#backstreet heroes

[howieb-uk]

Back Street Heroes

Bike Shed Show, London

[magedoesstuff]

a lil' appreciation post for men of colour 'cause i saw a tiktok talking abt how average white men get more attention, and me personally i refuse to be a part of that culture

(also just a reason to put these beautiful, beautiful men on everyone's feed, feel free to reblog and add to the list i'd love to see them)

hounourable fictional mentions

[blue-deneb]

dndads as backstreet boys because i’m back on my vintage boy band bullshit:

as long as you love me is normal enlisting taylor, link, and a very reluctant scary to help win hermie back with a song. taylor goes overboard on the backup vocals. scary is stepping and snapping with a completely dead face.

i want it that way is taylor singing to hero with link, normal, and hermie on backup. scary is beside hero, recording the whole thing in order to embarrass taylor later. normal knows hero does not like taylor and is enjoying forcing his sister to sit through this performance. taylor is utterly oblivious, and again going overboard on the vocals.

extra: glenn and morgan danced to an old record of good vibrations by the beach boys in their living room after finding out morgan was pregnant

[autoacafiles]

[petrapng]

my personal wishlist for deadpool & wolverine 2 / deadpool 4:

spiderman

holding out for a hero playing over a fight / slow-mo walk

hugh jackman full frontal (ryan reynolds' idea, blame him)

absolutely filthy, brutal, explicit, graphic gore; blood everywhere, guts spilling; really using all of that R rating

wade leaning in for a kiss, logan seriously considering it before stabbing wade through the throat; wade spits blood onto logan's grumpy face

wade reminding the audience that this isn't/wouldn't be hugh jackman's first gay kiss

their suits getting torn and smeared with blood and just fucking destroyed

logan wearing reading glasses (and wade gives him so much shit for it)

negasonic giving wade gay advice

like a virgin playing to a ridiculous sex scene of wade and logan

some backstreet boys song (e.g. i want it that way)

musical number. hugh sings. obviously. (but it's all just in wade's imagination)

throwback car-shaking scene, but this time the gay sex is not just subtext

[jup1tersparx]

^ ok so funny story i ended up writing so much that it crashed tumblr and i had to split it into two so im putting the screenshots of the tags in this post instead lol (did you know tumblr had a max amount of tags you can add on a post??? i didnt)

also i say it in the tags but warning again this is Quite Long

do you guys think Lady Ethel Mallory is openly trans ONLY because botco wanted to do rainbow capitalism?

[sophrosynesworld]

Reintroductions

Katsuki Bakugo x Badass! Reader

Let's be honest. When Katsuki Bakugo first laid eyes on you, he wasn’t impressed.

You were just another face in the class, another name on the roster. On the first day at U.A., he scanned the list of students, his eyes narrowing as he read over your profile. Top of your class in academics. That was a given. Your combat scores in the entrance exam were decent—not extraordinary, but solid enough.

During Aizawa's first exam, he couldn’t understand why someone like you had even been accepted into U.A., a school meant for future pro heroes like him. He dismissed you as another academic overachiever, someone who could ace tests but would crumble under real pressure.

To him, you were still a small fish in a pond filled with sharks. And Katsuki Bakugo? He was the megalodon.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bakugo’s feet come to a halt as he hears someone shout. His crimson eyes narrow, scanning the city streets. A few students pass through the main gates, chattering excitedly about the day ahead, not noticing the commotion. He’s about to brush it off and head inside when he hears the voice again.

“You don’t think you’re better than us, right?”

There you are, surrounded by several older students from another high school, one of them gripping your wrist tightly. Bakugo’s eyes lock with yours, and for a split second, he sees something burning within them.

He doesn’t want to get involved, really. This isn’t his fight, and it’s none of his business. But he knows that if you get hurt and he just stands by, Shitty Hair will be on his ass for the rest of the school year. Bakugo clicks his tongue in annoyance, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Hey, you!” he calls out, drawing their attention to him. Your eyes widen as the guy holding your wrist lets go, the entire group turning to look at your classmate. Bakugo cocks his head slightly, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips as he locks eyes with the one who grabbed you.

“Got a problem here, buddy?” Bakugo takes a step forward.

You slam your knee into the back of the guy with spiky black hair as hard as you can, feeling the shock ripple through him as he buckles. Before bolting, adrenaline surging through your veins as you run as fast as you can, your heart pounding in your ears.

The older students whip around at your sudden escape, their shock quickly morphing into anger.

“Get her!” a girl shouts, and within seconds, the whole group is after you, their heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement.

Bakugo’s frustration flares as he watches them chase after you like a pack of rabid dogs.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mutters, his eyes rolling. This was supposed to be quick—one glare, one threat, and they’d back off. But no, you had to make things complicated.

With a growl, Bakugo launches himself forward, catching up to the closest one. He grabs the back of the guy’s uniform and yanks him off his feet, slamming him into the ground with a deafening thud. The boy next to him barely has time to turn before Bakugo’s palm connects with his chest, a small explosion sending him flying into the school fence.

“Stay the hell down,” he snaps, barely sparing them a glance before taking off after the rest of the group.

You sprint down the street, your lungs burning as your legs threaten to give out underneath you. You spot a narrow alleyway up ahead and take a sharp turn, hoping to lose them in the maze of backstreets.

But as you skid around another corner, your heart sinks. Three more of your old classmates are waiting for you, blocking your path with smug grins. You stumble to a stop, eyes darting around for another escape.

Bakugo appears at the mouth of the alley, his expression dark as he glares at the three surrounding you. He’s ready to step in, but before he can move, you’re already throwing yourself into the fight.

He watches, stunned, as you duck under a wild swing, countering with a punch to the guy’s ribs, your knuckles crack against his side with a force that makes him double over in pain. Spinning around, you slam your elbow into the face of another, sending him stumbling back, blood streaming from his nose.

The third one lunges at you, his arm swinging toward your head, but you’re already a step ahead. You sidestep smoothly, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back with a vicious yank. He cries out, his face contorting in agony, but you don’t let up. With a swift kick to the back of his knee, you send him crashing to the ground, your knee pressing against his spine as you twist his arm harder. An expert display of grappling your teacher showed you just days before. How long did you stay up to perfect that?

Bakugo’s jaw drops, the air around him suddenly still. He expected you to be helpless, maybe throw a few weak punches and get overwhelmed. But this?

For the first time, he’s genuinely in awe, unable to look away as you dominate the fight.

The guy you kneed in the ribs tries to get up, but you’re on him in a flash, your foot swinging hard. His head snaps back, blood spraying from his broken nose and splattering up your legs as your school skirt flares in the wind. The others stagger back, clearly rethinking their life choices as they scramble to their feet, clutching their injuries. Your old friends run past Bakugo, shooting confused glances back at you. They can’t believe it either—what happened to the girl who used to cry when they picked on her?

A slow grin spreads across his face as you turn, breathing heavily, your eyes scanning the alley for any more threats. There’s that same fire in your eyes, he saw earlier.

“Thanks for the help back there. I could’ve handled them, though,” you say, wiping the blood off your mouth.

For the first time ever, Katsuki Bakugo is genuinely impressed.

