#and all this suicide squad content is KILLING ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chosok-amo · 9 months

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Enemies to lovers toji x fem reader!!!!! Theyre both in college and reader is usually really smart and focused n stuff but toji likes to tease her and yeah!!!!

THUNDERSTORM : TOJI FUSHIGURO

oh just how much you hate toji fushiguro, and the feelings are mutual. you are a calm, intelligent and focused person, while he's in the other hands annoying, stupid, arrogant and many other things you hate— you hate how he always makes your heart beat like a thunderstorm.

content warning: college! toji, non-sorcerer jjk, fluff! toji

i wasn't doing my best with this one but i hope you like it

“stop that.”

“stop what?” your eyes narrowed.

“doing that thing with your face when you're happy, it's making me nauseous.” he's looking at you as he's making a disgusted face. his index finger makes a circle while pointing at your face. your smile dropped and an annoyance sounds left your lips. you slam the tray and sit yourself beside the white-haired boy, gojo satoru. and there's that boy, in front of you eating his lunch with a disgusted face as he eyed you, toji fushiguro.

“get your nasty finger off my face before I break it,” your hands move faster trying to catch his finger only for him to pull away faster. “always so slow,” he mocked you. “oh fuck you, toji,” you spit to him, getting more annoyed each second you look at him. while the other boy just laughed. seeing how your face turned red from anger amused him. toji fushiguro always showed a liking every time spat at him, getting nastier and sassier each second. hands gripping on something tightly or just clenched your fist he's afraid you're gonna make your nail bleeding from your nail.

he loves how your eyes always look at him like you're on fire, how your pretty mouth insults him in the most hilarious way he could ever imagine. he loves to have the power of having a calm, pretty, intelligent person like you going crazy because of a person like him. a girl with patience like a saint always growling in anger every time he open his mouth. it's like watching a soap opera, for free. you, on the other hand, despise him with all of your heart. you hate the way his green eyes glisten when the sun hits, you hate the way his personality is embedded in each word when you read a poem about love, you hate the way his voice shapes into a melody and echoes his entire being, scaring you.

“what are you doing here, anyway?” satoru asked as he shoved a macaron into his mouth. you look at the man in front of you, feeling confused also. toji never sits with you and your friends, always with his suicide squad— sukuna and weird ass choso, you swear that guy always looks like his soul just gets sucked out of his body. “yeah, toji? what the fuck are you doing here?” you parrot, this time sassier and you glare at him.

“what? I can't have lunch with friends now?”

you and satoru look at each other before you roll your eyes, “can you please go be annoying somewhere that's away from me?” you asked, nearly begging. you're too hungry to deal with toji's nonsense and he's too insufferable to be around. “but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun,” he pouts, pretending to be sulking as he put his palm under his cheeks and battling his eyelashes. but you don't budge, just keep glaring your eyes to him hoping suddenly your eyes let out a laser that could kill him on the place.

toji sighs in defeat before he gets up throwing you a glance of judgement, “boo, you whore.” and with that he swings his ass as he walks away with a tray in one hand and the other on his jeans pocket— leaving you with mouth hanging open.

“fucking asshole.”

you feel something was throwing at you— hitting your back of the head. you're in class right now, trying to focus on whatever your professor was talking about. you try to ignore whatever that was throwing at you but each time it's getting bigger and you become more annoyed. so with the last patience you had left, you snap your neck to look at whoever it is— of course it's other than toji fushiguro. “what?” you yelled whispered. “let me borrow your pen,” he said, looking like an idiot with his slay grin, makes you more annoyed.

“no, shut up!”

you back to your position again and this time you're insisting on not gonna pay toji any attention. for a moment things got quiet and you don't hear anything from toji. but of course, that man wasn't letting you sit there in class and try to study quietly. you hear something from your behind that makes you turn around only to find already sitting there, smiling at you. “what the fuck are you doing?” your voice rough while you shoot a glance at your professor.

“i miss you,” he pout.

you look at him in disgust, “shut the fuck up toji, i'm trying to learn something here,” you grumble. that's only amused him more as he put both hands under his chin and battling his eyelashes to you. “make me, y/n,” he whispered, trying to be seductive as he snout his lips to you and making a kiss noise. you winces in disgust before shoving his face away with your hand.

“what the fuck is wrong with you..”

he just laughed.

you were walking on the hallway of your campus alone. book on your left hands and the other holding a cup of your coffee. you spend a night working on your project until morning and you haven't got a single sleep, so you really need caffeine to keep you awake. when you turn around the corner something big suddenly come out of nowhere, startled you by surprise.

“AH!”

you were so shocked that you fell on the floor along with your books and coffee getting you wet in the process. you look up only to find toji fushiguro hovering you. hands in pocket as he looks down at you. “you scared me,” you shriek. his shoulder move up and down as he shrugged, looking unbothered. “well, i'm naturally terrifying,” he said obvious, like it's was something natural and common. you scoff while rolling your eyes.

“nobody finds you terrifying, fushiguro.”

he frowned after hearing what you were saying, “that's not true, everybody finds me terrifying,” he said in defense. you snicker and cover your mouth, “you're delusional because I'm not finding you terrifying,” you mocked him. and toji doesn't seem like he's agree with whatever you just yapping about. his green eyes bore at you and he was silent for a moment like there's a war inside his head.

“what?” you feel annoyed as he keeps on looking at you with an expression you can't figure out. something you never seen on his face before, something unfamiliar. but he keeps his mouth shut, refuses to speak and entertained you with his lame answer but no, he just stood there looking like he just found something he's longing for who knows how long. his eyes, you can't stand it— worse, you were afraid of it. it feels like his eyes can touch you more than his hands ever could, that's the only thing about him that terrifying to you.

a hard covered book kisses his face harshly to snap him out of whatever he was in. he grimaces in pain and rubs the red on his forehead— where the book landed. “the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells in pain. “stop being a baby,” you dryly said to him. before he gets to let out a bunch of insults, your high pitched scream stops him. your white shirt covered with coffee making your boobs and bra look visible.

“oops,” toji laugh.

you who's still on the floor sending a tall man in front of you a glare. toji swear he can see the steam coming out of your ears. “look at what you've done!” you growl in anger. toji rolled his eyes bored before scoffing, “stop being a baby,” he mocked you— purposely throwing you the same sentence you just said to him. you clicked your tongue as you tried your best to clean yourself with hope in your heart that it doesn't leave a stain. toji just standing there watching you.

he let out a sigh before throwing you his leather jacket making you stare at him in confusion. “cover yourself, idiot.” and just like that he walks away, leaving you all confused and dumbfounded.

your day is always filled with toji fushiguro. every corner you go, fate seems to find it amusing when he's making your blood boil and your face turns red like fresh tomatoes, that's why it always sends him around, find you every time. you started to get used to his presence. you started to find the scar on lips look more stunning than it used to— especially when he's smile. you no longer feel scared when his green eyes flashed to you. his smile become sweet, different from the rest, from everyone else. you started to notice everytime he touches you it suddenly felt as if the stars dancing across your skins.

“your hands,” he said, softly this time.

you don't say anything, too amused with how beautiful he becomes after all this time, after you start to notice. like it has its own thoughts, your hands just move to the man in front of you, letting him hold it like it's always belonged to him, and it fits perfectly also. and then there's it, the stars thing again. something you're unfamiliar with but knowing you're gonna become an addiction of it, of his touch.

he slipped something on your ring finger. you look down to your hand, hand that he was holding. a ring with white bunny, matching with him as he shows you his hand. your heart smiles, followed by your lips but then it's beating faster, knocking your chest as if it's begging the man to hear. you scared so you look at him and your heart beating faster than before when you realize he's already looking, like a thunderstorm. “it's promise ring,” his voice gentle.

toji fushiguro, a man who couldn't go on with his day without hearing your voice, he couldn't go on with his day without feeling your eyes on him, without your presence around him— it feels like an addiction he doesn't realize, getting too attached to each second. when you're not around he's always looking for you, purposely making you mad just because he knows you're the most expressive when you with him, knowing only him that can makes you feel something you try to denied. he too, try to denied.

the feeling he has for you wasn't something he is familiar with and he's unhappy with that. he wants to quit because every time you walk into that hallway beautifully his head feels fuzzy and the world faded into the background like on the movies show, it's lonely and cold. and standing there with you, in the middle of your campus festival, where people and times move faster— but not faster as his beating heart.

