#unlike me who is normal who is normal normal

[feathery-dreamer]

I think they're scared to see you change from what they'd hoped you'd become. It's tradition or something, you produce offspring and it leads up to something you view as "success". You're not doing it for yourself, you're doing it "for them", you're doing it because it's what parents do.

For my parents' generation and many before them, success was "get a nice job to make money, marry a nice woman (if you're a boy) to make children". The only acceptable change was if your social and/or financial status ends up being better than theirs.

My father was baffled when I finally confronted him, backed by professional opinion, that I have a mental illness. He also immediately felt guilty when I uhhh, came out as gay during one of our awkward pow-wows. He'd built so many of his hopes on me being "normal", unlike my sister with her autism diagnosis from childhood. I'm pretty sure he was quite traumatized to find out I was, in fact, "not normal" and many of my issues were symptoms.

And of course, their love and support are conditional - once you become better off than they are (particularly when they're old), you're expected to take care of them in return. Because of course, you owe them your entire life, for not leaving you out to die while you were a newborn who had no idea wtf was going on and how to fend for yourself.

Which means, if they want you to be a certain way or do things in a certain manner, it's your imperative duty to follow that desire.

You must obey your parents because only they know what's best for you.

Why do you do this to them? Why are you so ungrateful?

I’m so happy when I’m on T. I feel so good physically when I’m on T. but when you tell that to people who are “just worried about your health and well-being”, somehow the conversation slips sideways into some other angle they think they can attack from. “but we don’t know what these hormones will do to you”, yes we do, it’s been exhaustively studied. “but people won’t accept you,” yes they will, it’s only you doesn’t accept me. “but x, but y, but z, but, but, but….”

it’s so boring and transparent. and I’m done with entertaining it.

[violentdeliiights]

my baby

eek this is my first time properly writing for ghost gasp

this was supposed to just be a quick little drabble but i kind of got into the writing mood and couldn’t stop

also disclaimer i have never first hand played the games, but i’ve watched friends and family play them so any inaccuracies please ignore!

cw: details of car accident, hospitals, angst, female reader (i think that’s all pls let me know if there are others)

word count: 1.8k - not proofread, ignore any mistakes thank youuu

Simon could feel something was wrong.

Something in his bones, a rippling wave of nausea, a shift in the breeze on the back of his neck.

The other lads had always made a joke of his seemingly supernatural levels of superstition, how he was able to almost always accurately predict when or if something was going to go wrong.

Information had been from a dodgy source? Simon had guessed from the way Gaz had dropped his mug of coffee that morning.

One of their safe houses was infiltrated? Yeah, he’d known something was coming after Soap had stubbed his little toe getting out of bed and they’d heard the Scot’s high-pitched swearing from the mess hall.

They were being ambushed whilst on a seemingly harmless mission? You guessed it, Lt. Simon Riley had warned them in the helo the day before that Price’s favourite hat going missing was a sign.

One thing about Simon- he never, ever ignored his intuition.

So the forlorn look on Price’s face as he approached Simon’s hulking frame in the gym caused his stomach to drop. He’d been stood supervising Gaz and Soap training the newbies when that god awful sensation washed over him- and now he could tell Price was going to confirm that feeling.

Turning to face the Captain when he reached his side, Simon nodded out of respect, “Cap’n”.

The sigh that he received in response only made his stomach plummet further.

“Simon,”

Price never called him by his first name. Only ever Lieutenant or Ghost.

Something was really wrong.

“…it’s your girl. She’s in a bad way.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Unlike your husband, you’d never been one for superstition. All those things online about a woman’s intuition made you feel slightly out of the loop- you don’t think you’d ever predicted something bad before it happened.

In some ways you were thankful; you never lived with the lingering sense of dread and suspicion that Simon seemed to. You’d never woken up filled with anxiety over something that was a possibility.

However, in some ways, it was a curse. Every bad thing that had ever happened to you or your loved ones seemed to blindside you. Breakups, whilst sometimes predictable, had always gutted you in a deep, physical way. Betrayal, death, accidents, injuries. They all seemed to hit you deeper when you never saw them coming.

Being stabbed in the back hurts worse when you can’t see the knife coming.

That was why that morning had felt like just another Thursday. Your normal day to go food shopping, knowing the supermarket would be relatively quiet and that you would need to stock up for the weekend when Simon tended to snack like nobody’s business.

You had just packed up the car with the bags, pulling out of the car park and onto the large roundabout the led onto the main road.

Just like every other time you’d made the trip.

Only, those other times didn’t include a huge Land Rover who hadn’t seen you in your tiny Volkswagen Beetle- the one your husband had bought you when you’d told him it was your dream car as a little girl.

The Rover pulled out just as you passed him, driving head first into the passenger’s side and sending your car spinning, careening out of control and straight into a sign post on the other side of the road, tipping the car onto its side.

The accident had happened at such a speed that you hadn’t even mentally understood what was happening before your eyes closed involuntarily, shards of glass from the smashed windshield and doors littering your skin, your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, cuts all over your body and your seatbelt digging painfully into you.

Your last thought before your body shut down was the face of the man you loved.

✯ ✯ ✯

Simon had never driven as fast in his life.

He was well over the speed limit, his foot on the accelerator almost parallel to the floor.

The hour drive to the hospital from the base took him 25 minutes.

He hadn’t even bothered with a response when Price had informed him of which hospital you were in, Gaz and Soap only looking up from their training when they heard the door slam after him, the gym feeling slightly colder than it had minutes prior.

He had no doubt that the rest of the task force wouldn’t be far behind him: you had become somewhat of a staple around the base over the years, bringing the boys hot meals, helping with odd jobs, making sure they were all taking care of themselves.

Sometimes, Soap would come to you with his issues instead of Ghost- that was when you knew your husbands colleagues were more than just colleagues. You had been welcomed into their little dysfunctional family.

Throwing his car into the first parking space he found, Simon stormed into the reception area, his aura more that of Ghost than Simon with the palpable anger and tension radiating off of him. The elderly receptionist seemed to cower in his shadow looming over the desk, ignoring the funny and fearful looks he got from the rest of the waiting area as he barked out your name.