Authors note: mama didn’t raise no bitch.

[probablybadrpgideas]

We hoped this time would never come.

But the prophecy has come true, and the end is upon us. Not all of us will survive what is to come. But we must stand against this darkness or none of us shall.

So heroes one and all, I call upon you. To raise your blades and your spells, to protect the innocent and destroy the wicked, to stand against this storm for the good of us all.

But most importantly?

I call upon you to rock your body right.

Because the time we dreaded has come.

Backstreet's back, alright.

[sitp-recs]

livvvv my rec goddess. i’ve recently developed an insatiable knack for draco doing little muggle things, like being obsessed with soap operas, or learning how to bake, or playing board games, or painting a house (??) etc etc. any recs as such perchance?? my eternal thanks x

Love this ask anon, “Draco in the Muggle world” can be such a fun trope! I tried to include a bit of everything but I feel like driving and cooking are very popular in fic, so there’s probably a lot of it here. I hope you enjoy these!

magic in the making by getawayfox (G, 2k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Market Saturdays by iota (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love.

Muggle 'Drug Store Items' by loveglowsinthedark (E, 4k)

Malfoy's interest is caught by a certain Muggle drug store item. (Hint: Flavoured Condoms)

To Make A Way by cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k)

When Harry finds Draco in the back row of the cinema, he doesn't mean to accidentally befriend him. Or fuck him. Or catch feelings. The thing is, Draco only does casual.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (T, 14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Tapestry of Kinship by khalulu (T, 15k)

Harry is at loose ends, Draco is good with needles, and Draco's young daughter wants to see a certain tapestry repaired. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never be the same.

Tuesday Nights by firethesound (E, 15k)

The absolute last place Harry expected to see Malfoy was in a rundown Muggle cinema on a Tuesday night.

Rich Friend by iota (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening by Writcraft (E, 23k)

Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (M, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 30k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

Open For Repairs by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

(Un)wanted by aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy by magpie_fngrl (E, 37k)

Zacharias Smith writes a tell-all about the D.A. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are not happy about it.

Take A Chance On Me by mintaminta (E, 40k)

There's a DJ on RareFM with a secret. Or: the one with all the ABBA in it.

Nights With You by The_Sinking_Ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl (M, 60k)

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

What Turned me Gay: The first BGeast match I purchased - Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)

It's no secret that Bgeast turned me gay. The combination of hot men in compromising situations, muscles straining, humiliating holds; all summed up to ignite something inside of me.  Now while all of that is worth a post in itself, I wanted to devote this time to rekindle a memory specifically about the first Bgeast match I watched, Tag Team Torture 3.  

What turned me gay (not really) ... 

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)

This post, inspired by the sidelineland.com blog, takes a tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)" and in thinking about the topic of gay wrestling, it's helpful to go back to the beginning - at least my beginning as a gay wrestling fan.

The Background Now, when I first viewed Tag Team Torture 3, I had no idea what to expect.  Sure I had watched porn before, but the default for porn back then (and now) was a cheesy few minutes of story line followed by emotionless hard core action.  In those scenes the guys refused eye contact with each other, closed their eyes, and probably thought of their girlfriends or something while they did the deed so in a very big way, bgeast was different.  

Baker and Baker - two reasons why I purchased this match.  Beefier Brian and Tasty Troy. 

In hindsight, I love the Backstreet Boy Look on Mr. Joshua.  This was a very popular look back then - Highlights and a Soul Patch.

And boy was Tag Team Torture 3 different, from the opening scene I realized that the focus was on the wrestling and everything, from the guys lifting weights, to the trash talk; all of this led up to struggle between men.  

Troy and Brian bonding before the match.  They build each other up saying stuff in the tone of 'you're the best, no you're the best'.  They support and encourage each other ... at least for now. 

Compare that to the other team, bragging about how much they can bench or talking shit about their opponents the "beach boys".  There's no building anyone up here, simply tearing the pretty boys down.  

In lieu of porn which hurried to climax and rushed to "get the job done", gay wrestling highlighted the emotions exchanged between our guys and what is sex really except a bundle of intense emotions.  

The Action Finally, 20 minutes in the guys start to wrestle.  I told you that gay wrestling takes it's time and slowly savors each and every popping bicep and ab and now we have the Troy Baker reveal and boy was it worth the wait...

Troy knows what we're all here for. 

And later, Troy swooning over himself.  The man and I are on the same wave length when it comes to admiring that body. 

But all that muscle just begs to be abused. 

Brian Baker is the powerhouse but he can't fight off two men by himself and it's clear that Troy is more interested in himself than on the match.  

Mr. Joshua multitasking by dominating and making his infamous "adjustment".  I love how the back of his hand goes straight from his package to smacking Brian on the back of his head.

Brian: [exasperated]: Lookout Troy!

Vinny: You like that surfer boy?  Troy: *Moan*

The Finale At this point our heroes are done for.  All that camaraderie, the hours at the gym spent sculpting those muscles, all of that vanishes and we are left with a beaten Troy Baker.  

To further the point, our heels double team the helpless Troy while his brother watches on.  Further emphasizing that there is no coming back from this one.  

Troy's abs of steel are put to the test with yet another barrage of abuse.  That golden tan is starting to turn a shade of pink as even those abs of steel have their limits.  

But the real crescendo for this match comes at the end.  When Brian seems to triumph despite the odds and an upset looks possible, that is until a weakened Troy folds under our heels.  It's that moment followed by a betrayal when our gay wrestling saga is complete and the Baker Brothers are finally broken with sound and fury. 

In hindsight it's obvious to see why gay wrestling sucked me in and became my obsession.  I've always loved the emotional highs when I wrestled in high school and bgeast perfectly captured those stories of struggle and dominance multiplied by like 1,000.   You see this story, told through sweat and humiliation is so vivid, so real, that the feelings I get now from watching a 20 year old tag team match are the same as when I first saw them and  is undoubtedly what turned me gay (not really).

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVIII)

New Player on the board

Part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to @neongalaxiie for their comment that made me smile today, I hope you enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose got Kit into the car with relative simplicity. He was surprisingly lighter than before, which didn’t concern Ambrose. Not at all, it was just some information he stored in his head in case he needed it in future. Perhaps this time Ambrose can actually feed the hero properly…

Well, he could decide all that on the way. Right now he had to decide whether or not to throw the hero in the boot or in the backseat. He settled on the backseat, it was easier to keep an eye on the hero in case that red lightning guy came back.

Ambrose suppressed a shiver at the thought of that. That thing wasn’t Kit Mallory. Or, not the one Ambrose knew anyways. It did add to his curiosity about the boy, what kind of life he lived with Mentor. Ambrose set him in the backseat sitting up, hands cuffed in front of him with power dampeners just in case. He strapped the seatbelt over Kit and plugged it in before slamming the door shut and walking around to the driver’s side.

Ambrose didn’t exactly drive… under the radar. He was what his assistant would call a petrolhead, and it wasn’t a nickname he loathed. Ambrose had loved cars since he was five and his parents brought him to a vintage car show. He could still remember the first time he sat behind the wheel of a 1954 Bentley R-Type continental, he knew that he had to have one. A car that was, not a Bentley, he wasn’t some wedding chauffeur.