“i'll pick your thunder,” he said, nearly whispering.

you didn't like this boy, you didn't find him attractive in a romantic way, his face wasn't something you'd be thinking about next week. he spoke and he sounded just like the others, a voice you wouldn't recognize again, but now he seemed gentle, so do for toji, he didn't like you last year, but now he started to notice the way you filling the room, expanding like a butterfly breaking free from the cocoon, it was hard not to notice you glisten when all eyes darted like spotlights on you.

when you speak everyone has no choice but to listen and indulge in your smile. or when the room is empty and moonlights spills in through a creak in the door. he starts to love the way your eyes gleam. you changes, you're no longer just a gentle looking girl. he didn't care for the soft waves in your hair but now he started to notice each wave, and the clothes that you wears, and the way that you stands, and smiles, and walks.

you find yourself not just listening but losing touch of things when he talks. he was just another head in the crowd, he was just annoying classmates that always fuming you, you wouldn't recognize his voice when he speaks, but now it is echoing in your mind out loud. he hasn't changed a bit but how something both of you overlooked become something both of you desire?

he didn't like this girl

and you don't like this boy

but you and him now sure do

how'd you do it?' you thought.

how'd you do it?' he thought.

how'd you make me fall in love with you?

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hottpinkpenguin · 3 months

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Easy Company HCs: Coming Home To You After the War

A/n: ahhhh my first time writing for a new fandom always makes me nervous. I'm rewatching BoB for probably the 5th or 6th time and just felt compelled to start writing for some of these incredible characters. please note all writings are based solely on the BoB TV characters and not the actual veterans. Let me know if you want any other BoB HC's or oneshots!

*Please refer to each character for warnings*

Dick Winters Warnings: angsty Major Winters, vague references to PTSD/war trauma

Dick is standing outside on the deck of the ship before the sun is up on the day they’re due into port. He can’t stop looking towards the horizon, waiting for the shoreline to swim into view.

He’s melancholy, thoughtful. Reflects on all he’s seen in the war. He feels different than how he was when he left almost 3 years ago. He thinks about all the men he left behind in Normandy, in Foy, in Bastogne, in Holland, in Hagenau, in Germany. And he looks around at the men whose bodies are coming home, but who lost pieces of themselves in foxholes, in the bombed out streets of Europe, on the beaches.

He also finds himself wondering what it’s been like for you. He hasn’t thought about that much, hasn’t let himself think on it too hard. He feels ashamed that he never asked much in his letters about how you were. He knows it was to protect himself. If he’d asked, and if you’d been honest and told him about the rationing, the fear, how many of your friends were losing their brothers, husbands, and lovers overseas, the suicides of the men who couldn’t go… well, Dick knew he’d have been distracted. And distracted leaders got men killed. So Dick had sealed off his thoughts on that account. He knew it was the right choice. But now, he doubted.

So as the ship pulls into port, he’s sad in a broken way. Like the war has finally caught up with him. And he’s terrified, suddenly. How is he going to see you like this? What are you going to see in him when you finally do? More importantly, what are you not going to see?

He lets all of his men debark before him. Partially because that’s what a good officer does, but partially to try and collect himself.

You know what to expect. You know Dick Winters isn’t going to really stop fighting the war until he sees every last man in Easy Company off that ship and safely home. So you wait. You’ve waited this long, after all. You can wait another thirty minutes.

When you finally see him in the thinning crowd, you call out his name and break into a beaming smile. He’s here, he’s home. He’s safe.

As soon as he sees you, the ice in his veins thaws. The sun is warm on his skin, he’s surrounded by clean sea air far from the burnt out husk of Europe, and you’re there. You’re smiling at him. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen something so singularly beautiful.

He strives over to you, taking his cap off as he approaches. His stomach is flipping like a schoolboy and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he had an entire firing squad of Krauts in front of him.

You run the last few dozen paces into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around with a long, languid sigh of contentment. Your laughter is like a peeling bell in his ear.

Richard, how dare you make me wait? you tease him.

He can’t find any words except to smile at you, looking into your eyes, memorizing your smile, reacquainting himself with the dusting of freckles across your nose, the scent of your shampoo, basking in the feeling of you in his arms. He smiles, then laughs. Your hands frame his face and suddenly he’s kissing you.

Dick Winters’ mind goes blissfully blank. The harsh edges of all his worries, his responsibilities, the burden of leading a company of men and ordering some of them to their deaths. It’s all soft now. There’s just you. You and that piece of land he’s been dreaming about.

Lewis Nixon Warnings: alcohol abuse, war-time violence, detailed reference to parental suicide

Lewis Nixon came back from the front with an exorbitant amount of contraband, shadows in the back of his eyes, and a terrible drinking habit. You had no idea what to do with any of it.

Two months after his return and you found yourself staring out across a sea of boxes piled haphazardly in the foyer of the summer home Lew had bought you for your six-month wedding anniversary. Your home had never been more crowded, and yet you’d never felt so lonely.

You wiped the damp tea towel you’d soaked in the kitchen sink against the back of your neck in a vain attempt to keep the heat at bay.

Lew! you called up to him, although you knew he wouldn’t answer. A brief glance at the clock - 2:15 pm - told you as much. Since coming back, Lew hadn’t woken up before 3:00 pm and you’d yet to share a goodnight kiss with him because he was liable to stay out until sunrise. Doing what, you’d rather not know.

With a weighty sigh, you decided you might as well pick a box and get started. Otherwise, this ridiculous maze of illegally shipped stolen goods would just go to rot in your foyer. And with your in-laws due in next month to visit your shell of a husband, you’d better try to clean up the mess.

You chose the box closest to you. It came up to your waist. As you ripped into it, you realized it was incredibly heavy, and you heard the unmistakable tinkling of glass on glass. You sliced the tape open with the boxcutter, marveling at how sharply the instrument cut into the flesh of the tape and cardboard. One of the first few nights after arriving back home, Lew had managed to stay at home and get drunk rather than do so out on the town. Somewhere between bottle three and four of the Chateau Rhone that you’d served at the reception, Lew had started to talk. Once he’d started, he hadn’t seemed willing to stop, as if he had one chance to pour out all the misery and regret and terror he’d accumulated in Europe. You remembered that at one point - one of his more lucid memories, when the slur in his words was light enough for you to understand him - he’d told you that he had seen a whole platoon of men shredded to ribbons by a Kraut tank. He’d recounted in excruciating detail how one of their fingers had landed on him, the blood and sinew drying on his uniform like an adhesive, and he hadn’t noticed it until the next day. You’d never seen anything quite so distasteful or violent in your life, but you imagined that it might be something like watching someone get sliced apart the way your boxcutter glided through tape.

With a shiver, you sheathed the blade and set the boxcutter aside to rip into the contents of the box. Tipping the heavy box sideways a bit, you spooned out the top layer of packing peanuts to reveal a familiar sight. Four corked bottles of wine sat at the top of the box. You stopped, staring down at the wine in the box in disbelief. This was the precious contraband that Lewis had spent thousands on to smuggle out of Europe? Fucking wine?

Your temper flamed to life with a vengeance. You pushed the heavy box over, letting loose a scream of frustration as you did. One of the bottles shattered as the box tipped over, a puddle of red wine staining the white marble floor. Once again, your mind flashed back to the war. Not to Lew’s memories, but your own. To the black-and-white films you’d seen in the theaters, to the newspaper clippings, to the reports that had come out of Germany about the death camps and the killing fields and the brutality of the war, to the letters your brother had written to you before his death at St. Vith. You thought of all the men you’d known who hadn’t come home - your brother Johnny, your childhood neighbor Tim Viens, your cousins Luis and Giovanni, the florist’s son from your hometown, your girl friend Jill’s fiance…

Your head was spinning and your blood was boiling as you summited the stairs to the darkened upstairs two at a time. When you flung open the door to Lew’s study where he’d taken to sleeping, you were seeing black at the edges of your vision.

Lewis fucking Nixon, you better wake the fuck up or so help me God I will strangle you in your sleep!

The words flew off your tongue faster than you knew what to do with. You’d never had a foul mouth, and you’d certainly never threatened your husband before. Despite his obvious hangover, he snapped to wakefulness faster than you’d expected him to. He regarded you with a wary, tired expression, and you wondered for a half second if he was going to ask you to make good on your threat.

Saints above woman, what is it? he demanded, reaching around the graveyard of beer and wine bottles strewn about the floor next to him. You noticed a particularly foul smell in the room at the same time you noticed the stain of vomit caked on one of the pillows he’d propped under his head.