“R-room 414, pet,” He made a mental note to thank the woman a bit more softly and charged his way down the hall to the stairwell. The lift would only hinder him and he knew fine well he would run up a million flights of stairs to get to you. Hell, he’d scale Everest blindfolded. Wrangle the moon with a rope. Anything. For you.

After reaching the fourth floor, he flung the door stairwell door open and began his search for you, scouring each and every door number until he found it

Despite his earlier efforts to get to you as quickly as possible, he felt himself take a shuddering breath before he dared to enter- he had no idea what he was walking into. The only information Price had been given was that you’d been hospitalised a handful of hours ago. It was harder to reach a next of kin who worked on a military base, apparently.

When his eyes landed on you in that hospital bed, the only thing keeping his legs from giving way beneath him was the thought of getting to you.

Your usually glowing face was pale and sunken. Your lovely rosy cheeks he loved to pepper with kisses were hidden beneath tubes and cuts. A bandage wrapped around your head skewed your hair from his sight. The feeling of seeing you lying there, helpless, relying on machines to keep you going was so much worse than any bad intuition he’d ever felt before.

He would swap places with you in a heartbeat. No physical pain would ever compare with the utter devastation he was experiencing. His heart was no longer in his own chest, but lying battered and bruised in a hospital bed attached to machines.

His large hands swept delicately over the side of your head, “My baby,” his voice wavered, heavy with fear, “My sweet girl. What happened to you, baby?”

The taste of salt on his lips was his only sign that he was crying.

Big, bad, Lieutenant Simon Riley. Ghost. His name drove terror into the hearts of men across the globe.

Reduced to tears at the sight of you.

His knees hit the floor by your bedside, both of his hands delicately cupping your bruised face, “Come back to me, baby. You promised forever, yeah? I’m holding you to that,” A quiet sob ripped from his throat before he could control it, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek and moving to bury his head in your stomach to muffle any more sobs.

Simon had no idea how long he had been sat slumped over you, still on his knees yet not willing to leave your side for more than a second to grab a chair. He would never let you out of sight again. Judging by the fact that the sky was significantly darker by the time he heard the door open, he could tell he’d been here for a while. Jerking his slumped head up to the door, he left out a silent breath of relief when a familiar face appeared with a sorrowful smile.

“Hey, Si. How’s our bonnie lass?” To Soap, you had been their girl since the moment Simon had introduced you to the group. His best friend- second only to your husband.

When Simon said nothing, only looked at him in silent despair and flickered his eyes back to you, Soap pushed open the door and revealed the other two men stood patiently behind him. Filtering into the room, both Gaz and Price removed their hats in respect as the three of them came to stand by your bedside but Simon couldn’t remove his eyes from you. His baby. His sweet, funny, intelligent girl.

“Hope you don’t mind, LT- we found ‘er doctor a bit ago, asked ‘im what happened, thought we’d give you some space,” Price’s voice had never been so soft, so cautious not to disturb the sullen atmosphere of the room, “Said she’d been in a car accident. Some idiot had pulled out on her, thankfully on the passenger side so she avoided the brunt of it,”

“They’ve said to let her rest, should hopefully come round in a bit, but she’s gonna be sore for a while,” Gaz finished Price’s explanation as gently as he could, knowing his LT’s tendency to become protective and hostile at the flip of a switch.

“She’ll be just fine, Si. Just needs her beauty sleep.” Even Soap’s usual humour couldn’t calm Simon. Someone had done this to you. You were in her because of the careless mistake of someone else.

He wouldn’t leave your side. Never again.

✯ ✯ ✯

Price had managed to coax Ghost into a chair before they’d left to return to base, hoping to save his knees and back but allowing him to stay with you.

Simon had resumed his previous place of laying his head gently on your stomach, clutching the hand closest to him in both of his.

At some point, the utter terror he had been feeling since the minute he saw Price’s face that afternoon caught up with him and he had passed out, still clutching your hand.

The feeling of gentle fingers weaving into his hair was what stirred Simon from a dreamless sleep, confusedly lifting his head to see you looking down at him with a pained smile when you caught sight of his red-rimmed eyes. The only time you’d seen your husband shed a tear was at your wedding.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he took in your eyes. Your beautiful, open, awake eyes. He’d never take those eyes for granted ever again.

“My baby.”

[tiyawnyana]

So this is a special request sent in by @reader210 , thank you for the request! I loved your idea and want to turn it into a multi-chapter story so this is chapter one!

A/N: I actually had so much fun creating this story because the characterization was a blast

Characters: Mel Medarda x Fem!Doctor!Reader

Warnings: nothing explicit, brief swearing, general confusion

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

An Apple a Day

Chapter 1

Synopsis:

Everything was normal- everything was starting to become better, pieces falling into place. You got your new position within the hospital secured, you were thinking about getting a dog, maybe even a cat. Life was beginning to make sense.

Until you end up in an entirely new world, apparently.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Footsteps echo through the halls, a soft sound in these vacant cells as you munch on the fruit given to you a Iittle while ago.

You huff, annoyed and tired with this insane situation.

You didn't expect this- to be somehow spawned into another world. One minute, you're in your office finishing some paperwork for a patient, the next, you're collapsing in the middle of a huge room, seemingly a meeting of elites to some sort.

You remember the shrieks of surprise, the throbbing in your skull as you weakly pushed yourself up with your palms. Your glasses had flung off in the events, nowhere to be found so now you're stuck with fuzzy vision and locked away while whoever figures out who and what you were.

You lean against the cold wall, huffing softly as you rub your fingers into your temple, feeling another headache brewing.

Footsteps get closer, entering the cell hallway and you sigh, rolling your eyes as they get nearer.

You see the fuzzy outline of someone, squinting to try and make them out but no such luck.

You groan as they stop at your cell and you decide to get up, pacing closer to the bars.

“Well? Figure me out yet?” You sass sarcastically.

“I don't think you're in a position to be sarcastic,” the woman murmurs, and you're almost convinced you hear a smirk in her tone.

