formation Elena had never seen in nature before.

“The magic protected us from the outside world. But it also made it dangerous to leave. The mountain path didn’t even open until the magic was gone. Only the bravest ever tried the climb to trade out. And heh, that’s not me.” He shrugged. ‘Sides I had to stay. I had to protect Mirabel.”

“Mirabel?”

“Ma begged me to look to her future, to understand why Mirabel didn’t get a gift.”

Bruno grabbed the tablet between them.

“I saw in the vision Mirabel as a teenager. Her future wasn’t fixed like ours, I saw Casita standing”. He said tilting the tablet to the left “And casita falling”. Tilting it right.

“I couldn’t bring that back to Ma. I Couldn’t saddle Mirabel with that burden. She was a baby, already denied her room, her dream, and what? Tìo Bruno was going to deliver a nightmare?” An anxious tremor entered his voice “No, no, no I thought if I just waited. Patched up the cracks, I could stop it from happening.”

‘He spent a decade alone to protect her. To be near his family.’ Elena recalled the sweet young woman she met today, earnest, loving, and without a hint of teenage angst. Who showed unbridled enthusiasm for Tio’s girlfriend. Another wall came down.

Bruno vaguely gestured backward to Casita.

“Heh, but a fat lot of good that I did. It still fell.”

“...But didn’t everything get better after it fell?.”

Bruno floundered, “Well… yeah! But I assumed we just got, I dunno, Lucky?”

“Sounds like Mirabel’s destiny was to tear it down,” Elena said.

“You think Mirabel was supposed to have Casita fall?” He sputtered incredulously.

Elena held up the tablet with the image of their twins and their proud happy faces. “You said this future was fixed?”

“Yes,” He said, reassuringly. She had already asked before if that future was destined to be hers. “This future was ours from the beginning.”

“Well Bruno, unless you had plans to take up mountain climbing, how do you propose you would have ever met me if Casita didn’t fall? Because I don’t see me traversing a jungle in kitten heels.”

“…”

For a moment, it seemed even the jungle quieted for the answer. “I..you…”. Bruno needed time to process the matter.

“Casita was always meant to fall. So I would be forced back to the family. So Ma could grieve at the river. So the villagers could help us and learn to depend on themselves. So Mirabel could heal the family and rebuild Casita better…” Bruno continued, looking at Elena and squeezing her offered hand on his lap.

“So I could give a shy little wave to a singer at the Chia Lounge?”. Elena smiled and leaned into him.

“Heh… Everything was meant to be this way?”

“It seems so, but I’m not sure if hiding for ten years was the most stellar problem-solving,” Elena said jokingly. Bruno flushed, embarrassed. Covering his face with his hands.

“But! But!” Elena quickly blurted panicked at the hurt she caused. Wrapping her right arm around his she gently pushed her left hand under his hand on his cheek. Then gently guiding his face to hers.

“But, I do know this. You said only the brave ever tried to leave. But you WERE brave in staying. To try to protect Mirabel.” She gently ran her thumb against his cheek.

“And I know most men; no matter how brave or stoic, would have broken into a million pieces being alone for so long. They would have become bitter and angry; or broken beyond repair.”

“The fact you escaped all that while remaining kind. Still so sweet and loving, is a testament to how strong you are.” Elena kissed his cheek, she could taste salt from a fallen tear. “Strong in the only way that matters to me.”

Bruno gave a relieved shudder, breath mingling with hers they were so close. “Heh, you aren’t ready to hop into your car and run from all this?”

“Not a chance.” Elena tilted the tablet between them. “I know for a fact we get through this. So let's get through this.”

She cuddled deep into him, her body fitting perfectly next to a body that never felt he fit in anywhere else. “Bruno I want all of you, scars and all.”

Bruno looked down at her in grateful awe. They were both crying gentle, cathartic tears.

“Besides, you’re not the only one with baggage.”

“Heh, Fucking Carlos?” He asked.

“Fucking Carlos” she concurred.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62109775

[firstelevens]

22 for sambucky? :)

22. things you said after it was over

It would be nice, Sam decides, if the people around him could acknowledge, just one time, that he's a goddamn professional.