His obsession with cars only grew from there, from his first Volkswagen to now. His beast, his beauty, his pride and joy: a 2016 Rolls-Royce Wraith, with a monster 6.5 Litre Twin-Turbo V12 engine under the bonnet, custom painted black exterior. He had to get Tony to paint the door handles too (who almost cried when she saw it). Ambrose replaced the original wheels with forgiato wheels to add to the sleekness of the car. Original white, leather interior still as good as the day Ambrose bought it.

He loved it more than anything in the world.

And it was all his.

It represented everything that he wanted people to associate with him. Elegant, opulent, and functional, above all functional. The grace, style and status were just perks that came along with it.

It was late, close to ten when Ambrose got onto the main road. He could take the quick way through the backstreets to his house, but he hadn’t seen the city of like lights for what felt like a long, long time. He took the left into the city and drove along at a leisurely pace.

The radio was playing softly in the background, the Wraith’s purrs making up most of the background noise. Ambrose let out a soft sigh as he pulled up to a red light. He glanced in his rearview to see Kit still fast asleep. No red veins or blue ones, his head lolled against the window.

There was something so innocent about the gesture that made Ambrose look sharply away, eyes turning front again. He never had a little brother or sister, but in that moment, some small part of him — some delusional, sentimental part — wondered if this was what it was like. Checking the rearview to make sure that his brother was sleeping soundly, that he wasn’t showing any signs of pain or distress, or psychotic mania.

He wondered if he would be a good older brother in this hypothetical. Then he quickly disregarded the thought. Such a silly little thought experiment. Besides, of course he would be a good older brother. He would be the best, hands down, no doubt about it. Even if his passenger in the backseat would disagree.

His mind was wandering dangerously, simply because it was so quiet. It had to be because it was quiet, so Ambrose turned up the radio louder, but the song that was playing just ended. Instead a news reporter started speaking urgently.

Ambrose shook his head, tapping his fingers on the wheel when the light turned green just beside Hero plaza: well, Mentor’s memorial garden, more specifically.

“Stay out of the city tonight, there is a rogue Villain, perhaps Supervi—”

Ambrose didn’t get to hear the rest of the news report. When the light turned green he was already moving past the intersection, heading straight, driving through the Hero Plaza in the centre of the city.

His eyes were fixed forward so he didn’t see the hailstorm of debris from a shattered building coming from the right. He didn’t see the Supervillain levitating where Mentor’s statue should have been.

Ambrose didn’t see what was happening to his right. More like he heard it. A sudden onslaught of panicked thoughts that weren’t his raced through his mind and he panicked along with them.

What! They’re never this strong! Not unless— Ambrose glanced to his right and saw Villain levitating ten metres off the ground. As if meeting his gaze, the villain threw his hands forward and a hailstorm of debris went racing towards them.

Ambrose hit the gas, manoeuvring the gears quickly as he took off. The debris fell behind the Wraith, some stones clipping the tail end as he swerved a sharp corner, trying to cut off Villain’s eyesight from the car.

Of course, this was the same moment that Kit woke up. His head hit off the window of the car and he groaned, reaching his hands up to rub the bump. “Ambrose?”

Ambrose’s black eyes caught Kit’s in the rearview mirror. Something hard in them alerting Kit to the danger. “We have a problem.”

“A problem?”

Just as Ambrose was about to drive back into Villain’s sight line, debris like meteorites fell in front of them, tearing up the road ahead of the Wraith. Ambrose slammed his foot on the brakes and the pair jolted forwards in their seats.

“What’s going on?!” Kit demanded, searching the windows to try and see what the commotion was all about. Behind them Kit could see a pile up of cars, people screaming and sirens already blaring. “Ambrose!”

Ambrose’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his face paler than usual as his chest heaved up and down. “There’s a Villain by Mentor’s memorial garden.”

“What?! Let me out!”

Ambrose didn’t reply. Kit went to unhook his seatbelt but Ambrose stopped him. “Kit! It looks like they have telekinesis,” Ambrose said through clenched teeth.

It felt as if the debris fell on Kit’s chest, crushing it from the inside out. A disbelieving what? fell from his lips. His vision seemed to narrow to a pinpoint, his lungs slowing his breaths. His voice raised a little hysterically: “what do you mean they have telekinesis?”

“It’s just what I saw.”

“Well you saw wrong!” Kit argued, his eyes wide and desperate. “The chances of another telekinetic—”

“I know—”

“Do you hear what you’re saying?! There’s no way—”

“I KNOW!” Ambrose barked. His own emotions thrown through a loop at the information.

A long, choking silence passed between them, though they were both thinking the same thing: that Villain can’t be Mentor.

~*~*~*~

Four blocks away a new Supervillain was making their mark in front of the Hero plaza. He was levitating off the ground, bits of debris from Mentor’s memorial statue circling around him like moons of Saturn.

Superhero tried not to think about how much this Supervillain reminded him of Mentor. He really tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t stop himself. The likeness was uncanny, and it was rare for two people with the same abilities to emerge in the same city. It happened but it was rare.

Telekinesis. And not just that, a mastery of his ability, how effortless the destruction seemed to him. An unwillingness to yield.

This must be Supervillain, and if it was Superhero was hesitant to engage. Which sounded terrible as the leader of the Heroes but, even leader’s get scared.

Supervillain was fighting four seasoned Heroes and Superhero all at once — not to mention Tides who was the only new recruit there — without breaking a sweat. Superhero had tried to call Kit, but no luck. Supervillain’s face was covered by a mask and he wore civilian clothes, as if this was a casual affair for him. Like he just walked off the streets and decided, why not cause some chaos? Sirens and emergency services rushed to the scene of people in need, people who had been hit by the debris.

Thankfully, it looked to be a small amount of casualties due to how late it was, but still. Something was wrong with the scene, and Superhero needed to find out what. If that Supervillain… was actually Mentor or not.

And if so, how? How was he here? Why had he escaped and turned out like this? What was going on?! A Supervillain? Threatening the city? That wasn’t Mentor’s way… unless this was Omen’s plan all along, to destroy the legacy of a great man. To make the great man a monster and destroy it himself.

Supervillain inclined his head at Superhero, raising his hand palm up and flexing his fingers goading Superhero into a fight. Superhero lunged for him, bouncing from one building towards Supervillain. When he was in mid-air, Supervillain made a wide sweeping gesture with his arm and a hurricane of rocks and concrete hurtled towards Superhero.

He dodged between the initial wave, but he didn’t expect the second. Mentor’s stone arm caught him around the waist and the pair went flying into a building.

While Superhero was distracted, Supervillain turned his attention to Tides. He aimed for the water under her feet keeping her in the air, wiping it away with a sweep of his arm. Tides cried out as she started to fall, but Supervillain caught her, keeping her suspended in mid-air.

Superhero recovered quickly, and went soaring again, taking the wind in his wings with a grin. It felt so good to let them out again. His eyes zeroed in on Supervillain, hoping he would realise Superhero was behind him too late and they could all go home and sleep in their beds tonight.