“I don't think I'm in a position to do anything, I'm afraid, but here we are,” you smirk, leaning against the bars.

She's silent for a moment, gaze seemingly boring into you and you feel heat creeping up your neck in embarrassment. You avert your gaze, huffing softly.

“The Counsel hasn't figured out the cause of your appearance.. Where are you from? Noxus?”

You raise a brow in confusion and question, turning your gaze back to her,”Where the hell is Noxus? I'm from Chicago-”

“Chicago?” She echoes, bewildered,”I don't recognize your accent-”

“Typical brit, huh?” You try to joke but it falls flat. You swallow, looking away again.

“What is your position? Status?”

“Uh- what?”

“Your title,” she speaks firmly.

You look back at her despite her still blurry form,”Uh.. Doctor?”

“You're a Doctor?” She echoes, seemingly surprised,”In that uniform?”

“What's wrong with my uniform?” You look down at the white doctors coat with your soft navy cardigan underneath.

“I've never seen that kind of uniform on a doctor- seems unfitting-”

“Okay-”

“That- is not the main focus of my visit,” she sighs, before lifting her hand and handing you something.

“What's that-”

“Your glasses.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you grab them from her hand and quickly put them on, wincing at the slight blur before your vision comes back into focus and redirecting your gaze back to the woman before you.

Jesus- this woman is gorgeous. Unlike anyone you've ever seen- what?

“Uh- wow,” you murmur, eyes wide as you take her in.

“What?” She tilts her head in confusion.

You figure you must be dreaming. Some drug induced coma, for sure.

“You're stunning,” you say smoothly, uncaring for any embarrassment you'd surely feel if this was real life.

Her gaze widens in surprise, before she quickly masks over it.

“The counsel wishes to conduct an interview, an investigation of sorts to understand your appearance,” she speaks smoothly, bringing keys forward before hesitating,”I trust you'll behave?”

You snort, giving her a nod,”Yes, I'll behave. I'm just as curious as you all are.”

She eyes you for a moment before unlocking the cell, sliding the bars open and beckoning you forward.

You step out, stretching your arms above your head before inhaling sharply in surprise when a guard approaches quickly, cuffs on display.

“Those won't be necessary,” the woman speaks firmly, brushing her hand to signal the guard.

You eye her carefully,”Thank you.”

She nods in silence.

“What's your name?”

She rolls her eyes, ushering you to walk out and you huff a soft laugh.

She walks beside you, leading you through halls with the guard following behind. You can't take your eyes off of your surroundings, enthralled with the architecture and some paintings on the walls.

“This is one insane dream,” you murmur to yourself.

“A dream?” The woman echoes, shaking her head,”How interesting.”

You remember these doors, suddenly nervous at the sight of the giant, overly designed wood as you recall being dragged out of the room behind them.

They open, revealing that those same people from before are seated in their same chairs.

You're pushed forward by the guard and you out of reflex turn to smack at his hand but the woman waves the guard off as she beckons you to follow.

“In the center, if you will,” she murmurs, walking away for circle the table back to her own seat.

You listen as requested, hands clasped together at your front as you stand in the center, feeling as if you were under a microscope.

“Uh.. hi,” you wave awkwardly with a sheepish smile.

The doors open again, a higher pitched voice gaining everyone's attention and you turn to look, only for you to find nothing. They're still talking, though, and you follow the sound to the head of the table when a small person? Seats themselves down.

“It's about time we figured out this anomaly!” He grins through quirked ears and a bushy mustache.

Your head tilts, confusion etched into your face.

“Counselor Medarda, have you found out any new information about our guest?”

The woman, you learn now is something Medarda, turns to nod in his direction.

“Our guest is from what you called Chicago? I am unfamiliar with it-” she turns to look at you.

“Yes- Uh, Chicago, Illinois, to be exact.”

“Illinois-?” A man echoes, and you turn before stifling a smirk.

The blonde man was the definition of a twink back home.

You shake your head, refocusing as you face the head counselor,”Yes, in America?”

His ears perk, eyes narrowed as he peers back at you,”We don't know what you're talking about, this America- there's no lands here by that name.”

“What now?”

Counselor Medarda sighs in defeat,”I truly don't believe we'll find anything of ill intent here,” she speaks smoothly,”Counselor Heimerdinger?”

Your head turns to the head counselor- Heimerdinger, as he furrows his thick brows.

“You don't look of Noxus style,” he huffs,”Nor any other land I've ventured through. I'm curious, what was your occupation?”

“Oh- I'm a Doctor, sir,” you respond sheepishly.

“A Doctor! Impressive,” he smiles genuinely and you're surprised to find delight in that,”I think we could find use of you while keeping an eye on your movements.”

“Use of me-?” You echo in confusion.

“Oh, yes! I believe we could very well use your talents,” he looks to the other counselors.

Some honestly look as if they care less, that one twink in particular, but as your gaze flicks back toward him, you catch onto Ms. Medarda.

She's looking at you with a certain look, a glint to her eye, like she found something worth investing in.

Heat creeps up your cheeks and you don't hear anything else, too occupied with the golden freckles dusting her cheeks and her near hypnotizing eyes.

“Then it's settled!”

You whip your head back to Heimerdinger, expecting the worst but he's got a genuine, friendly smile on his face.

“You'll be under surveillance, of course, but we want to understand your form of healing- perhaps it is different in this.. Chicago?”

You nod in understanding, smiling shakily,”Of- of course, uh-”

“Counselor Medarda and Shoola will lead you around, you will have a stationed enforcer keeping an eye on you until we can determine that you are not a threat.”

You nod again, hands tightening at your front out of nerves.

“I expect weekly reports, have them set up the east wing for board and the first floor for an office for her,” he grins back at you,”I do hope to see good things from you.”

He calls the meeting to an end, hopping down from his chair and exiting the room with a few of the counselors following behind you.

Counselor Medardo waves off Shoola, approaching you from behind before stopping.

“Doctor?”

You snap back into focus, turning to look at her.

“Ready to go?” She beckons toward the door.

You take a moment to reply, nodding in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” You manage to say, following her out of the room.