Sure, they're willing to trust his tactical assessments and follow his plans in the field, and there's plenty of mentoring opportunities where they actively seek out his advice, but apparently that doesn't mean shit. Apparently, at the end of the day, Sam's team--and a number of people who aren't on Sam's team, which is kind of the problem--is convinced that he'll handle any given awkward situation with all the grace and professionalism of a thirteen-year-old.

Nobody has said as much, of course, but he can feel all of their eyes on him, their interest barely disguised as they watch him from across the jet. Whatever world-ending threat it is that demands the presence of both Team Cap and the Thunderbolts, it's been overshadowed by the mere act of Sam walking across the jet to sit beside his ex.

Bucky, at least, doesn't give him anything more than a glance of acknowledgment as Sam takes a seat on the bench. There's about a foot of space between them, and Sam is abruptly reminded of the time when there used to be no space there at all, when the furthest that either of them could bear to be was still near enough to orbit the other.

"Torres still thinks I'm the one who broke up with you and you're covering for me," Bucky says, by way of greeting. His jaw is tight, so different from the sweet smile he used to send Sam's way when he was about to either be very sweet or a complete nuisance. "You might want to refresh your team on intel gathering."

Sam snorts, but he doesn't feel particularly like laughing. "If Torres can't believe the truth when he hears it, we've got much bigger problems than how he thinks our relationship ended."

All he gets in response is a grunt, Bucky's eyes focusing back on the paperback in his hands.

"I'm not here to talk about Torres, anyway," says Sam.

"No?" asks Bucky, flat. "And I was so sure you were here to braid my hair and tell me that he finally asked you out."

Sam, a goddamn professional, ignores the jibe. "I'm here because AJ's twelfth birthday is next week, and Sarah says you still haven't RSVP-ed."

"What do you mean?" asks Bucky. "I told her weeks ago I couldn't make it."

"Yeah, that was the wrong answer," says Sam, crossing his arms. "It's AJ's birthday. Everyone he loves is going to be there. You're not skipping it."

Bucky's eyes narrow in irritation, and although it's directed at Sam, he still feels a rush of relief that it's no longer the closed-off expression he was getting earlier. "Is that an order, Cap?" he sneers. "You know I don't answer to you anymore, right?"

"You never answered to me to start with," snaps Sam. "And it's not an order; it's an invitation."

"I know I'm getting up there in years, so maybe my memory's going, but invitations are usually requests, aren't they?" asks Bucky. "There's not generally a right answer."

"Fine. It's not an invitation. It's a reminder," he says. "AJ loves you and you love him. He wants you at his party, and you wouldn't break his heart by missing it."

Bucky scowls, crossing his arms. "You sound very sure of yourself."

"Oh, I am," Sam says. "I already worked it out with Sarah and everything."

He can see Bucky trying not to take the bait, but after a long moment, Bucky's frown gets deeper as he asks, "Worked what out with Sarah?"

"AJ and I are going on a trip before his birthday to celebrate, just the two of us," says Sam. "The day of the party, I'll be on call, so I won't be there. For whatever it's worth."

But naturally, Bucky can't let anything be easy, so he gets all huffy. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Sam. Why would you be on call during AJ's birthday party?"

Sam mirrors Bucky's scowl. He hasn't missed these arguments. "So we can fix the stupidest thing I've ever heard, which is you telling Sarah that AJ's favorite person can't come to his birthday party because it would be 'uncomfortable' for one person who's not even that relevant to the party."

"It's AJ's birthday," says Bucky. "His uncle should be there."

"And he will be," says Sam, with his fiercest glare. "Right?"

He watches realization color Bucky's face, slowly melting into wonder.

"Oh," says Bucky, softly. The look on his face, all tender, heartbreaking awe, triggers Sam's muscle memory so fast that his hands are reaching out to hold Bucky almost before he realizes that it's happening. He snatches them back as soon as he clocks it, but Bucky is clearly too caught up to notice either way.

"Yeah, oh," Sam says, trying for the even tone he'd used earlier. "So you'll be there?"

Bucky nods shakily, his eyes still wide. They look a little glossy, maybe, but Sam can't fault him for that.

"I'll be there," he whispers. "Thank you, Sam."

"Of course," says Sam, pushing off the bench seat. He clears his throat. "Be safe out there."