At the last second, right before Superhero made contact with Supervillain, Supervillain turned their head to Superhero. Superhero’s eyes widened but it was too late, they had committed to the movement, already in mid air. With a sweep of his hand, Supervillain sent Superhero back two blocks, tumbling onto a rooftop. His wings wrapped around him cushioning his fall as he rolled.

Supervillain turned back to Tides who was struggling in his hold and shot towards her. He grabbed her by the neck, and threw her down onto a roof behind her. Tides almost passed out from the impact, her entire body arching as breath was stolen from her lungs. Her body bounced off the concrete, like she was a rag-doll being thrown before rolling to a stop, gasping in air. Supervillain followed her with easy steps, before kicking her onto her back and standing above her. He pressed his foot down on her chest.

“Where’s Malyn?” Supervillain asked, tilting his head. Tides cried out as Supervillain’s foot gathered telekinesis behind it and forced her down into the concrete, cracking the roof around her. A small crater Tides shaped now etched on the rooftop.

“I won’t tell you,” Tides said through gritted teeth. The pressure increased and Tides screamed, her hands flying to Supervillain’s ankle and clawing at it, trying to get it to budge. Supervillain put his hands in his trouser pockets, as if this were a casual conversation, like he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Tell me or I’ll break every bone in your body, Tides.”

Tides abandoned trying to dislodge Supervillain’s foot, and instead gathered a canon of water behind him. She splayed her fingers and the canon blasted towards Supervillain before losing momentum as Tides let out a blood-curling scream.

Her wrist snapped like a twig, leaving her arm useless as she tried to summon water. The pain was blinding, but Supervillain didn’t let up for a second, moving his foot idly from her chest to her broken wrist.

“Where,” Supervillain asked again, leaning forward so more of his weight pressed on Tides’ wrist. “Is Malyn?”

“I don’t know,” Tides cried out, her mind going blank as the pain burned through her, tears blinding her. “I don’t know! I don’t!”

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed above her. “I don’t believe you.”

Tides screwed her eyes shut and looked away, not wanting to see the final blow coming. She wasn’t masochistic enough for that, quite happy to live in blissful ignorance.

Then the pressure was suddenly off her with a thump of body meeting body and Tides' eyes flew open. Supervillain was gone, and Tides took to sobbing. She glanced at her mangled wrist and felt bile climbing her throat. Every breath was an effort as she tried to sit up and failed, opting to just lay on the roof, motionless and cry.

Superhero shot like a bullet, barreling into the new Supervillain and flying away from the city to the local park instead where there would be far less casualties. Superhero threw Villain down to the ground with a terrifying force and floated down after him.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose kicked the car into reverse just as Kit saw two figures flying over the night sky. “Ambrose! We have to go after them! That’s Superhero!”

Ambrose hooked his arm over the passenger seat, turning to look back out the window as they reversed.

“Do I look like I care?” Ambrose asked, meeting Kit’s glare. “Genuine question, Mallory. Do I look like I give a shit what happens to the number one fuck up in the city? Cause if I do, I need to fix that.”

“This isn’t some joke! Stop the car. Let me out! Let me go, Ambrose.”

“No.”

“That could be Mentor!” Kit yelled after Ambrose turned front again and manoeuvred around the debris in the road. Kit huffed out a breath through his nose reaching for his seatbelt.

“Don’t touch your seatbelt if you know what’s good for you, Kit, I swear to God. I will knock you out again.”

Desperation rose in Kit’s stomach as Ambrose took a backstreet shortcut to get out of the city. Kit could only watch as they passed the park. Superhero was hovering over the trees, throwing a body down into the grass when Ambrose sped past.

~*~*~*~

Supervillain rolled until he gained ground beneath his fingertips and got to his feet two metres away from Superhero.

“Who are you?!” Superhero demanded, voice livid.

Supervillain tilted his head but said nothing. Superhero’s lip curled back into a snarl and he shot off again, leaving a small crater where his feet were. Flying wasn’t exactly a great superpower, but it was what Superhero had and he learned to use it to his advantage in fights.

He flew at Supervillain, drawing his fist back with a roar and aimed for Supervillain’s cheek. Supervillain lifted his forearm, diverting the blow. He punched Superhero in the gut, a jab, then an uppercut. Superhero dodged back, pushing off his heels as his hands outstretched going for Supervillain’s porcelain mask.

Supervillain ducked, swiping Superhero’s legs out from under him. Superhero dropped, his back barely hitting the ground before he launched himself towards Supervillain.

Supervillain moved with speed and grace, as if he’d been fighting all his life, and he didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. Superhero, on the other hand, was tiring quickly, not used to the amount of power and focus he was using to try and land a hit on Supervillain.

Supervillain went to sweep his arm. Superhero caught it with a death grip, grinned and spun. Planting his left foot in the ground he pivoted and threw Supervillain as far as he could. Supervillain went flying backwards, getting caught in the leaves of a tree. The branches split and broke around him, a tear in the earth opening from where Supervillain had split the tree open to let himself down.

He wiped the leaves off his shoulders and Superhero grinned. Maybe he can be beaten. Superhero launched himself at Supervillain again, not giving him a chance to recover.

“Enough playtime.” Supervillain said.

Supervillain lifted a hand lazily and Superhero froze in mid-air, the air turned against him, freezing him in place. Superhero’s eyes widened. That’s not possible. There’s no way that he’s… that that’s Mentor, there’s…

Villain walked slowly towards Superhero, taking his sweet time about it. He stopped in front of Superhero, mask to face. “Don’t you recognise me, Superhero?”

Superhero flinched at the voice. It was disguised, which… no, there’s no way that was Mentor. Mentor was always transparent and never wore a mask. He wouldn’t.

But then again… that’s when Mentor was a hero, a symbol of peace and justice in the city.

Villain reached out and grabbed a fistful of Superhero’s hair, yanking his head back. Superhero grit his teeth but didn’t cry out. “Where’s Malyn?”

Superhero’s shock must have shown on his face. “What?”

Villain yanked their neck back farther and Superhero couldn’t contain the groan from the strain. “Malyn. I want him. Now. Where. Is. He?”

Superhero frowned. Surely Mentor would know where Kit lived? But then… no, he wouldn’t. Kit moved after Omen drove Mentor crazy.

“You won’t find him.” Superhero said, huffing a breath out through their nose. Supervillain hummed. He stepped back and clicked his fingers. Superhero’s body moved at an impossible speed, back snapping against the bark of a tree and Superhero cried out.

Supervillain didn’t stop. He was dragged back along the dirt by his ankle, as if being pulled by an invisible lasso. He blacked out from the blow, but his brain shot him back into consciousness as his back was dragged harshly over the terrain. Supervillain came into view again. Superhero’s body was forced up as if suspended from the air, hanging like a limp puppet.

“Malyn, Superhero. I don’t have the patience for this game of cat and mouse.”

“Why… why are you—” Superhero’s breath hitched as his body contorted against his will. “D-doing this?”

“I want the boy. If you don’t bring him to me in three days, I will destroy the rest of the city, and all of your pathetic heroes.”

Supervillain closed their hand into a fist and Superhero screamed. “Have him meet me at the Hero Academy, 10pm. Alone. Any funny business and I’ll make sure that Tides dies, do you understand?”