“That was your interview, investigation, call it what you wish,” she waves it off.

You look at her in bewilderment,”Was that counselor made of metal?”

“Counselor Bolbok?” She side eyes you in confusion.

“Sure, whatever-”

“Hold on.. you've been looking confused,” she turns to you, stopping in the hallway.

“No shit, Sherlock, I’m confused-”

“Sherlock?” She questions, face scrunched in confusion.

Your eyes go wide, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, stressed,“Ok- what is happening.”

She just raises a brow, that confused look still on her face.

“What was that!” You huff,”Counselor Heim..”

“Counselor Heimerdinger,” she finishes.

“Yes- what?” You laugh in surprise,”What.. is he? In the least disrespectful way possible.”

She's quiet for a moment before sighing in defeat,”You really aren't from here.. are you?”

“That's what I've been telling you-” a headache begins to form,”Did I somehow end up in an entirely new universe? Huh?”

She covers her mouth, hiding the small laugh at your expense.

“Heimerdinger is a Yordle,” she murmurs with a grin,”Bolbok is a gaseous being- he controls his metal exterior.”

You look at her as if she'd grown a second head,“What the hell is a yordle?”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: I just needed an excuse to describe Salo as a twink sorry not sorry

[enbysiriusblack]

"I spoke to Dumbledore about it but he refuses to do anything without proper proof."

James sighed, "Sirius, I really don't think Remus is some kind of spy at all, look he's always been a bit closed off."

"Pete believes me."

"Yeah well, Peter worships you, of course he's gonna believe you."

Sirius huffed and took a sip of his coffee before turning back to James, "He moved out, James, without a single reason."

"I know", James bit his lip before admitting to Sirius, "He asked me to loan him money to rent a place."

"And you agreed?"

"Of course I did. He's our friend!" James threw his hands up, "Look, I love you Sirius and usually I'm all for going with whatever you want, but Remus would never do that to the order. There's a reason there's no proof."

"Well", Sirius leaned against the arm rest and lifted his feet on top of James' coffee table, "We know there's a spy within the order, so why not him?"

"Because we know him? Whoever the spy is, I can promise you it's no one we're friends with."

The door banged open, Peter Pettigrew yelling out a quick 'sorry' before making his way into the living room and taking a seat by Sirius' side.

"Hey, Wormy" Sirius nodded to him in greeting, "I'm just trying to convince James here that Remus is the spy, but he's not fucking taking it."

"Oh", Peter hummed, picking his nails anxiously, "He was just at home, came to grab the rest of his stuff from our place."

"See", Sirius smirked, turning back to James, "Why exactly is he moving out?"

James sighed again and leaned forwards, "Because you two apparently keep glaring at him every time he enters a room and whispering to each other and Sirius keeps making snide remarks."

"I always make snide remarks!" Sirius scoffed.

James smiled slightly before folding his arms, "He doesn't feel comfortable staying somewhere where he knows he's not wanted."

"Well we wouldn't have a problem with him if he wasn't working for fucking Voldemort."

Peter edged around Sirius to look at James, "He has been acting weird."

"How?"

"Well Sirius said he kept staring at him whenever he thought Sirius wasn't looking and he kept trying to ask Sirius where he's going whenever Sirius went out and he's been acting distant and a bit on edge ever since we found out about a possibly spy in the order."

"Yeah", Sirius patted Peter on the back, "Exactly!"

James glanced between his friends, "Did you consider that could be because he's nervous about a spy being in the order and the dangers that could bring to us?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, "I mean it's a possibility, but unlikely. Look I'm not saying Remus is some kinda blood supremacist or whatever, but we know he's shit at standing up to people and if the death eaters cornered him and threatened him or whatever, can you really see him fighting back? Standing his ground?"

James thought about it for a moment, eyes drifting over to a photo of Remus on the mantelpiece and shook his head, "No, no. Look Dumbledore will find out who the spy is and then we'll all go back to normal and have a nice night out or something."

Sirius gave Peter a look of disbelief but nodded to James, "Fine, alright. But for now? We think Remus is the traitor, and even if you don't believe us, just be careful around him, alright? You and Lily? Just in case."

James nodded, despite not believing his two friends in the slightest, "Alright, fine. But if we're being extra careful around Remus? Then we'll be careful around everyone? If you think someone as close to us as Remus could be a spy, then we trust no one but each other and Lily."

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I think that's reasonable."

Sirius wrapped an arm around Peter, "Just us four."

James smiled at his two friends, watching them as they sat on his and Lily's sofa, joking around together and smiling. He felt a pit of guilt in his stomach, at promising to not trust Remus, one of his best mates. He did still trust him and he'd still give him whatever money he needed, but he'd create a bit of a distance like he promised. For all their safety.

'Just in case' he thought, as Peter smiled innocently at him.

[666anxiety666]

HAI HAI HAI CAN I REQUEST A FIC WITH DAISUKE (<3) AND CURLY WHERE DAISUKE IS IN A LEE MOOD AND GOES TO ASK CURLY FOR TWORDS I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SILLY THEY’RE SO SILLY (not in a romantic ship way) AUGH

OOP-

🌺just ask🌺

Mouthwashing tickle fic

Lee: Daisuke Ler: Curly

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Daisuke didn't know what was wrong with him... why on gods earth was he feeling this way? all day, all damn day he had been flustered and shy. this was obviously very unlike Daisuke. why was Daisuke acting like this you may ask? it all started that morning on the tulpar.

"morning Daisuke." Curly mumbled as he entered the kitchen area of the ship. Daisuke smiled and opened his mouth to respond. but instead of ruffling Daisuke's hair like he normally did, Curly poked Daisuke's side, drawing a small yelp from the boy.

thankfully no one was around to see or hear, only Curly who chuckles as he grabs whatever it is he's getting from the fridge and walks away. Daisuke sat there flustered out of his mind, and he had been like that all day. the slightest touch setting him off and making him shiver.

that evening, Daisuke was laying in bed. still replaying that same moment in his head over and over. what the hell was wrong with him?! Daisuke couldn't take it anymore. he left his room heading down the hall.

now we are here, Daisuke standing outside of Curly's bedroom door. he debated even going through with this. asking Curly, the CAPTAIN, of all people to TICKLE him?! "god damn it, Daisuke..! just knock and ask... I'm sure he wont mind..." Daisuke paused "no, NO! you can't ask him THAT! what am I even doing? oh man, this isn't a good idea-" Daisuke's words caught in this throat when Curly's bedroom door slid open, revealing Curly himself standing there with a confused look.