"You, too," is the immediate response. There's a drawing-in of breath, like maybe Bucky has something more to say, but nothing else follows, and eventually, Sam is out of reasons to stay. It's hard to pull himself out of Bucky's orbit all the same.

[lsunstreakerl]

the latest chapter of SH! 💛 charles going feral over the not-even-real-possibility of lewis adding max to his collection of blond WDC champions and also just thinking about charles pretty much pissing all over HIS red bull golden boy, that really hits the spot! thank you!

but also in another ask you said that max may consider the whole eye injury water under the bridge but charles not, and that made me think of the grudge you can hold onto someone over them hurting the people you love and how hard it’s to let go. In this case clearly lewis isn’t at fault but i’m wondering of how hard it has been for charles to deal with those negative thoughts in a high pressure environment. i know you mostly feel comfortable writing from max’s pov but any chance we can get a bit into charles’ mind?

Hi anon! I meant to respond to this much earlier but it got stuck in my brain and actually manifested as a little snippet, so here's a tiny peek behind the curtain! hopefully it's a little bit more insight? feel free to ask more questions if you have them :)

Charles is trying not to grit his teeth, though if the glare Silvia is sending his way is any indication, he's failing.

They're getting ready for the fan stage, and Charles keeps checking his phone, making sure he isn't missing any messages from Max.

They're in Monaco for the race, and normally it is one of Charles' favorite races, and Max was supposed to be here in the garage today, but he'd had a flare-up this morning, dry heaving and dizzy. Charles hadn't wanted to leave him, but Max had gotten decently close to biting his head off, shoving him to the doorway.

"If you want to be worried I cannot stop you, but at least be driving while you are doing it."

Now, though-

Charles isn't sure how he's meant to do this fanstage. He's been civil with Lewis, hasn't let his roiling resentment sneak into their interactions, professional or personal, but it's only a matter of time.

It's harder on days like today, where Charles has left his boyfriend sick at home, suffering from something that many very well never leave him, when Max could be- should be here, racing with them, racing with Charles.

Everyone has idolized Lewis at some point in their lives, and Charles is no different, had admittedly been excited to find out he was joining the team, but the end of last season, and this one-

It's left a sour taste on his tongue. He doesn't hold Lewis on a pedestal anymore, how can he, when he has slipped into Charles' home, driving the color that belongs to Charles, belongs to Ferrari, refuses to address his legacy with Max the same way he refuses to talk about any other rivals.

Charles can't stand it. He couldn't care less about Nico and Seb- well, maybe a little bit about Seb- but to do the same to Max. Charles' Max, the Max that fought his way onto the grid, fought his way through the hate, fought himself into a competitive car, and a team that loved him, the Max that deserves to be on the grid today-

To see Lewis instead, who has been driving since before Max and Charles were on the grid, and still is, it makes his fingers curl.

Maybe he's just having a bad day. He knows he needs to pull the nice boy face back on, but he's having trouble finding it, when the car is competitive this year, when he and Lewis are both bringing home points.

It doesn't matter, at the end of the day, what Lewis is capable of, because he is driving for Ferrari, but he is not Ferrari, doesn't have rosso corsa beating fast through his veins, doesn't have the prancing horse as a thundering heartbeat.

He's a Mercedes boy, a wolf at heart, and that will ruin him, here. Ferrari does not take wolves. Ferrari takes sacrifices, bleating lambs, brought to the alter young and innocent, and only the most devoted get to live, get to have the honor of bringing the team to glory, the privilege of representing the legacy. Only the most treasured become the shining eye of the tifosi, and to get it all at once, to be a model driver, a living breathing manifestation of the Scuderia- it only comes around once every few generations of drivers.

Seb couldn't do it, and neither could Fernando. Lewis will not be capable either.

Charles has it.

It may not have been intentional, but Max has left Charles a mantle, a legacy, one final way to etch their names together forever, intertwined in a way no media or sports magazine could ever brush past, like so much of their lives and careers, tangled together to the very end.

Charles Leclerc will not let Lewis Hamilton get his eighth title.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, gives him a friendly squeeze.

"Hey man, you ready?"