The sight of your husband fumbling around for another drink at 2:30 in the afternoon with vomit caked on his cheek did something to you. You weren’t sure if the sight broke you or if it snapped you into form. Whatever it did, it took the wind out of the hateful words that had been boiling in your gut. You snapped your mouth shut as you became acutely aware that you had nothing left to say to him. You’d said it all already. You’d cried, threatened, screamed, pleaded, reasoned, demanded, and done just about everything you could think of in your power to bring Lewis Nixon back to something resembling sense. You weren’t without feeling - you knew that he wasn’t the only man who hadn’t fully come back from the front. Memories of your father’s glassy, empty-looking eyes flicked in your mind like a silent movie. Your father never really left the trenches, your mother used to say by way of explanation and apology. Some men just can’t come home after a war like that.

The last memory you have of your father was the sight of him leaned back in his chair, his head bent away from his neck at an unnatural angle, with a ghoulish bloodstain on his chest from the hole his pistol had left where he’d fired it under his chin and up into his skull. You’d found him like that when you were just six years old. At almost twenty six now, you were resolved never to see someone you love waste away like that again. Yet here you were, watching someone who’d once been your brash, fun-loving, hot-headed husband fade away like a ghost.

As Lew braced for what he felt sure was going to be a proper dressing down, you felt yourself deflate like a punctured balloon. Something final and irrevocable had happened in those few moments since you’d come running up the stairs, and you knew deep in your bones that there was no going back.

I’m leaving.

It was all you could say. Lewis looked over at you through slitted eyes, stifling down an acidic belch as he tried to figure out your angle. Usually your arguments started with much more heat than this, but he wasn’t sober enough to hear the goodbye in your tone.

After a few agonizing moments, he grunted at you by way of dismissal. Get me some Vat 69, while you’re out. Vat 69 was the only thing that Lewis Nixon had asked from you since he’d gotten back to the States.

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you just turned on your heel, letting the boxcutter that you hadn’t even realized you’d been gripping like a vice slide out of your hand and land with a thump on the carpet.

You descended the stairs with a strange buzzing in your head. You wondered if you should pack something, although you realized that all you really wanted to was to get as far away from the time bomb that was Lewis Nixon as fast as you possibly could. You called your mother from the kitchen phone. She didn’t need to hear you say the words to know what had happened. Come on home honey, she said gently. I’ll make your favorite key lime pie. The kind and simple gesture brought tears to your eyes.

After a few minutes to gather the essentials - your wallet, your pearls, your father’s WWI medals - you thought of one more phone call to make. A parting kindness, you thought, as you sifted through the Rolodex you kept next to the phone until you found the card you wanted.

The phone rang twice before a voice you knew well picked up.

Hello? Dick, it’s me, it’s y/n Nixon. Listen, you better come get Lew. He’s… he’s not well. And I’m leaving.

You didn’t wait for a reply before you clicked the receiver. If there was any saving of Lewis Nixon now, it wouldn’t be by you.

With one final glance at the house and the sad trove of memories it contained, you closed the door on your past and left, hoping that both you and Lew would find some corner of peace to spend the rest of your days.

Ronald Speirs Warnings: smut, sweet baby boy Speirs

Ron doesn’t even tell you that he’s coming home. You know it’ll be soon, and you’re waiting for a letter. None come. Years of waiting, years of him faithfully writing, years of dreaming and praying for this day. Now? Radio silence.

So when this man shows up at your door, his duty bag in one hand and his hat in the other, the first thing you can do is scream at him.

Ronald fucking Speirs! You didn’t fucking write me, I thought you were dead or lost or just done with me! Why didn’t you tell me! You fucking bastard, you utter fucking bastard!

You’re hitting him and screaming and tears are everywhere. Ron just smiles. You’re precisely how he remembers you. Better even.

He wraps you up in a hug, so tight that you can’t move. You’re still struggling, wiggling and sobbing into his shirt, trying to beat your fists against him.

When you feel him kiss the top of your head, it all just melts. Your knees buckle and instead of beating on him you’re clinging to him. Realization hits you in waves. Ron is home. Those are Ron’s arms around you. Ron’s voice murmuring into your ear. Ron’s breath on your forehead.

When you finally look up to him - eyes bloodshot, nose running, mascara streaking, cheeks tear stained and red - Ron smiles down at you. My beautiful girl, he says softly before catching your lips in a kiss. Everything breaks loose in that kiss. You practically want to crawl into his mouth. It’s all need: lips devouring each other, hands grabbing and nails dragging, tongues invading each other. Ron moans and you’re done, you’re a mess.

He knows. He pushes you across the doorway, his hat and duty bag long forgotten on the porch, lifts you up and carries you to the nearest couch, undressing on the way. He rips your blouse, knocks over one of your side tables when he kicks off his shoe, and almost drops you to let you rip off his belt.

Ron’s home to you when he slams inside of you. Your thoughts disintegrate as the two of you collide together, alternating between frenzied ferocious fucking and softer sweeter sensuality as lust, love, longing and whatever lives between those things rips open the walls you’d both built up around your hearts.

But Ron isn’t home until after, long after, hours even. The house is trashed, clothes and pillows and furniture disheveled and everywhere. You’re both in bed, exhausted from countless rounds of tangling, with dawn threatening. You’re asleep, and Ron’s watching you dream. There’s a small crease between your eyebrows, and you’re muttering. You look troubled; and he wonders if he should wake you. He can’t stand the sight of you in anything resembling pain. But then, suddenly, you roll towards him, your head settling on his chest and one of your legs slung over his.

Your face relaxes. You nuzzle into him. You sigh, a gentle smile on your lips. The crease is gone, your face smooth and peaceful.

He marvels. His head tips back against the headboard, looking down at you in awe as a distinct wave of content washes over and through him.

Ronald Speirs is finally home.

Carwood Lipton Warnings: just Lip and his perpetual angel-status <3

Lip is standing with the throng of men on the deck, watching as they pull into port. The crowd below is cheering and waving American flags, popping off champagne, and the women are waving handkerchiefs. There’s a band somewhere playing patriotic songs and jaunty marches. Home has never looked so good.

‘Ey, Lip, I think I see your girl

It’s Malarkey who spies her - why and how he picked her out so easily, Lip didn't rightfully know nor want to know. But Malarkey was right, there she was.

White ribbons in her hair, white dress on, white handkerchief waving. She’s craning over the other sweethearts and mothers and fathers, eyes combing the deck of the ship. Her expression - impatient longing - snaps Lip in two. How the hell did he ever leave that girl halfway across the world?

Carwood?! Carwood Lipton?!

He can’t hear her, but he sees her lips moving and he knows that she’s calling out his name. He doubts that any of the deck goers are having luck finding their men that way. The ship is alive with soldiers and airmen buzzing with excitement, calling out to the shore and cheering. The dock is no less vibrant, so the entire place is drowning in the sounds of joy.

Lip stares at her, unwilling to lose sight of her ever again. He vaguely registers the ship jolting to a halt at its berth, the enormous horn announcing the official arrival and, for all the men on board, the uproarious end to the war from Hell. Lip exchanges hugs, slaps on the back, firm handshakes with the men of Easy. It’s strange to have so many painful goodbyes at the same time as a long-awaited hello, but Lip knows he’ll see these men again. He can’t imagine life without them, just like he can’t imagine living without her.

The crowd of soldiers and airmen begins to move, a mass of jumbled emotions with a healthy sprinkling of joy. He watches as the first few men off the ship are swept up into the awaiting crowd as they step off the planks. He can still see her, a beacon of white. An angel, he realizes.

He shuffles forward with the rest of the disembarking ranks. The process is painfully slow, and he’s not close enough to call out to her yet. He tries to catch her eye with a few waves, but he can only imagine how many waving hands and beaming faces she can see at once. She’s almost passed him on the dock, and Lip feels himself losing patience with the slowness of the men around him. He contemplates yelling at the men to keep it moving or don’t stand at the end of the ramp, but he doesn’t. He can’t bear to ruin a moment of this, for anyone.

Suddenly, she sees him. Her hands fly to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. That handkerchief blots at her face. She’s gone quiet; just staring at him, waiting. He waves at her, swallowing down the tears threatening in his eyes. She waves back, unsure whether to laugh or cry, so she ends up doing both. Once again, Lip wonders how he’d ever left her. He realizes he’ll never be able to again. He’s stuck to her like glue now, it can’t be helped. And he’s got his eye on a ring. He’ll buy it tomorrow, he decides. Maybe even today, if he can find a jeweler. No more wasted time.

The wait is agonizing. Every few minutes, she waves at him again, as if afraid that he’ll disappear like a ghost. He can’t stop smiling at her. He doesn’t notice, but the Easy men all softly agree that they’ve never seen this Lip before. A smile reserved all for her.