"Daisuke? what are you up to?" the captain asked, a small huff of a chuckle leaving his throat. Daisuke froze. "C-Cap! I-I was um... I, well..." Daisuke trailed off, he had no idea what to say, he was so flustered. Curly chuckled, placing a hand on Daisuke's shoulder, causing Daisuke to shiver. "why don't you come in, kid?" Curly smiled, already slightly pushing Daisuke before the younger could protest.

Daisuke sat on Curly's bed. the room was organized and laid out nicely. Daisuke was so flustered, unsure what to do with himself other that sit as still as possible on the bed. Curly sat next to him after a few moments.

"so... what's got you so worked up? and don't tell me its nothing. you're not really quiet when talking to yourself." Curly chuckled. Daisuke cursed himself in his head. "something about wanting to ask me something..?" Curly asked. Daisuke looked away. "I-It's embarrassing, Cap..." Daisuke stammered out.

Curly blinked before huffing softly. "I'm sure whatever it is, its not as embarrassing as you think, kid..." Curly smiled, holding his hands up. "I won't laugh, i swear." Curly chuckled. Daisuke looked at Curly for a split second before looking away once more. god he hated this.

"can you like... do the thing you did this morning..?" Daisuke asked in a quiet voice. Curly raised an eyebrow. "what thing?" Daisuke huffed. he was really going to have to do this, wasn't he? "y-y'know... when you did the thing, you... tickled me..." Daisuke mumbled out in an almost whisper. Curly blinked. "when i what? come on, kid. spit it out-." "can you tickle me again, damn it..!" Daisuke blurted out. his face quickly went red once he realized what he just sputtered out.

Curly paused. it was quiet for a good few seconds. just as Daisuke was convinced he had weirded Curly out. Curly chuckled. Daisuke's gaze was quick to land back on Curly. "you said you wouldn't laugh!" Daisuke exclaimed.

Curly continued to chuckle for another moment before calming slightly. "sorry, sorry, it's just... that's all?" Daisuke blinked. "what do you mean?" Curly rolled his eyes slightly. "I mean is that what you got yourself all worked up about? it's not a bid deal, kid." Curly pat Daisuke's shoulder.

Daisuke was dumbfounded to say the least. "I-" Daisuke was suddenly cut off as Curly's hand moved from his shoulder to his hips, going right for the kill. Daisuke almost jumped like ten feet in the air, letting out a loud squeal. "CUHUHURLY! WAHAHAHAHAIT!" Daisuke instantly tried to pull away, but curly was quick to hold Daisuke down.

"what's wrong, Daisuke? isn't this what you wanted?" Curly chuckled. a small smile on his face as he dug his thumbs right into Daisuke's hips, making the young intern squeal and kick his legs weakly in a failed attempt to get away. "THIHIHIHIHIS ISN'T FAHAHAHIR!" Daisuke thrashed, trying to divert Curly's attention elsewhere.

"oh fine, fine..." Curly let up a tiny bit by moving to Daisuke's sides. Daisuke was still giggling like crazy, have face all pink. "is that better?" Curly asked, half teasing but also half caring. "s-shuhuhut uhuhup!" Daisuke giggled. his hands latched to Curly's wrists, but not pushing him away.

Curly gasped in mock offense. "shut up!? do you speak to your mother with that mouth? and hear I was going soft on you!" Curly instantly moved his hands once more, this time to Daisuke's tummy. forming his hand into a claw and digging in without mercy. Daisuke shrieked. throwing his head back as he cackled. "NOHO! WAHAHAIT! IM SOHOHOHOHORRY!" Daisuke pleaded desperately.

even though Daisuke was fighting this, he genuinely needed this after basically suffering all day. "CUHUHURLY PLEHEHEHEASE!" Daisuke squealed. jolts of ticklishness sparked through him as he weakly kicked his legs again, only for Curly to pin the down with his own. "Please what, Daisuke? I'm not doing anything..." Curly teased with a small smirk as he played innocent, still clawing at Daisuke's poor tummy.

"maybe if you say sorry I'll stop..." Curly trailed off. Daisuke was trying so hard to push Curly's clawed hand away, even though he didn't want Curly to stop. "JUHUHUST FUHUHUCKING STAHAHAHAHAP!" Daisuke pleaded franticly, secretly dragging this on more. Curly tsked. "you're gonna play this game, huh? how rude, no manners at all..." Curly chuckled.

"fine then..." Curly pulled his hand away. Daisuke panted, thinking it was over, much to his disappointment a little. however, before Daisuke could think anything further, Curly was blowing a raspberry right onto his stomach. Daisuke screamed, instantly trying to push Curly's head away.

"AHAHA- W-WAAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEASE!" Daisuke Pleaded through squeals of frantic laughter. it was a shock no one else on the ship heard Daisuke and thought the poor boy was being murdered. Daisuke's please fell on deaf ears as Curly kept it up. Daisuke was loosing it. kicking his legs harder, his hair now a mess covering his bright red face.

Curly kept up his raspberries for a minute or two before taking pity on the poor intern who was bright red to the point it reached his ears. Daisuke panted heavily, curling up on himself and hugging his stomach as he giggled even after it was over.

"oh man..." Daisuke huffed, his hair a wreck. curly chuckled "you okay, Daisuke?" Curly asked softly, helping the younger sit up. "y-yeah... that was..." "Good?" Curly butted in as he nudged Daisuke's shoulder. Daisuke's face flushed a little. "h-hey! it was... okay, maybe..." Daisuke trailed off as he averted his eyes. Curly laughed, ruffling Daisuke's hair.