Charles checks his posture, unclenches his jaw, and smiles at Lewis, but there's nothing friendly about it. It's the most Charles will let himself have, tiny little slips in the mask, unsettling for Lewis and unnoticeable for anyone else around them.

"Of course."

[agenericplaceholdername]

Very interesting question. Your bar for "writing off" a character is your own -- maybe if you think that a specific season's writing can be noticeably different to the point where a character's actions carry less judgement, certainly a different writing team's would function similarly, so why not "write off" the Hageman Bros's Dareth while keeping Bragi's Dareth? If Doc and Kevin bring him back technically that's a "new" character, at least to the extent that S6 Dareth can be viewed as distinct from his other appearances. Not sure how much I agree with this idea but just throwing it out there.

Will object to placing three of the Ninja on the same bar as Dareth both mischaracterization and sexism-wise (I assume Jay, Cole, and Lloyd). Certainly Jay is pretty sexist in Skybound but I don't think this is a mischaracterization, just an escalation of his behavior since S3. The point of his arc is for him to learn why what he was doing was wrong (as to whether Skybound really accomplishes that is another question). And despite all this he still objects to Dareth's behavior in "Infamous."

Cole makes a sexist joke that I would agree is... different than his pre-established character (although I don't think there's much in previous seasons to imply he's a big feminist). He then mostly backs down after Nya criticizes him. Lloyd laughs at Cole's joke and also backs down after a glare from Nya. Lloyd is probably a year or two removed from being a "no girls allowed in my tree house" ten year old so I still wouldn't call this out of character as much as it is a relapse. Lloyd also sticks up for Nya against Dareth in "Infamous."

Fundamentally I don't think Cole's (still sexist and bad!) joke is on par with Dareth physically excluding Nya from the other Ninja, wanting her to run segments on "teaching girls how to apply makeup" and "how to cook", and accusing her of hurting the Ninja's image solely because of her gender. He loudly objects to the statement, "There's no reason she should be treated differently"! IMO this is clearly categorically worse than what the Ninja do.

basically, if you don't want to write off Dareth, don't. But I personally wouldn't use Skybound's other writing choices as an excuse to do so.

as a side thing, I'm mixed on the whole "they wouldn't say that" idea. On one hand, if a character says something, clearly that refutes the idea that they wouldn't say it. On the other, characters aren't real, bad writing exists, etc. My bar tends to be if a character does something that directly contradicts a prior statement or action (without cause for such a change), then you've got bad writing. even more so if they're contradicting a core character trait or repeated pattern of behavior (plus that earlier behavior would presumably have more weight in whatever moral judgement I have of them as a character). However, if a character does something unexpected or new that doesn't contradict established behavior, then that's who that character is (at least in that moment). In this case, while Dareth isn't sexist to the degree he was in Skybound in other seasons, he also never indicates that he wouldn't be sexist (his refusal to accept a no from Gayle Gossip as expressed in DotD actually gives more evidence to the idea that he is). Thus I wouldn't call it out of character or "he wouldn't say that" because a) he did and b) he never says anything to indicate he wouldn't have.

The thing about Dareth as a character is I can't Quite see myself writing him off completely? Like his stuff in Skybound Was bad it was pretty awful, but they also had like three of the guys on the main ninja team act horrifically bad to Nya for no reason. Neither Dareth nor any of the ninja acted anything quite like they did in Skybound before or after it??? So I don't rlly Think I can write Dareth off as a sexist piece of shit for season 6? Like yeah he was Awful there but I don't know how extreme I'm willing to go there with him...

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

My DC Cinematic Universe - Creature Commandos: Part I - Introduction

In every comic book fanatic...there are two wolves.

There's the first wolf, the purist wolf, who has read all the canon, loves the comic book lore as it stands (no matter how ridiculous it is), and can tell you the unnecessarily complex backstory of that one character that no fully same person knows the backstory of (the Hawks for DC nerds, and any member of the Summers-Grey family for Marvel, for example). But the second wolf, the fan wolf, actively shares those characters and stories they love with other people, and thinks about those characters with its own headcanons and opinions.