“T— Leave Tides alone! Take- take me!”

“Oh, I would,” Supervillain said, opening his fist again. Superhero fell to the ground, his head slapping off the dirt. Supervillain crouched down in front of him and with a gloved hand tilted Superhero’s chin up. “But you have the best chance of getting me what I want. The boy for Tides. Hero Academy. Three days. 10 O’clock, got it?”

Superhero let out a broken breath of air which Supervillain took to mean yes. Villain slapped Superhero’s cheek. “Good boy. At least you still know how to take orders.”

Villain disappeared after that, leaving Superhero shaking in the dirt.

~*~*~*~

Ambrose didn’t even bother to make Kit forget the way to his house. If he was honest, he was exhausted. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. They pulled up to Ambrose’s house, stopping in front of two giant gates. Ambrose pressed a button and the gates opened.

“What are you, Batman?” Kit asked as he took in the mansion they were driving into. Ambrose chuckled at the comment but didn’t reply. The gates closed behind them as they drove in. The driveway was long, like something out of a movie and had a fucking roundabout at the entrance to the house.

Ambrose opened the door and stepped out. He walked around to the passenger side and opened Kit’s door, pulling the seat forward. “You can get out now, child.”

“I’m not a child,” Kit grumbled, obeying the order.

“Yes, you are,” said Ambrose with a sigh. He slammed the door after Kit got out, locking the doors over his shoulder with a click of his keys and a flash of lights. “You don’t do anything without being told, and you push boundaries like a fucking toddler.”

“Yeah, your stupid enforced boundaries because you’re a fucking control freak, and everything has to go Ambrose’s way! Right?!”

Ambrose ignored him, unlocking the door to his house and holding it open from Kit to follow. Kit scoffed and walked inside.

“You know this whole silent brooding thing is really starting to piss me off!” Kit told him.

Ambrose shut the door and locked it. “Your irritation is duly noted. I’ll file it under I don’t give a fuck.”

Kit whirled on Ambrose again, about to tear him a new one but paused. Ambrose stood pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, laboured sigh. Kit bit back his gripes.

“Tell you what,” Ambrose said eventually. His voice soft and so un-Ambrose like. Tired, Kit realised. It was as if all energy had been zapped from him after the drive, and maybe it was. Adrenaline had a habit of doing that to you. Ambrose took the key for the cuffs out of his pocket and tossed it. “You can sleep on all of the names you want to call me, and tell me over breakfast tomorrow.”

Kit caught the key, eyes wide with surprise as he unlocked the cuffs around his wrist. He glanced up at Ambrose, but Ambrose was already making for the stairs with tired movements. He lifted a hand without turning back to face Kit.

“Take whatever room you want. I honestly couldn’t care less.”

Kit stood shocked as he watched the villain ascend the staircase straight from the titanic to the second floor. Disbelief ebbed to his own wave of sleep that overtook him and he followed Ambrose up the stairs. He could think more tomorrow. Sleep would bring clarity. He could think logically in the morning.

Kit took the door closest to him and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his jacket off, unzipping his jeans, stepping out of them as he fell into— fuck this was probably the most comfortable bed he ever lay on.

That was his last thought before the blackness swallowed him, eyelids falling heavy over his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[ibelievewhatyousaid]

season 5 abnos are here!!!!!!!!!! i’d like to briefly cover them, because oughuehhghhh (sounds of pain) i’m so excited…..!!!!

hurting teddy bear!! given to sinclair and rodya and subsequently donqui!

so, i think it’s important to mention that hurting teddy bear is a little different from happy teddy bear, at their core they do share longing for connection and hurting those around you. happy teddy bear deals with the yearning in abandonment, being left behind it grows attached and possessive of what it has left and it turn hurts those it can finally grasp as its own.. makes sense angela got it, yeah! but, hurting teddy bear doesn’t specifically mention abandonment, in fact the encounter points out once or twice that it has spent a very long time in pain, “it is an empty void,” in a literal sense and metaphorically and, “perhaps it is unable to feel pain.” there’s a huge focus, both design, encounter and choices that it doesn’t quite “long,” the same way happy teddy bear does, if the other holds out enough hope to embrace and hold tight to not be left again, hurting teddy bear doesn’t even try, all it does is leak and bleed. i think the dichotomy of the names shows this as well, despite the sorrows of happy teddy bear it still IS a happy teddy bear. hurting teddy bear has always, for as long as it can remember, been hurting and yearning for something it won’t have.

i think this plays into the three before differently, sinclair obviously was close to his family before the dissonance he feels later in life, he mentions how he enjoyed and fond comfort in them eating together, sinclair doesn’t strike himself as being very close to his peers, either, in which kromer and damien are seemingly the only two others in his school that draw importance. unlike the weight he gives his family and why their changes grow uncertainty in him. his “world fo light,” is directly his family, by the push of kromer does he enter the “other side,” i think his resonance with the abnormality is born from seemingly losing that innocence (much like a teddy bear being outgrown and left) and that “world,” he loved. unlike lobcorp’s bear, there is no hope here, why would there be? he’s lost his family and he lost them far before their actual deaths. he was drifting from that idyllic fantasy for awhile, he feels thrust upon the world, forcefully taken from his egg before hatching and told to fly. he’s longing for that connection again, to feel the warmness, when he didn’t know how the world was, but that won’t come to be. he’s attached to something long gone.

now, rodya’s is interesting! especially the animation difference and her general demeanor. rodya has “broken,” her charade before in ids AND ego, there is a specific reason why hers looks so cheerful! her animations include her almost puppeteering, i think this is to play into the fact rodion can’t be honest to herself, she knows how reality is, in all aspects— she knows she’s not special, she’s not a hero, nor is she “elite,” (which just comes.. more and more clear as events pass, war hero? vampire noble? random rookie with some blessing mark to be a leader? what is she, just some poor backstreet resider?) rodya is clearly mournful of her situation, even if she doesn’t admit it, the faces of people she knew are trapped in ice and she refuses to defrost their memories of identities, she can’t and won’t accept the consequences of her actions because that would be admitting she wasn’t all that. rodya refuses to drop her appeasing persona because she has prided herself on being someone worth this weight of “team’s support,” she likes being seen as inflatable and needed, i mean, if she wasn’t there to crack a joke here imagine how dark the room would be..?

rodya clearly longs for connections, her relationship with sonya is obvious to that, but, even when sonya hands her out the perfect out, free of any pain and suffering, (well if no one can lose, how can rodion win?) and no judgement— rodya throws herself out into the cold to be miserable juuuust awhile longer. it makes since that despite her longing for connection she won’t succumb to that unsightly attachment, she plays above it, and manipulates it, too. you can see the puppeting as multiple things, that as much as rodion can care people around her, they will always be at expense of her safety in her act or that she plays with her own outwards image and puppets it into something appealing to her. either way, i don’t think they’re “wrong.”!