"nothing to be embarrassed about, kid..." Curly said softer. "you can ask anytime you know..." Curly carried on, his eyes meeting Daisuke's once more. Curly smiled, poking Daisuke's side one last time, causing the young boy to yelp. "it'll be our secret, huh?" Daisuke sighed with a small chuckle, rubbing his side slightly. but he nodded, feeling relief. "yeah... thanks cap..."

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

loved writing this! took multiple takes cause I couldn't figure out how to write a Lee mood in the best way, but I did my best! :>

[beef-brisket]

Adam laughed as he exited the party, waving to a few of the guests. In all of his years in Heaven, he never thought he'd enjoy parties. That's not saying Heaven didn't have any, but they were very different fmto the ones in Hell. Alcohol definitely wasn't allowed. But Adam won't lie. He enjoyed being drunk, it was unlike anything he's ever experienced.

He could do without the hangover, though.

Tonight, he was able to get out of his head and stop worrying about Steve and Lucifer. And his meeting with Asmodeus tomorrow where he finds out where on Earth he'll be going. That's if he even gets there. He wasn't too sure if Ozzie's plan for putting a different "mispelled" name would work. Lucifer's an idiot, but he's not THAT stupid.

Adam sighed and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked back to Verosika's house. He could feel that anxiety prickling at his skin. That worry flooding back. After everything he did to get rid of it, it comes back like Adam didn't just spend nearly six hours getting wasted.

Adam: Fuck me...

Speaking of, he didn't even get laid. He was still getting used to this "needing sex for energy" thing, but he just doesn't feel like it.

Adam's been away from Steve for nearly a week, and he could feel the need pulsing through him. He could ignore it for now, but hopefully, he would be on earth before it becomes unbearable.

Sighing, Adam looks around, watching other hellborn do their thing. Stumbling out of bars, singing loudly with their friends as they walk down the street, lining up outside food vendors.

He hoped that one day, his life would be normal like that. A day where he'd have no worries, he wouldn't be scared to go out, afraid of who he would run into.

Groaning as his stomach grumbled, he decided a good meal should help with the anxiety. At least, he hoped.

-

Adam: WHAT?!

Ozzie sighed as he placed the paper back on his desk: I'm sorry, Adam-.

Adam: Declined?! He declined it?! He- I thought you said he's never declined an application before!

Ozzie pinched the brow of his nose. He fucking talked to Lucifer about this, he was only going to drive Adam away. And even the Sin could tell he was struggling down here.

Ozzie: He doesn't. He hasn't... stupid bastard... he's an idiot, babe. Look. You don't want to be here, I understand-.

Adam covered his face with his hands: It's not that- I just... my manager... I was hoping to get away from him, too. And now... I'm fucking stuck here.

Ozzie: Your manager?

Adam nodded: He's been... close to finding me. I can't hide at Ver's place forever. She has her own shit to do. I'll have to go back to-.

Shaking, Adam couldn't finish his sentence before he started crying. He was terrified to go back to Steve to see him again.

Ozzie: Oh, darling.

Adam cried more when he felt himself be softly embraced and pulled into a warm hug. He just wanted this to be over. He was trapped in Heaven, and just when he was finding himself in Hell, Steve took advantage of his new freedom. And now, Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty just HAD to tell Lucifer about him. So now, he has two crazy assholes on his ass.

Ozzie: I'm so sorry, Adam. Really. I am.

Adam: I-It's o-ok-okay-.

Ozzie: No, it's not. You're the first man. The commander of the exorcists. Nothing should scare you. But you're petrified. You're in my ring, Adam. You're one of my people now, and you know what? I like you. Really. You're an interesting person, and the Lust Ring could really benefit from having you here.

Adam slowly looked up at Ozzie: R-Really?

Ozzie smiled: Really. I want to help you, Adam. There's five other rings in Hell. All of them filled with the horniest fuckers ever born. I'll help you set yourself up somewhere else. Or, if you like Lust, I'll employ you.

Adam: Employ me? What does that mean?

Ozzie: You can still do your shows, or you could sing at my bars. And get all of the sex your heart desires. And be paid, of course~.

Adam: A... bar singer...?

Ozzie: I know it may seem like a downgrade, but their all very fancy. Trust me. I only ask one thing in return.

Adam: What's that?

Ozzie smiled: Of you're comfortable, I'd love for you to model some sex toys for me. All for advertisement, of course. You're a very attractive man, Adam. And you need to be seen. But of course, all of this is only with your consent, even if you say no, I'd love for you to sing and perform at my establishments.

Adam thought about for a moment: ...Okay. I'll do it.

He smiled up at Ozzie, who smiled back: I'll write your contract up then. I'll have my receptionist bring you in when it's ready.

Leaving the room, Adam felt a wash was relief. He was finally doing something that he was actually excited about. He's never performed in front of a small crowd before, but he was willing to do anything to make a name for himself, his way.

That didn't mean he didn't want to kill Lucifer for declining his application, but he was ready for this next step. He didn't need Steve, and he sure as hell didn't need Lucifer.

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[throathole]

My boyfriend is a normal person in that he drank alcohol in college, unlike me who has still never really had alcohol at the ripe old age of 26, and he humbled me bc I was admiring some of the pretty bottles of (vodka?) at the grocery store and I picked up a bottle of UV Blue and he said “you wouldn’t even know what to do with that if you bought it” -_- true but let me admire the pretty colors

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Genya Shinazugawa!reader as a member of the Straw Hats with Sanemi being a member of the Whitebeards and not happy that his brother became a pirate since he is scared of losing him

-It was a massive party that had been planned out by Whitebeard, wanting to meet Ace’s little brother Luffy, hearing how the little rascal and his crew had been making big news all over the Grand Line.

-Luffy took little convincing once Ace said there was going to be a lot of food, and the two crews agreed to meet on a summer island to party together.

-What they weren’t expecting was that there was another set of siblings on the two crews, you, who was on Luffy’s crew, as he met you shortly after Zoro and Nami, and Sanemi, your older brother who had made a name for himself on Whitebeard’s crew.