Now, unlike the metaphorical inner wolves of normal people, these wolves are fed by external media. And when a comic book fan looks at a character or story they live, especially when its adapted, their wolves feast. The purist wolf feeds on accurately adapted characters, faithful to the page and to what they love to see. Meanwhile, the fan wolf just wants to see the adaptation, regardless of the changes, and loves to talk about it with other people who see it. Now, ideally, every comic book nerd has wolves that they feed in equal measure with books and media, especially if that media adapts comics well.

So, how are my wolves doing?

...Jesus Christ, when did the fan wolf learn how to walk on two legs? And use weaponry? And develop thumbs? And learn Spanish? And speak with the voice of acclaimed character actor Wagnar Moura? Well, shit, he's feeding pretty well as of late. Makes sense, there are a lot of adaptations nowadays, and comic books and associated media are considered mainstream! That means the purist wolf must be

Ah. It's dead.

Well, goddamn it, what the hell? Comic book purists have never really fed well, but it's not like they've been completely starved. As somebody who considers myself pretty flexible in my tolerance of character and story changes between media (different media means different narrative need and format), I often like the changes in adaptations. Plus, there have been plenty of changes that are at least faithful to the original spirit of the characters.

In Marvel, for example, every version of Spider-Man that we've seen in film has at least been faithful to the spirit of the character. Sure, Tobey's version wasn't very funny and created natural webbing, Garfield's version was arguably too cool for school and never said the whole responsibility thing, and Holland's version is way too reliant on other superheroes in his films, but ALL of them are still solid version of the webhead, in my opinion. Plus, hell, Into and Across the Spider-Verse are both more than enough fuel for a comic book purist, even with Shameik Moore's stupid-ass Tweets as of late.

And that's not even counting the Playstation Spider-Man, who's goddamn fantastic (BOTH of them in BOTH games), some of the animated Spider-Men (looking at you, *Spectacular Spider-Man*, unsurprisingly), and even fan-made versions of the character that have made the circulations as of late. Hell, adaptations have been doing better than the FUCKING COMIC BOOKS as of late when it comes to Spider-Man. But, OK, enough about Marvel. Not why I'm here. Just...bear with me, I'll get to the point.

DC has had plenty of faithful adaptations over the years, if not actual straight adaptations that also work all right. Young Justice, of course, is the most recently lauded animated adaptation, while older shows like Batman: The Brave and the Bold, the various shows of the DC Animated Universe (AKA the DCAU or Timmverse), and even more recent fare such as Harley Quinn shows at least an appreciation and familiarity with source material. That last one, admittedly, is a stretch, but Harley Quinn has genuinely surprised me with its attention to faithfulness, and its willingness to be more creative and funny with its alternate versions of classic characters. It was better in earlier seasons, though, just to be clear. But even then...passable.

There's also the animated film adaptations, which haven't been as good as they were in the late 200s and early 2010s, but still have some solid entries. The Crisis on Infinite Earths adaptations weren't perfect, but had their...sparse moments. The Long Halloween was actually quite a good adaptation of the difficult-to-adapt source material, as was Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (even if the TV series did it a little better, although much less accurate). Wonder Woman: Bloodlines is a recent adaptation that's actually VERY good, especially to those who love WW rogues. And if you haven't seen some of the older films, like Justice League: Doom, Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths, Justice League: The New Frontier, Batman: Under the Red Hood, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One, The Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen, Superman/Batman: Public Enemies, Superman/Batman: Apocalypse, Superman vs. the Elite, All-Star Superman, and Superman: Red Son...uh, yeah, please do, they're all excellent.

But, OK, with all of those adaptations, some as recent as last year, why is the purist feeling so deprived? Well...because the bad FAR outweighs the good, especially as of late. Just talking about DC (because Marvel is a bag of angry, screaming Flerkens), the movies have only given us THREE decent adaptations in the last 5 years: the underrated Blue Beetle, which is a quite accurate iteration of the character; Matt Reeves' The Batman, and the associated The Penguin (which was so afraid of comic books that they changed the main character's name to be "more grounded"), and The Suicide Squad, which is...a fitting film to bring up. Oh, and Birds of Prey doesn't count because it fucked over A LOT of characters, especially Cassandra Cain. Just sayin'.