He steps off the ramp and she’s there, pushed through the crowd. He envelopes her in his arms as she peppers his face and neck with kisses. Soggy ones, from the tears. His or hers, anybody’s guess. She keeps repeating his name like a prayer and a plea. He holds her as she comes undone in his arms, body-wracking sobs and her head buried in his neck. He tells her it’s alright, I’m home and it makes her squeal with delight. Then they’re both laughing. He carries her a bit, not trusting her legs quite yet, and honestly unsure if he trusts himself to walk without her weight in his arms holding him to Earth. She babbles, he listens, she asks something, he talks. It’s easy - so easy - and Carwood Lipton feels himself stepping back into himself after so many years of being Lip and First Sergeant.

Her hand in his, they walk the streets of this strange town that neither of them are from, but yet somehow always find themselves feeling right at home. He has to squeeze her hand every once in a while to remind himself that she’s real, and he’s really here, and the war is behind him. All day and late into the evening, Lipton and his girl stroll together, two friends, two lovers, one very happy ending.

Buck Compton Warnings: cursing, references to alcohol abuse

No one’s there at the train depot when Buck gets home. His mother is tied up taking care of his baby sister and her new baby, sick with colic, and his dad is too frail to make the forty-minute trip by car to the station. And you’re done with him, as of Christmas time.

Some homecoming.

He wanders through the town’s sleepy Main Street, killing time before his brother-in-law’s shift ends at the munitions factory and he can pick Buck up. It’s a hot day, sweat runs down his back. It reminds him of Toccoa. He chuckles darkly, grateful that he’s not running up Currahee with Sobel’s sour puss hot on his heels. He’s grateful for a moment, but then he wonders if maybe those were the best days of his life, and he just didn’t know it. So far, the end of the war hasn’t brought much happiness his way. Maybe the best is behind him already.

He stops for a root beer float at the local soda counter. He brought you here for the first date. He still remembered that your lips tasted like strawberry milkshake later when he’d parked his truck in front of an empty cornfield and kissed you until he was dizzy. He knows he’ll never be able to order a strawberry milkshake again.

A couple of the old men sitting in the window side booths nod at him, one even pays for his tab. Buck thanks them but makes no move to engage in conversation. He’s not gloomy, exactly. Just lonely. He thinks about Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere, about the marrow-deep cold of Bastogne, and about just how far away he feels from the taste of strawberry on your tongue. Despite the scorching summer heat, he suppresses a shiver.

Buck’s sitting on a bench in front of the depot when his brother-in-law pulls up.

Hey Buck! Welcome home, buddy.

Thanks, Dickie.

His sister’s husband has a noticeable limp, one of his legs visibly wasted and bent at an unnatural angle from the knee down. Bike accident when he was six, kept him out of the war. From his sisters letters, Buck knows that Dickie’s been hitting the bottle hard after he got 4F’ed and told under no uncertain terms that he won’t fight for Uncle Sam. Buck can see the strain in Dickie’s smile, the dark bags under his eyes and the faint stain of gray at his temples. Buck feels about three decades older than when he left home, but Dickie looks it.

The ride home is quiet. Buck asks after his sister, Dickie asks after the war. Neither of them really listen to the answers.

When Dickie cuts the engine off in front of Buck’s parents’ place, the porch light is on and there’s a lamp in the front room window, shining merrily. Buck sighs deeply. He’d expected to come home to you, a little apartment somewhere. He’d planned on picking up his life from there, but instead he’s here, looking at a place he calls home without feeling at home. He thinks he might prefer a cot in Toccoa, or a hot cot on a transport ship, or maybe even a foxhole.

Aight Buck, you take it easy. I’ll see you ‘round. Make sure you stop in and see Kitty soon, she’s dying to see ya.

Sure, Dickie. Thanks for the lift.

The sun is setting fast behind the mountains. Cicadas are beginning to strum and the fireflies dance in the fields gone farrow behind the house. Buck climbs up the front steps, his duty bag slung over one shoulder.

Buck?

He freezes where he is, hand outstretched towards the doorknob. It can’t be… can it?

He hears the creak of the swing from the darkened corner of the porch as you stand up.

Welcome home, Buck.

It is you. Buck is still frozen, his upper lip beginning to tremble. He wished it were darker, wished the damn light was off so you wouldn’t have to see him like this. He feels the boards vibrate as you step towards him, hesitating at his side.

I’m sorry, Buck. I… I made a mistake…

A tear slips out. He swipes at it angrily. What the hell is he crying for? he wonders.

It’s just that Louise told me she read in a magazine that it’s harder for the men sometimes if they’re worried about someone back home and in your letters you were just always asking about me and how I was and what I was doing and I just knew that you were going through it, Buck, you know, I read the news and I knew you were right on the front lines and I started thinking about you being out there and distracted and what would happen if you lost your focus at the wrong time and you got shot or you got hit by a grenade or a sniper and I thought about losing you, Buck, and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t lose you, and I started to think maybe I needed to make it easier on you and I wrote you that awful letter and it was terrible Buck it was so bad and I hated writing it and I hated sending it but I convinced myself I had to and-

Buck silenced you by pressing his lips to yours mid-sentence. Whatever other explanations and apologies you had died in your mouth with a soft whimper, and suddenly your hands were traveling up his arms and tickling the base of his neck and you were sighing like you hadn’t really exhaled in months. Buck swallowed it up, kissing you deeply and gently. He didn’t know how to say that he didn’t care about all that, that all he wanted was you with him. The rest would work itself out. Buck knew from the war that if you surrounded yourself with good people, then you could get through anything.

He laughed when he tasted the strawberry milkshake on your lips. Smiling against your mouth, he broke the kiss and held you in his arms, his hands at the small of your back.

Why are you laughing you ask incredulously. Did you hear what I said? aren’t you mad? You hadn’t expected this reaction. In fact, you’d prepared yourself for Buck to be so furious that he wouldn’t even speak with you. It was less than half of what you felt you deserved.

Buck just shook his head, smiling to himself at a private joke. You wondered if he was laughing at how easily you fell for that kiss before he told you to take a hike and disappeared from your life forever.

Mad? He sounds incredulous, like that’s the most ridiculous question anyone’s ever asked him.

Yeah, Buck. I mean… I know I broke your heart.

He doesn’t deny it, just nods simply and looks deep into your eyes.

Don’t leave me again, darlin’, and I’ll consider it even.

You can’t reply because his lips are on yours again. All you can do is smile as you kiss your apology into Buck’s mouth until the sunset has faded and his dad calls out to the two of you to come inside already!

Bull Randleman Warnings: angst (you have been warned!!)

Something strange happened to Bull in the convent at Foy. He hadn’t expected it. But suddenly, there you were. Sitting in the back of his mind like an itch he just couldn’t scratch. His third grade crush from Ms. Wheeler’s class. And his eighth grade crush. And his prom date.

Bull grew up in a small town, and it had only gotten smaller to him since he’d left. Sometimes in quieter moments he’d wondered if he’d ever be able to go back home. He’d seen a lot of the world - granted, most of it with the threat of German artillery at his back - but still. His hometown felt so far away and so small that he couldn’t imagine fitting the size of his memories back there.

And yet, sitting there in the dim candlelight of that convent, listening to those angelic voices, that tiny podunk town was all he could think of. Why couldn’t he remember the name of that street, the one with the post office on it? And what was the name of those neighbors with the herd of basset hounds? He couldn’t recall what kind of flowers his Ma planted in front of the house, facing due east. Bull realized that he was forgetting home, and it opened a gaping wound in his heart.

One thing he did remember clearly was you. He hadn’t seen you in a long time, maybe not for months before he’d signed up for the 101st. You’d been working at the florist right off 1st Street the last he’d heard. Why he hadn’t looked in on you after high school, he couldn’t say. He’d been sweet on you back then, puppy love head-over-heels type stuff. You were his first kiss, his first date, his first of just about everything. Including his first love.

Somewhere along the way, Bull had gotten the hare-brained idea that he’d outgrown you. He’d stopped calling, stopped asking you out to the movies or to the diner. He remembered how he’d seen you out one night, his arm slung over some other girl that his buddy had set him up with. He remembered the way you’d stared with your lip shaking, your eyes welling with tears, before you’d practically run off into the Sears department store. Bull knew damn well you couldn’t afford anything in Sears; all of the money you’d ever made working as an English tutor and a nanny went to taking care of your eleven foster siblings. He knew you ran in there just to get away from him. At the time, he’d laughed about it. He’d told himself you’d be fine, you’d grow up eventually and get over it. He told himself that’s exactly what he’d done - grown up - but now he realized quite the opposite. He’d been intimidated by how much he’d liked you, how much he’d thought about you and worried after you and how scared he’d been when he’d realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed you anymore. You with your hand-me-down dresses and your sweet, shy smile and your head always in the clouds of a romance novel. His buddies had commented on it, and suddenly Bull had felt jealous, insecure even. He’d hated it, and he’d run from it.