DON QUIXOTEEEEEE. i feel insane thinking about her, don longs for connection— this is kind of obvious, it’s subtle but don mentions “compatriotes,” and “companions,” frequently, the only other sinner whose put such a focus on friends is yi sang. all of don quixote is about the people around him, specifically people playing into his fantasy to “cure,” him, even as he tries hard to get people to play into his delusions (i.e, his truth, really) people hold it over his head to drag him to his senses or mock him. don quixote is quite fond of the sinners, we see her care in multiple instances, as early as canto three she’s the first person to step in, and even has an honest and true moment with sinclair, it wasn’t born to start violence or because he had done something wrong (really, donqui of all people would support going wild on evil fiends.. motwe guys!!) she did it because she knew it wasn’t what he actually wanted. in canto four she throws herself into the explosion to save the other sinners, dongrang puts it: “it must be the faith that they will come back to life at any time that prompted them to jump into danger without hesitation. not out of any sort of friendship or affinity... isn’t that right?” meursault, who also jumped in, declares that it was simply the most logical situation to protect dante and keep the mission going but don isn’t ABLE to answer, you could say this is simply because it was the “righteous” thing to do, but dongrang pointing out how it “couldn’t have been friendship,” backfires that point. donqui spends all their time on the boat worrying about yi sang, in heathcliff’s distortion logs she tries to praise him and put things lightly, she wants to be around the sinners like asking to play chess with sinclair or reading the news with meursault or wanting to cosplay with heathcliff!

this is a long tangent, but these are all very small moments, but it’s important to get across how integral bonds are to donqui, especially added into the context of her familia as a vampire. don quixote longs for human connection, but she cannot have it, we don’t know her general background or reasons why, but even AS don quixote, she isn’t understood, she’s deemed inconvenient, insane, she wants people to understand her, but none have ever tried. when ishmael tells her she’s sick of hearing about her delusions and “isn’t about time you finally woke up?” it stuns Don into silence and being uncomfortable. even disregarding the natural line between her being a “monster,” looked down by society, her “human persona,” isn’t able to be loved properly either.

ROSE HUNTER..!! okay, i actually called this abno (same with carmilla but that was quite later) but it makes perfect sense! rose hunter is about, you’ll never get this, a rose hunter hunting down an apple, an apple that is destined to be a princess one day. the apple tries to hide (to different layers of success depending on choices) and the rose hunter is insistent on dragging them back into their proper course. “stories must follow their natural courses,” / “if this is what the story dictates, i will have to follow it.” now i won’t go too much into faust and hong lu because we don’t have their cantos, but it definitely fits their perceived roles, for hong lu that is his family, he doesn’t fight the instances or unfairness, as seen in tkt, he seemingly accepts it all as it comes, at least on the surface, of just being how things are. same with faust, although you can take it as her connection to mephi and faust’s deal with the devil and the plans that started limbus, seemingly being the connector and getting the ball rolling for limbus and setting up every sinner, her line of, “we both know our places,” in tkt really emphasis this. faust doesnt have much autonomy, she simply does her role and keeps it moving, by her words with donqui’s reveal, limbus has everything planned out pretty consistently, and she seems to just be the messenger. that’s what makes rose hunter so fascinating, as much as it traps others in the story, it itself is trapped in its role! now with don quixote! i think don fits both as the rose hunter and apple, don tailors her world into very black and white thinking, she draws people into playing along, at least in her head, things are very one way or the other, either you are acceptable or not. when people break her fantasy she dejects them off, her switching between red gaze and vergilius based on whether he still meets her expectations, to donqui it’s her world and we’re all living in it. that’s naturally the hunter, how knights must exist and be righteous, they must save the weak and they must continue to exist. they have to, to her. and you either fulfill that role or face wrath from her. now, she fits the apple even more so i say, given the plot of both man of la mancha and don quixote. the entire time is them trying to drag him home, they play into his fantasy in aims to manipulating him home. he HAS a role to play, and it’s not that. i think it’s even more prominent with how bloodfiends are written about, a “stageplay,” faust says, and how cassetti breaks and renters his role of “prince,” even though he ran home, he can’t drop that act. he’s afraid of being found again. now adding that to don quixote’s plot line, she’s ran off to become a “righteous fixer,” but she has a role to fulfill, she has a way this must play out. she already is someone, if

this is a somewhat unrelated tangent but i also think “princess,” is quite interesting parallel given don’s appearance, hers directly mirrors dulcinea’s description: blonde hair, rosy cheeks, eyes like suns (orangeish eyes as well as stars in them! which what are suns if not stars?) with other lines like her peasant talk in korean and addressing dante with higher respect. there’s a lot of more stuff, I’m not saying don = dulcinea, but, i think it’s an intriguing connecting nonetheless! pm is very intentional with character design.

carmilla! the star of the show, really. it’s so, so beautiful, and i’m hyperfocusing on donqui here, (sorry meursault)

OKAY, first, the ego being named “yearning mircalla” which is carmilla’s real name, the yearning is important because carmilla wanted to be understood and loved by the women she formed bonds with, she yearned for that love and relationship. meursault and donqui fit because of that desire too, meursault in the stranger feels ostracized by people around him, like he doesn’t “fit in,” right. he follows the motions and indulges in societal expectations but he can’t quite ever “fool” anyone into thinking he’s someone like them. don quixote is naturally like this, he is unable to be understood or seen as a person with autonomy and reasons, he runs away from home because alonso is very much miserable from his life, that was his escapism. this works double time with don quixote being a bloodfiend, a lot of bloodfiend context we’ve gotten has focused on them being animalistic, monstrous, a “twisted” being that once was human. sasha is desperate to live and pleads for her life, cassetti says him and all other bloodfiends are disgusted with themselves, elena says she must be longed to be an ordinary human once again. they’ve given up their honor and faith in efforts to survive, and it’s a burden quite heavy— all their humanity.

the way their designs are different is really telling, i’m kind of mind blown how great don’s is, meursault, by all accounts, is still human. donqui has sharp nails, red eyes, slits in them, meursault lacks all these designs, he’s still just.. him. meursault has a rose covering his eye, a wrap around of vines on his head. but that’s it. don quixote in comparison has thorns all around her, in fact they’re coming OUT of her, the top of her head, it isn’t a headband, theirs thorns seemingly piercing out of her skull, including the blood stains on her hair where they lay. her boots are entrapped in thorns, to the point “the thorns,” and “her,” are one in the same, it’s so visually blurry especially in the animations that they LOOK like one huge mass of danger. thorns pierce out of her on every angle and they trap her. meursault is still human, despite it all, (at least from what we know??? but safe to say!) even through his disconnect of humanity, he, nonetheless, is apart of it. the flower blocks out his vision from maybe even seeing the truth of that, too blurred to get the whole picture, this looming thought he is abnormal. while don, from her every being, isn’t one. the vines and flower on meursault are a whole separate entity. donqui IS the flower, she is the rose, she is the thorns, they’re born from her and escape her, they hold her hostage and work as her. she isn’t human, she can’t be, and the abno drives that point home, she is the danger and the abnormality in society— to draw back into the “could’ve been something beautiful,” line in the encounter, a rose is beautiful, to the point people forget about the thorns. but the rose won’t, because, it isn’t “the rose” and “the thorns,” they’re the same being. even in meursault’s disconnect of being human, he IS one. don quixote’s disconnect can’t be soothed, because she isn’t, and it’s clear as day. (Also fun fact, meursault’s rose is bleeding down, but donqui’s is clearly being controlled by her like bloodfiends do! another blaring difference.) with the context of don BEING the rose and its thorns, it makes the destructive smash of it even more palpable.

that’s all my thoughts I could remember! i probably have more that just escaped me. sorry for any misspellings and whatnot, I’m just soooooo excited for canto 7, I’m !!!$2?!3!&??!! Love don so much im excited to see how it plays out (<- haunted by questions. why is there an orb there?)