In terms of TV series, well...Young Justice returned, but kinda fell off in the process for a lot of fans. The CW series, with the exception of the excellent Superman and Lois, are...something for another post. And there is Peacemaker, which is...again, fitting to bring up, but also incredibly complicated, and not beholden to accuracy for various reasons. And anything else...doesn't really rate discussion. Yeah, it hasn't been amazing for DC fans, while Marvel fans were eating pretty well in the last decade-and-a-half. So, imagine our delight and joy upon hearing that the DC cinematic universe would be remade by a bonafide comic book fan who was unafraid of the source material: James Gunn.

With Guardians of the Galaxy, Gunn had already proven he was able to swing and swing BIG when it came to comic book characters, having successfully adapted the titular Guardians, and Ego the Living Planet, of all characters. Yes, he severely fucked up Ronan the Accuser and Adam Warlock (like...REALLY badly), and also kinda Drax, but he also adapted Mantis successfully. FUCKING MANTIS. At the very least, he showed that he was willing to go for it. And then, after the firing-and-rehiring from Disney and being brought onto DC as a result, he made The Suicide Squad.

Understand what a miracle this film is, OK? Gunn makes GotG, it's a massive success, and Warner Bros. and DC notices that. So, they make their own GotG with blackjack and hookers in the form of David Ayers' Suicide Squad, which is TERRIBLE, and seen for the rip-off it was. Then, Gunn's old tweets pop up and he gets fired by Disney, and JUST before he gets rehired, WB swoops in and snags Gunn to revitalize the film series that ripped off HIS film series IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND IT FUCKING WORKS. Not only does Gunn make a GOOD Suicide Squad movie that people actually LIKE, but he also adapts King Shark, Starro the Conqueror, and fucking POLKA-DOT MAN!!! And he gets Jon Cena to play Peacemaker, WHICH LAUNCHES ITS OWN FRANCHISE BY ITSELF!!! And with that, Gunn gets brought on to run the DC cinematic universe as their own Kevin Fiege. FUCKING POLKA DOT MAN??? It's incredible!

...Right?

Like I said, Gunn's The Suicide Squad seems like a miracle. Excellent performance, a lot of cool characters to introduce from the DC Universe, and a crazy-ass showdown that does DC Comics some justice. But, uh...hold on a second. The wolf is still starving over here. Because this film cleverly seems like a miracle. In reality, while Gunn made a fun film to watch, he also severely fucked over comic book nerds in a myriad of different ways with this film, because he set a dangerous precedent, while also continuing an irritating trend that he'd previously helped to promote. That trend? In-name only characters, AKA references for the sake of references.

...Fan-service. Gunn is a master of good-looking fan service.

Look, creative license is great, honestly. It's also incredibly necessary. But Gunn has found a way to put in superficial references that draw in comic book nerds, or the comic-book knowledgeable, while also not really even caring about the source material. Sometimes, it doesn't matter. Polka-Dot Man, AKA Abner Krill, is essentially a joke character that Gunn took and made into an actual character. No comic book nerd gives a SHIT that Polka-Dot Man was a Batman villain from the '60s who committed dot-based crimes, using various special devices and gadgets that he turned into dots that he wore. He's essentially a blank-slate of a character, and Gunn took that and changed it completely, but also made the character memorable and interesting (as did actor David Dastmalchian, of course).

In fact, Gunn did the exact same thing with a whole slew of bit characters in the beginning of the movie. Lemme give you a shortlist of the comic book characters that appear in The Suicide Squad, outside of the main cast of character.

Javelin*,Savant*, Blackguard*, Mongal*, Captain Boomerang*, Weasel**, Thinker*, Kaleidoscope**, Double Down**, Calendar Man**, Ratcatcher*, Starro the Conqueror**, and technically Arm-Fall-Off...Man*. Holy shit, that's a lot of characters! What's that you ask? What do the asterisks mean? Ah, right, sorry, I should explain. Characters with two asterisks have little more than a single brief appearance, just for a quick joke or a "hey look, they're here" appearance. And the single asterisks? Those characters die.

And yeah, OK, it's a "Suicide Squad" movie, death is part of the equation. But look at some of those characters again. Mongal? She's an extraterrestrial conqueror, and the daughter of a major Superman and Green Lantern villain. Definitely could be used better than dying LIKE A PUNK. And why is that character even in Task Force X? Starro the Conqueror? I mean, maybe they pull something off and bring him back for a later film, but that's a WORLD-ENDING THREAT, and a fucking JUSTICE LEAGUE villain! And...wait a second, did Gunn kill CAPTAIN FUCKING BOOMERANG???