-Unlike Ace and Luffy who had a good relationship, you and Sanemi had little to no relationship, after he left you, abandoning you after your whole family was killed by cruel marines, only to be killed by Sanemi, leaving both of you heavily scarred, both inside and out.

-He told you years ago that he was going to become a pirate, to become strong and prevent any more marines from doing anything like this, and when you expressed your interest in doing the same, he beat you up before leaving you, telling you that someone so weak would never be a pirate.

-He only said that and did that to you to make you afraid, to keep you safe, with the hopes you would get a normal job and live a normal life like how you deserved, but his words only drove you to work harder to become a pirate.

-Now you’re one of two marksmen on Luffy’s crew alongside Usopp, but while he used slingshots, you used actual guns, ranging in all styles and sizes.

-Despite your rather gruff personality whenever you met anyone new, your true personality was quick to show- a tsundere with a heart of gold- you were such a sweet and kind person- it was honestly adorable how gruff you tried to portray yourself as.

-You were also very respectful to everyone in the crew, as they were the ones who made you into the feared pirate you were today. Now if you could just catch up to your brother’s bounty, even surpassing it, you would be even more content, as that would prove to your brother that you were a great pirate!

-The initial meeting as Luffy leapt off the ship and ran to Ace, tackling him down made smiles go all around, both crews happy to see the reunion.

-As the rest of you got off and headed towards the large group, one person stepped forward and everyone seemed to freeze as Sanemi looked like a demon was surrounding him, looking furious.

-You glared back, a hand coming to your hip as you looked angry as well as he stomped over, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You’re not supposed to be a pirate!”

-You glared back, now being able to fight back as you were bigger now, “You don’t have the right to lecture me when you abandoned me!”

-Everyone looked between the two of you, realizing that you were siblings as you both looked similar as you both shouted back and forth at each other. Sanemi threw a punch at your disrespect, as you should listen to him since he’s older, but he only grew more enraged when you dodged his blow and threw one of your own, sending him staggering back after you nailed him across the face hard.

-The two of you were quickly in a brawl, leading many trying to pull the two of you apart, even Whitebeard and Luffy who were both yelling at you to knock it off.

-Sanemi punched you hard, sending you flying back, “You idiot! You weren’t supposed to be a pirate! You were supposed to live a normal life!!”

-You quickly rolled to your feet, wiping your bloody nose with the back of your hand, “How was I supposed to do that when our family was killed, and you walked out on me?! Who was I supposed to look up to in order live a normal life?!”

-Eyes went to Sanemi, hearing how he left you after your family had been killed and his eyes went white as he charged with a furious yell, and you did the same.

-At the very last second, someone appeared beside the two of you and punched you both hard, sending you flying. Nami breathed in deeply, her fists smoking as she stopped the fight easily.

-You both were quickly on your knees in front of her as she chewed you both out, a lump on each of your heads, but you were smart- knowing not to talk back to Nami, but Sanemi didn’t know this listen and by the time she stomped off, Sanemi was covered in lumps and he was face down in the dirt, unable to move.

-The two of you, as punishment, had to drink and eat together, to reconcile, but there was nothing like that, only eating and drinking while glaring at each other.

-It was Sanemi who instigated conversation with you, “You’ve gotten tall.” You glanced over, eating another piece of meat, “Yeah- Sanji keeps us all fed well.” It was awkward for anyone listening to the conversation, seeing how the two of you were trying.

-By the time the party ended with everyone passed out, leaving only you and Sanemi, or so you thought, he finally spoke, “You’ve gotten stronger- that punch was impressive. Guess I was wrong about you being weak.” You knew that for Sanemi, that was as close as he was going to get to apologizing to you.

-You gave him a grin, lifting your mug, “I was motivated to prove you wrong- now all I have to do is surpass you!” he grinned in return, welcoming the challenge, “I’d like to see you try!”

-While not completely forgiving him, you were at least willing to be a little nicer to him, something Luffy and Whitebeard, who were also awake, shared a grin over, happy to see you two getting along.

[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

[quietwingsinthesky]

“So, who were they?” you ask.

“Old friends,” he answers curtly, and you have learned the difference between scars he loves to boast about and which ones still ache even under your touch. You press a hot rag to the shoulder of his sword-arm.

“I didn’t think you knew how to make friends,” you say over the relieved sigh he lets out. His head swings low, hair caught along the damp edge of the rag sticking to his skin before you remove it to feel the muscle underneath. “Let alone six.” You can’t tell yet if the tension is leftover vigilance he can’t let go of after a fight or his body locking up in protest of its sudden, harsh use. It’s your job to keep either from hurting him more.

“You’re very cruel to an old man,” he says as you spread one hand flat across his upper spine and survey his shoulder with the other. He can feel every press of your fingers there, unlike his other shoulder, which is more burns and scar tissue than skin down to where it ends at his elbow. “Especially one who feeds you”—You snort.—“and lets you live in his home without charge and-” The light teasing cuts of abruptly as you probe around the underside of his arm and over his bruised ribs. He jerks away from your touch with no more than a hiss, but that’s louder than a scream from any other companion of yours.

“If you’ve injured one of your ribs and didn’t tell me again-” You fly through your memory of the fight, but it’s hard. (You have to first square the image of him grouching at you to bring his dinner to where he’s sat rather than pick it up himself and that of him cutting off a man’s hand so fast, he was already disarming the next opponent before it had hit the ground.) It shouldn’t be more than bruising; you’re sure he only took a glancing tackle on that side from one of the smaller men-

“No,” he promises. His voice doesn’t shake, but you have the feeling it would have if he hadn’t taken those few extra seconds to respond. “I can breathe without it hurting too badly. I’m alright.” Your hand hovers over the purpling skin. He leans back into the one you’ve left on his spine. “I wasn’t expecting the pain. You usually warn me.” You blink.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “Can I continue now?”

“Do you have to?” That’s a grumble, not a plea to stop, and you smile.

“Make me go sleep out in the stable about it.” You are gentle when you probe the rest of the bruise. It’s not that you don’t trust his judgment of his own body, but you work best with what you have known under your own hands.