But that night in Foy, you were the only place his mind could land. You were all he thought of. And he’d promised himself that if he somehow managed to walk out of hell at the end of the war, that he’d ask you out again. Who knew what you were up to now. He thought he remembered his Ma make an off-hand comment that you’d started working at the hospital in the next town over, but he couldn’t be sure. But Bull knew you’d be back in that small town, probably just as sweet as ever. And if you gave him another chance, he’d never let you go again.

Three days after stepping foot back in the States, and Bill was standing outside your house in his Army dress uniform, a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands. He wondered if you’d remember that he’d gotten you those same flowers for your prom corsage. They’d stood out against the baby pink of your dress that you’d borrowed from your cousin. Every time Bull saw a sunset or a flower bed, he thought of you. In fact, there wasn’t much that Bull saw these days that didn’t make him think of you.

He knocked three times sharply on the door. Your house looked just the same as ever: the front porch sagged in the middle, the curtains drawn and stained, the paint peeling. There was a ruckus inside, and what sounded to be about a dozen kids all screamed out “DOOR!”

A severe woman with dark gray hair slicked back into a tight bun answered. Her mouth was a thin, straight gash and her eyes narrowed in something between distaste and disbelief. She glanced down at the flowers in Bull’s hands and at the sharp, crisply ironed lines of his uniform.

Mother Beatrice, Bull said with a slight bow. Not sure if you remember me, ma’am, but I-

I remember you. Randelman, right? You here for the girl?

Your foster mother looked older but her manner was as cold and loveless as ever. She never used names for the children she took in - just called them by various impersonal monikers. For some reason, yours had always been “the girl”. Bull wasn’t the only one who’d overlooked you.

He nodded, thinking that if Easy had Mother Beatrice in their ranks then Germany might have fallen about a year earlier. He’d have to be sure to tell you that. He was certain you would laugh.

I wondered if anyone would come Mother Beatrice commented as she shut the door behind her, muffling the sounds of screeching children. She walked down the front porch steps and turned towards the back of the old farmhouse without a backwards glance. Bull followed, his brow furrowing slightly at her cryptic comment. He figured you might have had a few pen pals on the front, some girls would do that sort of thing, write to strangers to try and keep their spirits up. He’d heard that some of the men had made a point to look in on their pen pals when they’d gotten back home. Maybe that’s what she meant.

She’s back here? Bull asked, taking in the sight of the rundown farmhouse-turned-orphanage and its weedy lawn. As long as he’d known you, he’d never known you to linger here. Too loud, no privacy you’d always told him. Bull usually found you in the library or a park bench. Somewhere quiet.

Mother Beatrice nodded, shooting him a strangely exasperated look. Course she is, where else would she go? The girl doesn’t have any other home.

Bull chewed his lip thoughtfully. He supposed that was true. Maybe things had changed.

Mother Beatrice led him around the backside of the dingy farmhouse, past a rundown chicken coop with a few mangy looking birds pecking at the dirt. There was a dilapidated stable off in the distance with one bony mare grazing on the tall grass and an overgrown vegetable garden. The tree line off in the distance looked ominously dark, like a line of guards sent to make sure the misery of this place didn’t spread.

Mother Beatrice stopped short, and Bull almost walked into her. There she is.

Bull looked around but didn’t see you. In addition to the forlorn horse, the garden and the coop, he noted a greenhouse missing more windows than it had and a towering oak tree reaching up for the sky as if running away from the unfortunate place it’d been planted. But no sign of you anywhere

Mother Beatrice looked at him intently for a moment, making Bull squirm in his boots, before sharply turning on her heel to leave. She called back to him at the base of the tree and vanished around the side of the house.

Alone at last, Bull looked at the shadowy trunk but didn’t see anything. Must be around the backside, he reasoned. He started walking towards the tree, but a strange quiet settled over him. Suddenly, his collar felt too tight and his chest felt hollow. Something wasn’t right.

As he approached the tree, he began to make out what Mother Beatrice was referring to. He could hardly believe his eyes, and with each step forward he felt his feet grow heavier as if his boots were filled with lead. About ten paces from the trunk, he stopped, unable to go any closer. His shoulders sagged and he felt the bouquet slip out of his hands.

There you were, your name staring back at him from the headstone.

Y/n Y/l/n October 11, 1924-January 9, 1945 Army Nurse Corps May she rest in the peace of the Lord

Bull wasn’t sure how long he stared at the stone. At your name. At the words Army Nurse Corps. Bull hadn’t known you were a nurse. He hadn’t remembered your birthday. He realized he’d been misspelling your last name this whole time.

Bull stood and stared until the light was almost gone from the sky. The sound of Mother Beatrice ringing a bell and calling out dinner! from the front porch jarred him out of his reverie. He hastily wiped the tears that had long ago dried on his face, feeling out of place and like an unwelcome intruder.

He left without saying goodbye. He did manage to tilt the bouquet against your headstone, and run his fingers over the cold edges of your name cut into the marble. He didn’t feel entitled to much else.

It wasn’t until he was home that night, deeper into a bottle of whiskey than a grieving man ought to be, when he realized something.

January 9th, 1945. The day you’d died. It was the same day he’d sat in that convent outside Foy, listening to that angelic choir, reminiscing about you and imagining a future that would never come to be.

***********************************************************************

Still working on... Joseph Liebgott Doc Roe Maybe David Webster too? *let me know if you have any other requests

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kairiscorner · 1 year

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hi hii lovie!! would u mind doing a short blurb of miguel being with a harleyquinnfem!reader? i just rewatched suicide squad and birds of prey and i just think margot’s harley quinn and miguel would be such an iconic pairing given those two have complete different personalities lol, thank you!! hope u hv a good day!

HELLOOOOO !! OMG, ok i just wanna preface this, i am not exactly very well-versed in a lot of DC characters so i'm really sorry if i end up not doing requests for those characters or if the execution is really shitty, BUT THIS ONE IS SOMETHING I'M A LITTLE MORE FAMILIAR WITH AND ONE I WANNA SEE :'DD again, REALLY SORRY IF I DO IT HORRIBLY 😭😭😭but here ya go, i hope you like it anon <:))

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel o'hara x harley quinn!fem!reader

summary: you two agreed not to kill each other, which is easier said than done; but someday, eventually... you'll come to realize that he sees you as more than an extra hand in fighting off tricky villains, that he cares about you more than you'll ever know. word count: 853

right as miguel thought that this would be the end of the line for him as the villain kept him pinned against the ground–about to dissect his innards and skin him like a spider to be taxidermied–he soon heard cackling from far away. he rolled his eyes further into the back of his head in an attempt to roll them weakly out of exhaustion as he groaned in utter defeat.

'great, that pain in the ass knew i was here.' he thought to himself as you came with a bang–quite literally as you blew up a street on your way here and caused 12 cars to crash into each other. "hey you ugly, bowl cut bitch!" she called out to the villain miguel was being pinned down by. you giggled as you jumped up in the air and swung your gigantic mallet at the cybernetic villain and bashed her head in. you licked your lips at the destruction, and the villain–despite looking banged up and having a few sparks flying out of the right side of her head, smirked at you. "that all you got, ya little harlot?" she asked as her grip on miguel's neck tightened, eliciting groans and grunts from her sheer strength.

you giggled as you swung your mallet for show. "now, now, if anyone's gonna choke little miggy 'till he's blue in the face and sobbing and begging for forgiveness, it's gonna be me." you declared as you jumped up again and brought your mallet down to squash her–but the villain aimed at you with their finger guns and shot lasers at you as you were in mid-air. you grinned wider as you contorted yourself in the air to dodge the lasers; you were very flexible and super fast, and miguel knew that very well. the villain didn't give up, however, as she shot at your blind spot, getting you by your feet and causing you to lose balance as you got shot in the knee.

you grunted in pain as you fell down, with the villain laughing as she turned to miguel. you got up and watched as the villain leaned over to kiss miguel, "fucking gross." you muttered as you tried getting up to your feet, when you heard the villain yelp a little as she froze up and loosened her grip around miguel. you giggled as you watched miguel get up and look at you from the corner of his eye. "all yours." he muttered as he helped you up.