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 7)

Wherein Kei contemplates punching people. Not even all of the same people as a second ago.

(a rather intense thing I've been saving up for, since my birthday was a bit busy.)

Across the way—and notably between Kei and the first guy who’d been stabbed—Stain chose this moment to break into the conversation. “So, you knew your friend might seek me out?” Stain asked, still leaning forward into a clearly aggressive stance. “And you showed up to save your friend’s life. You even made a big entrance. But I have a duty to kill him and this so-called pro. When your friend chose to fight me, it guaranteed that the weaker one would be culled.” 

Oh good, a zealot. 

“So, what will you do?” Stain growled.

While Midoriya reached back for his phone, Kei stepped up as a distraction and delivered the most carefully neutral sentence of her entire stay in Tokyo: “I’ll make you a better offer. If you back away now, we’ll let you go.” 

Iida couldn’t jolt and didn’t swear, but the next words out of his mouth were a betrayed, “Gekkō-san, no!” 

“Either he’ll leave and get caught by someone like Endeavor, or he won’t, and we’ll fight,” Kei said quietly, “and I’m not afraid to fight.” She sounded mostly like she was leaning on her nonexistent PR training, but with four witnesses, she couldn’t just grab the man and make him eat pavement without even a token attempt at negotiating. 

Sure, she hadn’t given that first Nōmu a chance, but he’d also been in the process of beating Aizawa to death at the time. Like with Midoriya’s opening punch tonight, stopping an ongoing attack mattered more than manners.  

And besides… “He’s human enough to have a choice.” 

Not a chance. Because he didn’t. But a choice. 

If the Hero Killer committed to attacking, then he earned the right to suffer consequences. 

And Stain pulled a knife in addition to his word, which was as good as proof that a) free will was wasted on him and b) he had no idea what Kei’s “Quirk” was. Kei doubted Midoriya or Iida could actually see the movement, between the darkness and the fact that Stain was generally pretty sneaky about it, but it did mean that she had little interest in negotiating further. 

“Listen to me!” Iida insisted. Agonized, angry, and unable to do anything about either. “Stand down and run away. I told you, this has nothing to do with you!” 

“If you really believe all of that, then why are you trying to become a hero in the first place!” Midoriya snapped at Iida, silencing him. As he raised his fists into a ready stance, he muttered, “There are plenty of things I have to say, but they’ll have to wait.” Then, louder: “All Might was right, though. Meddling where you don’t have to is the essence of being a hero!” 

Oddly, that appeared to strike more of a chord with the serial killer than the hero student still on the ground. Stain’s lack of a nose—seamlessly so—actually made his grin dominate his features more than anybody without a mutation Quirk. And Kei counted that skull-faced kid in 1-B when making that judgment.

Midoriya lit up in green sparks again. He could launch the second Stain blinked. 

Stain shifted to meet the inevitable charge, already swinging his katana.

Kei made the Dog hand seal and flooded the alleyway forward of her position half a meter deep, careful not to risk drowning Iida. And while both Midoriya and Stain paused to recalculate their traction, Kei flowed through four other hand seals and shoved her clasped hands forward with her chakra firmly behind the movement. Isobu’s strength backed her all the way.

Water Release: Water Wall. 

The entire alleyway was suddenly flooded. Kei kicked her way upright with the patience of an apex predator as her costume’s flowing bits trailed behind her. 

Suffice it to say that nobody got to move without her permission. 

While Kei took the time to form air bubbles around the heads of each participant in their backstreet brawl, her strength now ruled. If the USJ Nōmu wasn’t able to escape her grip despite being geared toward fighting All Might, nobody here had a shot. Especially not a pissy murderer who wore that much metal. With a wave of her hand, Kei yanked Native and his cloud of water-dispersed blood back toward safety, shoved Stain toward the other end of the street, and reeled Midoriya in all at once. Within thirty seconds, she’d entirely rearranged the battlefield so that her charges were behind her while the only legitimate target was in front. 

Though the water did represent a minor communication problem. 

It would not for you alone. 

Unfortunately, allies also make very good witnesses. 

Kei pushed forward until she could lock her hand around the immobile Hero Killer’s throat. She didn’t yank him out of the water, but instead formed a Water Prison around him and dismissed most of the excess from her direct control. With it mostly rushing downhill, the sudden wave would miss Iida and Native and likely end up somewhere more useful, such as within Manual’s range. 

“So,” Kei said, as mild as if they were talking about the weather. Drawing Stain’s face partially out of the Water Prison, she flicked water off her other hand. “How’s this working out for you, Hero Killer?”

Stain took a moment to cough. Sure, he spat water out so it almost reached her face, because Kei had been a little less careful with his breathing than the others’, but perhaps that was the cost of this restraint tactic. His lack of a nose did not help. Then: “If I die purging the world of the unworthy, then so be it. Nothing is more of a stain on this world than the festering corruption of a society that ruined the name ‘hero.’ It falls to me to teach you all a lesson.” 

Kei sighed. Half the reason she’d grabbed this big fish physically came down to the possibility he’d bite her, but she didn’t actually enjoy playing straitjacket for a murderous shithead. “Get a license and then we’ll talk.”

“How long can you hold him there, Gekkō-san?” Midoriya asked as he darted over to check on Native and on Iida. His entire hero outfit made squelching noises as he moved, but Kei didn’t have the time to fix that for him yet. 

“Long enough.” Which translated to “until she got interrupted,” which was standard for the Water Prison technique and a shinobi with Kei’s huge chakra reserves. “But if I do lose my grip, I’m probably going to punt him over a building,” Kei admitted, “just to get him out of our way.” 

“Okay. Then, when you drop it, can you grab Native? I can take Iida-kun.” 

Well, assuming the Hero Killer didn’t try to live up to his name… “Should be fine.” 

There was the occasional clanking sound as Midoriya got each of the others into a rescue position. Native tried to talk him into just calling for a pro to help, but knowing that the entirety of Hosu was already being attacked and the emergency responders were tied up put a mild hole in that plan. Midoriya even said so. For some reason, that worried Native a little less than the serial killer Kei had already subdued. Maybe that was proximity talking.

But more piercing than that was Iida’s protest. “Gekkō-san—if he’d hurt your brother, you can’t tell me you’d just walk away from this!” 

It rang through Kei’s skull for a moment. Like a flashbang. Her left hand twitched with the urge to make a fist. 

Fuck him for bringing up Hayate right now, was Kei’s initial thought once the ringing stopped, but she stomped it down as spiteful and unworthy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in a crisis threw her weaknesses back in her face.

At least you know what they are, and that they are unreachable.