And he wouldn’t have asked for you, specifically, if he didn’t want someone who would touch him.

“And then if I fall out of bed in the middle of the night, you’ll pretend you can’t hear me yelling over the horses.” You raise your hand again to his shoulder, pressing your palm into the stressed muscle. He grunts very softly. You would normally start this routine lower, massage his legs first and work your way up, but you judge this area to need your attention now. You press and push with your thumbs, familiar with each band of muscle and each old bone. You know where to rub harder, so deep that anyone else would be in pain. It used to leave your wrists aching when you first met him. You know even better where to tread lightly. He’s told you how it feels to crack a shoulderblade against hard stone, and it’s something you hope you never experience.

You listen to him breathe. It’s low and deep, steadying with each passing moment. His arm hangs limp at his side.

You think, briefly, of rubbing your thumb over the back of his neck, where a noose once left indents on his skin that he’s never escaped, and so you do. He sighs again, and you go back to his shoulder.

“You may not be safe here for much longer,” he says, very quietly. You raise your gaze from the dip between shoulderblade and spine and move closer, drawing your legs up onto the bed to sit behind him. You drop your chin onto his shoulder. He doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge that or the way you idly run a hand up the side of his chest. Another scar—this one is triumphant, and he relaxes when you touch it, like the barest stroke of your fingers releases those good memories. You draw them up towards you, over his missing nipple and to the outline of his clavicle. “I have more old friends than you can imagine, and if they know where I am…”

You let the warning linger. You know he believes you should listen and leave. You know he wishes that you won’t.

“Well, they’ll have to eat dinner somewhere else,” you say. “I’m not cooking for more than the two of us.”

He lets out a breath, and then he tilts his head to you.

The pressure of his skull against yours lets your eyes drift shut, savoring the contact.

You are nearly nestled into the crook of his neck. You think that if you wriggled a little, you’d hear his heartbeat against your ear.

“Speaking of dinner,” he says. Your eyes reluctantly peel open. “You should get started if we’re going to eat before the sun sets.” You huff and lean back, hands braced against his shoulder for a cursory check. He’s far less tense. Tomorrow will be another story, but you’ll draw him a hot bath and see what relief that brings to his strained muscles.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your precious reading candles on lighting our dinner table.” You’re going to put too much honey in his evening tea for that, and he’s going to complain that you’ve made it too sweet and give it to you so it isn’t wasted. You smirk.

“My eyes are going,” he complains, shooing you over his shoulder. “Let me enjoy them while they’re still here.”

i love when characters age out of their original role so much. you used to be the strongest warrior in the land, and yes, you probably still could beat the shit out of anyone who fucks with you because it’s not like all that skill went anywhere. but you ARE going to need a heatpack for every muscle in your body afterwards and complain about how much easier it used to be the whole time.

[iamsigningmylifeaway]

you guys don’t even care about not only art’s hair getting shorter (they buzzed it when he got drafted into the war), but tashi’s hair getting shorter. you guys don’t even care that when the biblical hymn hot in herre by nelloth the great comes on, we, along with the men, watch her raise her arms through a outpouring of soft and full hair waving through the night air that is later cascading over her shoulders like the waves crashing against the rock she looks back over like a force of nature. full of life, full of potential that is channeled into a perfectly neat, perfectly slicked braid when on the tennis court. that when a bad angle on the court takes that all away from her, she comes back sheared, romantic as it is dependable trimming of hair never quite long to be put up again except in a half clip that never quite gets it all the way up when she steps back into the court again as the coach to her fiancé. that at some undefined haircut over a passing of years or perhaps a million little haircuts, her hair is honed into a well-defined, practical bob. clipped and out of the way like her husband’s, the possibility of putting it up more gone than ever, as now it is permanently out of the way of a forever working woman who has built and runs both an business empire and a family. mature and clean cut in a way that is owned, a way that the imitant cropping of blond curls could never settle into. it’s powerful. it’s clean. potential energies pruned into one decided cunty bob and not left to overgrow in a 31 year old garden with the childlike hopes that the best season is yet to come. it’s an adult and there’s no point having it long if it’s always going to have to be dealt with so that it’s not hot on her neck or in her face while she is tossing balls to her husband and tucking her child into bed. not short enough that is won’t be in her face when the wind of a hurricane in a red lit parking lot after midnight lets it be whipped out of place. but perhaps it will never be short enough for that. she never wanted it to be and is not willing to buzz the sides of herself for the sake or performing the practicality she preaches, because she is not jesus and her sermons of practicality come from her own perspective. she doesn’t need to perform being practical. she is practical. and that’s the reason she can slide her sunglasses under the styled, pruned curls laid over her ears and look at the abandoned garden on her left and the mowed lawn on her right and absolutely serve cunt without the heat of hair over her shoulders and feel for a second what it felt like when the ocean of hot sunlit hair over her shoulders funneled off her neck into one power-line rapid laid atop her head like a crown.

[tartppola]

very specific au thought, silver if he was the shield instead ( read the tags to see explanations )

[ruporas]

being a little petty (ID in alt)

[carbonateds-oda]

“do I look like the type of person who’s visiting a grave”

the reason why it surprised dazai that atsushi stated this despite it being so obvious is because he probably expected atsushi to assume something bad of him or suspect him of having more malicious intentions because that’s what he’s used to, he’s used to ppl assuming the worst of him even when he’s just existing so whenever he’s met with someone like atsushi, who even while knowing he isn’t exactly a good person still chooses to see genuineness behind his actions it leaves him shocked. like yeah i am just visiting a grave, not just any grave either this is the grave of the only other person who I thought would ever see me in such a light but that’s been proven wrong just by atsushi acknowledging the obvious. It’s like proof that he is capable of just being a person and having human emotions, he’s allowed to sit in a grave and visit his friend without ppl misinterpreting this innocent action as something insincere

[joblessquinoa]

Me watching ULS: wow Hotae is so intense, I wonder what his deal is

Me revisiting ULS after watching TTOF: Hotae has experienced levels of yearning and desperation previously unknown to man. All things considered, he's handling it pretty well

[alxastrx]

When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.