"wait," he said as he webbed up the gaping wound in your knee from the shot. "can you walk?" he asked you with a tone of concern in his voice. you didn't answer him as you climbed onto him and whispered in his ear, "toss me." miguel was used to this showy scene, though he hated doing it–out of fear he'd throw you too far. he followed through however and tossed you at the villain, who was recuperating from the paralysis miguel's venom gave her. taking out this villain was like a walk in the park for you as you brought your mallet up and whispered a little, "bye-bye!" as you brought down your vengeance–or just utter desire to hit something right now–upon her with a loud smash!

you skipped over to miguel with a bright smile on your face. "job's done!" you said with a perky voice as miguel rolled his eyes as he looked over at the damage you caused on your way here. "this is, what, four million dollars in property damage?" he asked you sarcastically, to which you giggled and counted on your fingers. "correction, fourteen million dollars!" you said with a giggle as miguel opened a portal and gently took your wrist in his hand as he dragged you along. "hey now! you promised me that next time, we'd go sight-seeing in the universes we're in! how dare you break your promise, miggy?!" you whined as miguel placed his hand under your chin and gave you a stern look.

"when you'd behave." he said as he leaned down a little towards you. "it'll happen if you prove to behave yourself, and this little stunt you pulled off, it calls for a good talking to with you. you'll get what you want from me if you behave, do i make myself clear?" he asked you as you nodded slowly and smiled up at him. "gotcha, miggy." you said in a chipper voice as you walked through the portal, then running back out, but with miguel grabbing you by the collar and dragging you back in. "the things i do for you..." he muttered as he rubbed his eyes. though, weirdly enough... he finds your chaotic way of saving him a little endearing. either you've pissed him off so much that he misses feeling responsible for your mess, or it's that you've had his heart ever since you tried to kill him the first time you two met. ah, well, it doesn't matter now; as long as you're safe, and will get that wound fixed up, he wouldn't have you any other way.

a/n: i love this dynamic WAIT AAAAAAAAAAAAAA also thanks ate @binibinileonara for risque's nickname :> also SHET PARE, i fr was so desperate to see miggy's eyes roll to the back of his skull when the vulture was choking him, like- please.

tags !! @binibinileonara @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @yuridopted0

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #harley quinn #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 10 months

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What's your fav Joel Kinnaman character? Mine is probs holder tbh

(I'm trying to find more stuff with him to watch, I nearly almost might just watch holder scene packs on YouTube lol) I watched a little bit of that Netflix thing, I can't mind the name of the show, he was called kovacs in it and people kept changing bodies, but I didn't like it so I never finished it, I feel like there's not enough things with him in it

I always say there are the big three when it comes to Kinnaman characters: Rick Flag, Takeshi Kovacs, and Stephen Holder.

I tolerate Rick in 2016's Suicide Squad (and he does have moments I actually really love), but my obsession for Rick comes solely from 2021's The Suicide Squad. He was what sparked my Joel love and I love every moment with him in that film (yes, even that part because I am a gluten for pain).

I can see why Altered Carbon (the Netflix show with him as Takeshi Kovacs) isn't everyone's cup of tea but I LOVE IT!!! And his character is so layered and complex and hits all the character traits I love. Plus, he is GORGEOUS in it! And he can effortlessly switch between being an angry kickass asshole to a tender, heartbroken soul in seconds.

And as you said, Stephen Holder from The Killing is such a great and complex character! He's so pathetic and sad and I just constantly want to give him a hug! And it's insane looking at him and remembering he is the same Joel that plays Tak or Rick because Joel was SO skinny back then! But I love it so much!!!

A few honorable mentions you might want to try seeking out if you are looking for more Joel content:

Ed Baldwin in "For All Mankind" (a show on Apple+). Ed is a very close 4th place Joel character for me and each season his character gets a decade older so it is fun to watch him play all these different ages (including the current season when he is in his 70s)

Pete Koslow in "The Informer" (movie). The movie itself is very dark but good. However, Joel's performance is the highlight (and it is probably the thickest he's been)

Erik Heller in "Hanna" (a show on Amazon Prime). I'll be honest, I still haven't finished the first season but I've seen all the gifs and clips and he does a really good job here.

Brian Godlock in "Silent Night" (movie released in some parts of the world last week). This revenge action movie has absolutely no dialogue but Joel is AMAZING at conveying all the emotions needed for his role and he kind of gives me older Holder vibes throughout.

#hope you maybe find something you like here!#thanks!#anon ask #joel kinnaman #rick flag #takeshi kovacs #stephen holder #the suicide squad #altered carbon #the killing

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zahri-melitor · 1 year

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Okay I'm joining in as we haven't had this yet: Post-Crisis Barbara Gordon Writers! Given there is not a shortage of options for 1987-2011 we are going with post-Crisis, pre-Flashpoint only

If someone has another favourite they want to rep, let me know, but I think I hit everyone who wrote significant Barbara content. (If you want to come and tell me Barbara Randall Kesel is your fave and I overlooked her, I respect you)

References for the list: Ostrander & Yale: Oracle Year One, Suicide Squad #23-65 Alan Moore: the Killing Joke Chuck Dixon: Birds of Prey #1-46, BoP singles & Manhunt, Nightwing #1-70, Batgirl Year One Gail Simone: Birds of Prey #56-108, vol 2 #1-13 Tony Bedard: Birds of Prey #109-112, #118-127 Kelley Puckett: Batgirl vol 1 #1-37, Batman: Batgirl, Batgirl Girlfrenzy Bryan Q. Miller: Batgirl vol 3 #1-24 Grant Morrison: JLA #23-41 John Francis Moore: Batman: Family, BoP Batgirl/Catwoman, BoP Catwoman/Oracle Devin Grayson: Gotham Knights #1-11, 14-32, Nightwing #71-100

#barbara gordon #It's either Simone or Yale for me #but I truly enjoy most of this list so I'm interested in what other people think (other than certain obvious bait I added)#is John Francis Moore on this list to simply point out his content exists? maybe

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gayartbirb · 6 months

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About Poison Ivy and Count Vertigo

Hi, hello, I’m not dead, I’ve just been incredibly busy and kind of taking a break from social media in general. Currently on a MASSIVE DC Comics kick and there’s one particular topic that I’ve seen some HORRENDOUS takes about on here, so let’s discuss.

I never thought I’d be saying this, but CONTENT WARNING: I’m unfortunately going to be discussing topics related to rape and sexual assault below the cut. If that ain’t your cup of tea, I completely understand, and you’re free to scroll away now. TLDR if you don’t wanna read the whole thing: I’ve seen people accuse Poison Ivy of raping Count Vertigo just because she brainwashed him. These people have clearly never read the comic in question, and I’m sick and tired of this misinformation being spread around.

Okay? Okay, let’s do this.

So, it shouldn’t suprise anyone that Poison Ivy is probably one of my favorite DC characters of all time. I mean, I consider her to be one of my first gay awakenings (the others were Darcy from Winx Club and Emma Frost from Wolverine and the X-Men, if you’re wondering). So, when I see people accuse Ivy of being a full-blown RAPIST, I’m obviously gonna be upset.

Now, me being a simp is not clouding my judgement in this case. When I first saw people making this claim, I tried my dammdest to put my bias to the side and figure out what the hell these people were talking about. Lo and behold, I find out that it’s complete BS.

This particular claim stems from John Ostrander’s run on Suicide Squad starting back in 1987. I’m specifically referring to issue #45. This section on Count Vertigo’s Wikipedia page explains what went down infinitely better than I could, so I’m just gonna quote it here:

“He would later come to join the Suicide Squad in exchange for a shortened prison sentence, and it was revealed that he was plagued by bipolar disorder. After the Suicide Squad disbanded for the first time, Count Vertigo was captured by Vlatavan rebels, who wished to use his powers to overthrow the current Vlatavan government. They used a variety of drugs on him, each with a differing effect on the Count, as he would for example suddenly see himself as an Angel of Vengeance, sent to wreak havoc on the current rulers. Although he largely believed himself master of his own will, his mood swings were completely subject to his captors.

He was captured by Poison Ivy when the Suicide Squad came in and resolved the conflict and Kaligari (then-ruler of Vlatava) was murdered. Count Vertigo was Poison Ivy's slave for a long period of time, during which he grew to hate Poison Ivy and frequently threatened to kill her when he was free of her control. Amanda Waller was able to free Vertigo of her control so that he could stop a group of missiles hitting Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem at the behest of the villain Kobra. If the Dome had been destroyed, innocent lives would have been lost in a resulting war.