“Tensei didn’t deserve that,” Iida continued, still as angry, still as heartbroken. His voice cracked. “The—the only reason the Hero Killer lashed out at him was because he was a legacy hero! For wanting to make our family proud. All my brother ever did was help people!”

And the Hero-Killer scoffed, as though annoyed that Iida still had enough sense left after percolating in vengeance to call him on his bullshit. “From impure motives—”

Kei shoved Stain’s face back underwater rather than let him finish that sentence. He’d survive, but Iida didn’t need to hear his spewing hatred any longer. Then Kei glanced back over her shoulder toward her companions, while Midoriya got the other two into rescue positions for an easy grab-and-go option. Perfect for fleeing upset heroes and angry murderers as needed. 

[enter-the-phantom]

My top moments of Semifinals Night 1:

-“Don’t blame me, I voted for Finland too.”

-Ukraine going from Circle of Life to a giant lesbian cuddle pile

-Swedish twins Backstreet Boys but make it knockoff cyberpunk

-Serbia getting ready to sink the Titanic

-Ireland bringing us all to tears with the trans flag costume reveal

-Gay boxer shower sex but in space

-Finland not changing a damn thing about their staging because it’s perfection. The effects and choreo cleverly blocking our hero’s junk was just *chefs kiss* 👌🏻

-Poland fighting for her life against life size chess pieces while borrowing Joost’s shoulder pads

-Kaarija mention

-Epic Sax Guy mention

-That one couple that came in 20th but was actually the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life

-Shoulder dancing

-Laser show farm animals

-Zaachariaha Fielding Michael Ross (I’m dumb af) actually being the most Australian looking dude one can imagine

-That one guy in the audience on the Peacock broadcast who was definitely being held there against his will

-“For the vegetarians, vegetable lasagna without babies”

[neon-kazoo]

Boo!

The lights flickered, and Hero froze.

A subtle chill crept into the alley. A stray breeze…perhaps.

Perhaps not.

As subtly as they could, Hero shifted one foot behind the other, turning back in the direction from which they had come.

In October? No way they were sticking around when electricity starts going haywire and the hairs on the back of their neck stand up.

Before they could advance halfway down the backstreet, a ghastly moan sounded from what seemed like around the corner.

Hell no.

Hero fought villains, not the paranormal.

They took off on light feet, skittering to a stop only when they saw a shadow looming at the end of the alley.

That was no normal shadow. It was slowly growing larger.

Afraid of turning their back to the approaching…whatever was lurking there, Hero slowly shuffled backwards. They took one step, then another, their heart barely contained by the rib cage it was beating fiercely against.

On the third step, they backed right into a solid chest.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” Hero screamed. They fell backwards in their attempt to scramble away faster than they had ever moved before.

The figure they soon recognized as the villain simply peered down at them with a lazy and amused smile.

Upon realizing that the person in front of them was, in fact, not a soul-sucking specter, Hero scoffed in annoyance.

“You.”

Villain chucked, then asked innocently, “What’s wrong Hero? Scared of ghosts?”

The hero picked themselves up and brushed themselves off as casually as they could, which wasn’t very casual at all.

“Scared of the undead’s restless spirits with potentially vengeful intentions?” Hero questioned, tilting their head. “Why yes, yes I am.”

“Seems childish to me.” The villain crossed their arms, knowing eyes still managing to look down on the Hero that was now standing tall in front of them.

“The veil is thin, Villain. There is no harm in watching out,” They stated ominously.

The villain blinked, their smirk faltering for only a second before returning to its full force with their next comment.

“Nice scream, by the way.”

The pride was written clear enough on their face that the hero had no doubt they had indeed orchestrated this whole ordeal.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Hero warned confidently, producing a small smirk of their own.

It was ok to give the villain a warning, they’d still never see it coming.

“Good luck,” their nemesis taunted.

Villain must have unfortunately forgotten about a certain eight-legged phobia of theirs. Hero sure hadn’t, and they knew as certain as they believed they could sense otherworldly presences that the villain would be getting a visit real soon.

[holylulusworld]

Eras

Written for @fluffystevefest - Day 3

Summary: Steve recalls the different eras of his life.

Pairing: Post!Endgame Stucky

Warnings/Tags: angst, mentions of Steve/Bucky’s past, not much dialogue, implied Stucky, fluff, hopeful ending, no reader insert this time

The room is silent when he looks at all the things belonging to his past. Steve admires his old tactical suit, feeling the past weight heavy on his heart.

On the Fourth of July in 1918 a special man was born. An artist. A loyal friend. A super-soldier. A hero. Steven Grant Rogers.

He lost his parents much too soon and became an orphan. Without Bucky, he would’ve ended up dead in a backstreet of Brooklyn and no one would've remembered the name Steve Rogers.

Without his parents, Steve had to grow up fast. He was barely a teen, but his determination and gumption never got shattered.

At the age of 23, in the year 1941, his life changed once again. He wanted to become an artist when Bucky and Steve heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor. So many lives were lost in an inhuman war.

Steve was small and weak but with a heart so strong and kind that he wanted to do something, anything to change the world for the better.

But, like so many times before, he got turned down when he tried to enlist. While his best friend Bucky immediately got accepted, Steve was rejected.

All of his efforts turned out to be in vain. No recruitment center wanted to accept him. Steve was so strong-willed but too weak for them. Defeated by his own body Steve grew even more desperate.

Two years down the drain, and he still tried to follow his friend to war.

1943, the year his whole life changed again. A new era. A new life. But also, the end of a big part of his life. Skinny Steve, the weak boy who wanted to go to war.

Steve walks past his tactical suit to look at the remnants of the Howling Commando. Sadness grips his heart when he gets reminded that almost everyone he knows is long gone.  

His eyes drop to his hands, and he sighs deeply. If he had the time, he’d mourn the loss of his friends all over again. They are long gone, only a memory in the back of his mind. But he doesn’t have time. There is never enough time.

Not since he met Erskine, and the man saw more in him than a boy with a big heart but a weak body.

Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

He never forgot Erskine or his words. Steve tried to live up to Erskine’s expectations. Whenever a battle came up, small or big, Steve was there. He gave it all, his strengths, his blood, sweat, and tears.

Erskine was the first one to believe Steve could be more than what everyone else saw in him. He knew the man he chose would never abuse the powers he gave him.

Even though, no one else believed in him for a while. He was a puppet, reduced to a showboy throwing punches at imaginary enemies while Bucky was out there, fighting the good fight.

He moves toward his bike, longingly looking at it. Steve always had a thing for bikes. But this one reminds him of times in which he wasn’t a man out of time. An almost one hundred- and six-year-old man.

Steve looks around the empty museum before he slides his fingertips over the bike.

“Punk, it’s not allowed to touch things in a museum!”

Moments ago, Steve was lost in the past and grief but now his eyes light up. “Says the man stealing stuff anytime he comes here,” he flashes Bucky a smirk. “What brings you here?”

“I came around with my bike to pick a certain birthday boy up,” Bucky mirrors Steve’s smirk. He steps closer to grab Steve’s hand, intervening fingers.

They look at the memories of their past, holding hands.

Steve and Bucky came a long way, but they promised each other till the end of the line…and they intend to keep that promise…

Tags in reblog.