One of the most iconic members of EVERY comic book iteration of the Suicide Squad (and therefore a survivor), one of the most iconic members of Flash's Rogues, and one of the only semi-decent things about Ayers' Suicide Squad? You gave Weasel, fucking Weasel, a post-credit scene where he survives the beach massacre, and Boomer is just fucking SHAFTED??? For what can only be assumed is a shitty SHOCK-DEATH? WHAT THE HELL KIND OF DECISION IS THAT???

Look...I actually like The Suicide Squad, I swear. It's a fun film, it is a Suicide Squad movie, and it does a good job with character development and the story of the team. Bloodsport and Peacemaker are great rivals and fun-as-hell characters, Margot Robbie gets a chance to actually shine as Harley Quinn, Ratcatcher and King Shark are great, and the fact that Flag and Polka-Dot Man die is actually genuinely affecting. Plus, shit, they made Starro the Conqueror FUCKING TERRIFYING, especially because he's a big dumpy STARFISH!!! I do like it! But...man, these are some controversial fucking choices, and I've never liked them.

And the big problem now? Gunn is running the DCU.

And again, I don't think that's inherently a bad thing, but...man, it has me worried. Hell, look at Peacemaker. While it was a great showcase for its eponymous character (and Jon Cena is stellar in the role), it introduces two characters that get kinda screwed, while also giving a kind of nothing-burger of a villain. I mean, I love Vigilante in the show, but Adrian was a fucking judge in the comics, not a complete sociopathic moron. Funny, yeah, but not the character. And Judomaster? Damn, did that character get completely shafted. Another in-name-only character, even though he's not a character I've ever been super-devoted to.

My problem is this: if Gunn approaches all of his projects, and the DCU at large, the same way he approached The Suicide Squad and Guardians of the Galaxy, this isn't gonna work. And that's not just in terms of how the characters are written or treated, it's his practices of pumping characters into his films, only to dump them and ruining them for the future of the universe as a whole. I mean, hell, he even did it to Marvel. Ronan the Accuser, Ego, and the High Evolutionary are gone from the MCU, despite being characters of enormous potential. But hey, is this a rational fear, or am I worrying for no reason? Well...cue the trumpets.

Earlier today, I finished watching Gunn's Creature Commandos, having kept up with it throughout the season. And understand, when this film was announced, I was super excited about it! I love the Creature Commandos in concept, and they've had a few incarnations throughout the years. It's a fascinatingly fun idea, and I was looking forward to seeing how the characters were adapted. I had my questions and concerns, especially about the roster, but I was intrigued. And what we got was...well, second after I finished it, I wrote this post. And that has sponsored what you're currently reading. So, uh...I have some notes.

Yeah, this is one of those rare occasions where something has made me SO irrationally frustrated, so very and incredibly irritated, I had to write a goddamn essay series about it. And yeah, this is only the first one of these. Can't help it. I'm kinda pissed off. Because Gunn wasted this team, ruined a fair number of characters for the DCU going forward, eradicated a pile of possibilities, and STILL GOT A SEASON 2 APPROVED FOR THIS SHOW. God, I'm worried. And I gotta tell somebody about it.

So, to the...I dunno, 1 to 5 people who actually read this essay, inclduing those whom I know personally (you know who you are, how ya doin'), thanks for reading and, if you're interested, stay tuned. A lot of unnecessary nerd-whining to come, believe you me. And more than a few headcanons, because I'm giving this the same treatment as my Superman essays. So, yeah, buckle in. It's gonna be a ride.

Part One: Introduction and Adaptation Part Two: The Original Creature Commandos

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

For years I’ve passionately hated Imagine Dragons. Are my ears okay? Have I completely fried my brain?? Maybe.

Anyways I’m now capable of screaming lyrics at 5am like my life depends on it. Just when I thought my top artist for the year was secured by Tropidelic.

[humming-fly]

I love how Gerald was trying to keep Shadow from spoiling anything about the future meanwhile literally everything Shadow says and does around Maria is the biggest death flag ever