Vertigo succeeded, and it turned out that as he went into rehab and expunged the chemicals that had been pumped into his body by both Ivy and the rebels, that he was unwittingly cured of the disorder that had plagued him for so long.”

I’d also like to point out this snippet:

“Vertigo also resolved his grudge with Poison Ivy. During the War of the Gods crossover, he was perfectly willing to let her die when he found her abandoned on an Amazonian island; ironically, she was bound and promised whoever freed her, her undying devotion. Snickering snidely, Vertigo left her to die in the ruins of the collapsing temple they were in. Still, Ivy was saved, and Count Vertigo would later reluctantly work alongside her in the Suicide Squad, leaving their grudge be.”

Now, what does this have to do with Ivy allegedly being a rapist? Well, I’ve seen multiple people on here claim that Ivy raped Count Vertigo when she brainwashed him. To be quite blunt, this couldn’t be further from the truth. There is no, and I mean NO instances of Ivy raping or assaulting Count Vertigo. The worst thing she does is have him do things for her. That’s it. No overly sexual stuff in there at all. Here, take some pages that (hopefully) prove my point:

So, tell me why I’m seeing people say stuff like this (these were all taken from @super-hero-confessions btw. No hate to that blog, and I’m sorry y’all got caught in the crossfire on this one):

“What Poison Ivy did to Count Vertigo is exactly what Purple Man did to Jessica Jones. If it’s okay to stan Ivy, then it should be okay to stan Killgrave.”

“POISON IVY IS A RAPIST, USING HER PHEROMONES TO MAKE PEOPLE DO THINGS THEY WOULDN'T NORMALLY DO IS THE SAME AS GIVING SOMEONE A DATE RAPE DRUG. TRYING TO CALL PEOPLE HOMOPHOBIC BECAUSE YOU DON'T LIKE THE PAST OF YOUR FAVE CHARACTER BEING POINTED OUT, JUST SHOWS IMMATURITY AND THE FACT THAT HARL/IVY FANS FORGET THAT IVY IS A VILLAIN.”

“IT'S REALLY TELLING TO ME THAT THE PEOPLE WHO CALL JOKER A RAPIST FOR WHAT HE DID TO BARBARA ARE THE TYPE OF PEOPLE WHO MAKE EXCUSES OR TRY TO DOWNPLAY POISON IVY ACTUALLY RAPING COUNT VERTIGO. "IT WAS A DIFFERENT TIME BACK THEN, IT DOESN'T COUNT." YOU'RE DISGUSTING AND A HYPOCRITE.”

“I LOVE SEEING POISON IVY FAN BLOGS SAYING IT'S WRONG TO LIKE PURPLE MAN BECAUSE HE'S A RAPIST. I GUESS THEY THINK A WOMAN RAPING A MAN LIKE WHAT IVY DID TO COUNT VERTIGO DOESN'T COUNT.”

“POISON IVY DOESN'T DESERVE A REDEMPTION ARC BECAUSE SHE IS A RAPIST.”

“IT ANNOYS ME WHEN PEOPLE SAY JOKER SHOULDN'T BE GAY BECAUSE HE'S DONE BAD THINGS. POISON IVY IS A RAPIST AND A SERIAL KILLER AND NO ONE COMPLAINS ABOUT HER BEING LGBT? WHY CAN'T JOKER BE?”

Now, I’m saying all of this in relation to Count Vertigo. If there’s any ACTUAL instances of Ivy raping someone, feel free to let me know. HOWEVER, if you’re going to do that, I want you to cite the actual comic where it happens. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in college, it’s that you should never make a claim if you can’t back it up with an actual source.

That being said, I think the idea of Ivy and Vertigo being a couple is really funny, and I’m absolutely down to write a fanfiction addressing all of this stuff if anyone’s interested. I may be a shitty fiction writer, but dammit, I’m willing to try.

Anyway, stop calling Ivy a rapist. Sure, she does stuff that crosses a line on occassion, but she’s a villain. I’m pretty sure they all do that.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go listen to some Precure OST’s to cleanse my mind of this absolute nonsense.

#tw: r*pe #tw: sa #rant #dc comics #count vertigo #poison ivy #pamela isley #suicide squad

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drbatsponge · 8 months

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My thoughts on Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League...

I recently have been playing Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League and thought I would share my thoughts on it.

I'll start off by saying that yeah the game is getting a lot of flak for various different reasons:

It being a live service title.

It being a part of the Arkhamverse.

The fact you actually kill the Justice League in the game titled “Kill the Justice League”, lmfao.

And finally the whole situation with Kevin Conroy and the fact that this was one of his last performances.

(As we know now it wasn't THE last performance he gave as Batman, he'll apparently be in part 3 of the Tommorowverse Crisis movies.)

I'll start off by saying that I actually did enjoy the game, it's certainly different from the Arkham games being that it is a looter shooter akin to say Destiny, but I didn't actually mind the gameplay and actually think it's rather satisfying once you've upgraded your character enough and get some cool weapons.

I played as Deadshot for the majority of my playthrough of the story, switching sometimes to other characters, especially Boomerang, and I find each is somewhat unique enough.

I really like each character's traversal but HATE the cooldowns, that's a mechanic I find especially annoying, like I want to fly or speed around the city without having to stop every once in a while, lol.

Anyways, shooting and blowing enemies up is pretty fun, especially with the affliction mechanic you get from Ivy, I love the freezing mechanic specifically because it's much easier to mow down enemies.

There's also Gizmo's vehicles which are ridiculously overpowered and I can't lie and say I don't love blowing things up with them, lol.

As for the story... it's a little undercooked, seeing as it is part 1 of a larger narrative, being as this is a live service game it unfortunately ends in a cliffhanger to set up future DLC content.

I think I would be bothered by this more if the DLC wasn't totally free, so instead I'm not gonna nitpick this aspect too much, as I said the DLC is free, if they had made me pay for it I would've probably been more cross.

I do think the world building in this game is really good, there's like remnants you can find of the citizens of Metropolis and what they were doing at the beginning of the Brainiac invasion that I found especially interesting.

Also Metropolis looks and feels amazing, it's probably one of the best open world designs I've seen in a video game, so Rocksteady definitely didn't skimp on the art design with this game.

There's also audio logs you can find about what happened to the League and it's particularly tragic and I think the entire cast of voice actors do a great job.

As for the main story, there's a lot to like and there's a lot to dislike.

Obviously one of the main gripes I see is that you actually kill the Justice League in this game, and... it doesn't bother me too much? I guess that's because I caught on to some of the hints they were dropping about the JL, and without going too much into spoiler-territory, I'll just say things aren't as they seem with them.

Now for the elephant in the room which is how the game treats the Arkhamverse and obviously Batman, considering this is one of Kevin's final outings as the character.

I'll start by saying that Kevin Conroy gives a fantastic performance in this game, he's great as an evil Batman and you can hear it in his voice, he was absolutely not held at gunpoint or anything to record his lines for this game, lol.

There's obviously some issues to be had with how it ends for his Batman, but like I said... not everything is as it seems, so I definitely don't think this is the last we'll be seeing or hearing from Batman in this game, that's all I'll say.

Also there's a tribute at the end for Kevin that's really heartfelt and it made me tear up a bit. 🥹

As for how they try to weave the Arkhamverse narrative into this game? I think it's a bit sloppy all things considered.

Like yeah the museum that Jack Ryder made is cool and all but you literally could've made this game not connected to the Arkhamverse with a few changes and things would've been fine, lol.

(Also I'm not too happy about Arkham Origins being discluded from the museum section, what is your problem with it Rocksteady!?)

The Arkhamverse itself is sloppy sure, and there's fair criticisms to be had about it, but I just don't see a reason why this game is set in that universe to begin with, I guess because Rocksteady thought people wouldn't be interested unless there were some connections to those games.

As for the game being live service, that hasn't entirely bothered me yet.

As I said the DLC is completely free.

And most of the live service stuff is for cosmetics.

If the game had made me pay for more than just outfits for my characters, I would've probably been more upset, so this game isn't really all that predatory with the live service elements imo.

(You also get some free cosmetics in-game for completing Riddler races, so that's cool.)

I do think it's a bit of a bummer that the game has to be always online to play it, but Rocksteady did say there is an offline mode coming soon.

Also I only had like a few connection issues, so it never really interrupted my time playing all that much.

Anyways, I would say Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League is a solid 7/10 game, it has some flaws sure, but nothing that made me think the game is as bad as some people are making it out to be, I definitely have enjoyed my time playing it and am interested in the DLC going forward.

I certainly hope it lasts longer than most live service games, but you never know with these titles unfortunately, either way I still think you all should give it a try while it's still going!

Well, that's my thoughts on SS: KTJL, I hope everyone enjoyed reading them!

As always stay tuned! Same bat-time, same bat-channel!

#suicide squad kill the justice league #suicide squad #harley quinn #deadshot #captain boomerang #king shark #batman #kevin conroy #justice league #video games #dc comics

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author-chan06 · 3 months

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Writing Requests

Requests: Closed

Fandom Categories:

Green Fandoms are ones I’m heavily/more involved in at the moment. These requests will be the most likely of the ones to get done first unless another prompt particularly inspires me.

Orange Fandoms are ones I’m still willing to write for, but am less into/involved in at the moment. These requests will be completed after the green fandom ones, unless there is a particular prompt that inspires me.

Red Fandoms are ones that I am not involved in at the moment. I will not write for these then, but if I don’t take them off the list, then that means I believe it is likely that I will eventually be open to writing for them again.

This post will be edited every two weeks so it’s accurate, and if you are unsure of when that is, at the bottom of this post it will tell the exact date and time of the last edit was done.

Fandoms:

Markiplier Egos

SCP Foundation

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Sanders Sides

Batman

Gravity Falls

Marvel

The Owl House

Hamilton

My Hero Academia

Haikyu!!

Naruto

General Knowledge:

Batman:

I have a general knowledge of big events that involve specifically Batman and Joker, and quite a bit about some of the Batfam (Dick, Tim, Jason, Damian, Barbara) but I am not fully up to date with everything, as that seems to be almost impossible, so do be specific about things that I might not know so I don’t do the requests wrong. I have read the first ever Batman comics (including many of the ones in Detective Comics), some of the World’s Finest Comics, Batman: Europa, The Killing Joke, Batman: Lovers & Madmen, and Batman Confidential #2. I also know about things like Death Of The Family, though I haven’t read it yet. I have watched The Dark Knight, some bits and pieces of Batman: The Animated Series, The LEGO Batman Movie, Season One Of The Harley Quinn Series, Joker (2019), The Suicide Squad, Birds Of Prey, and up to S3E14 of the Gotham TV show. I also know the basic idea of Telltale, and The Arkham series, have played some, and have written about them before.

This means that if you do not specify which Batman you want, I will use my own interpretation of their characters that I have gained from all of these sources and from some spectator fan content I’ve found as well.

Markiplier Egos:

I have watched Who Killed Markiplier?, Wilford ‘MOTHERLOVING’ Warfstache, DAMIEN, Markiplier TV, A Date With Markiplier, A Heist With Markiplier, DARKIPLIER vs ANTISEPTICEYE, The Fall of Slenderman, Five Nights At Freddy’s: The Interview, Warfstache Interviews Markiplier, Google IN REAL LIFE, Google IRL, Google Gets An Upgrade, Danger In Fiction, Hire My Ass, Ed Edgar Adoptallot’s Baby Bulk Buy, Super Infidelity, Worst News Doctor, King Of The Squirrels, all the Yandere Simulator Videos, all the older quick Ego appearances before the story line was established, all of the Jim Videos, and In Space With Markiplier. I have not watched the longer explanation videos but I have seen parts of them and heard others talk about them, so I know some of that information as well.

SCP Foundation:

Though I don’t read many of the files on the wiki I have read through SCP-049, SCP-682, and SCP-610. Most of my characterization and knowledge of these guys comes from Site 42’s YouTube, and SCP Explained on YouTube.

If you want anyone to act like they do in a certain story please either explain how they act or direct me towards the story. A link would be helpful if you are able, but it is not necessary.

Sanders Sides:

I have watched all of the videos in the Official Sanders Sides Playlist, including Asides. I have also watched Janus Plays Among Us, and quite a few of the old Vines and the new shorts with Remy and Andy, and will write for them as well.

Hazbin Hotel:

I have watched the Pilot, and all of Season One. I do not know much at all about the old comics and the like, but I know some things (like that Alastor and Mimzy were dating in that or that Angel and Vaggie were dating) and I would be willing to write a bit about it, but I would need those requests to be more specific to make sure I don’t get anything wrong.

Helluva Boss:

I have watched the Pilot, all of Season One, and all of Season Two that is out at the moment. I have also watched Hell’s Belles.

Gravity Falls:

I have watched all of Season One, and all of Season Two. I have a Journal 3, and know about the Cipher Hunt. I have watched all of the Game Theory videos about this series and know about all the codes and hidden stuff in the journal and in the series. I also know about the Axolotl, his riddle, and know about the Same Coin Theory that says that Stan and Bill are the same.

Marvel:

I’ve fallen out of recent iterations and the like, but I still do like these things. I’ve watched the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man Movies, the Andrew Garlfield Spider-Man Movies, The Ryan Reynolds Deadpool Movies, the Iron Man Movies, the Thor Movies, the Avengers, all the Guardians Of The Galaxy Movies, Black Panther, the Tom Holland Spider-Man Movies, Black Widow, and Loki. I know the gist, and have seen clips, of movies that are pivotal to the movies and the universe (like Civil War or Endgame) but I have yet to watch them, so I can reference them but not in a lot of specific detail.

The Owl House:

I’ve watched Season One, Season Two, and Season Three. I also know about its connections with other shows, so those can be referenced, but I don’t know a lot about some of the shows, so they would have to be smaller mentions.

My Hero Academia:

I’ve watched up to S3E7, My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising, My Hero Academia: Rescue! Rescue Training, and My Hero Academia: Training of the Dead. Though I haven’t watched or read them yet, I do know a lot of the pivotal or big moments that have happened (like the Dabi reveal or that Deku left UA, becoming a vigilante) I especially know about the “villains” stories, and could probably talk more in detail about them than the other characters.

Haikyu!!:

I have watched up to S2E14, and the Lev Appears! OVA. I know a lot of what happens in this later, from minor spoilers to very big ones (like I know that Karasuno gets to Nationals and I know that Oikawa and Hinata end up on the same team, Brazil, for a while before Oikawa moves onto playing for Argentina)

Naruto:

I have watched all of Naruto, and Naruto Shippuden. I even watched all the fillers. But I have not read the manga, nor have I read the novels, though I have heard about some of the things that they talk about (like Itachi’s lover and what happened between Sasuke and Sakura) I also haven’t watched The Last: Naruto The Movie, though I know what happens in it.

Hamilton:

I have watched the musical, and listened to the deleted songs. I also know quite a bit about the actual real life people, and know many of the ways that the musical was misleading or just wrong (especially with the King, as I know quite a lot about him because of my research)

Rules/Guidelines:

Do not request romantic ships with anyone younger than 8 with a teenager or an adult

Do not request smut for anyone younger than 14 with anyone, even with another kid/teenager

Do not request smut with any animal that is not sentient. Animals are fine so long as they are able to understand the world around them.

When making a request you are able to make it as specific or as vague as you want, but remember that the more vague you make it, the more likely I am to embellish things into it.

I will do Character X Reader, and Character X Character. I will not do Character or Reader X OC, because I do not think I will be able to do then well, and I would prefer to write for the characters that I already know and love.

When making a request tell me whether you want it to be platonic, queerplatonic, romantic, or sexual, and any other specifications of that kind. Whether there’s tertiary attractions that you want shown, or more than one type, etc…

When making a request tell me whether you want a fanfic, headcannons, or just a question answered. Or if you want it answered by me or by a character. If you don’t have a preference for what it is, let me know that too. I would hate to make the wrong thing for you, so let me know.

Fanfiction that is made will be cross posted onto AO3 unless you state that is something that you are not comfortable with. Headcanons and answered asks will stay on Tumblr only.

I do take anon asks/requests, though if you plan on asking multiple times please assign yourself a name of some sort.

If you request something off anon then when it’s done, I will tag you in it, unless you ask me not to, so you are sure to notified.

The Ships I Will Write For Are Here, minus the ships I will write for Markiplier Egos, SCP Foundation, Naruto, and for Haikyu!!, as I haven’t had the time to update it for those yet. But as long as I have a grasp of the characters, I’ll pretty much do any ship. Just ask me if you’re unsure, and I’ll let you know whether I’ll write it or not, probability that I will is high.

If I hit twenty requests I will close requests until I get then number back down to at least five and then will open them again.

I do queue things so expect your request to take from three days to about two weeks, depending on the already existing queue and my own personal life which can be busy.

I think that’s all for now! I look forward to all your requests! <222

The Last Edit Was On August 26th At 10:16pm

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it-is-i-zim · 11 months

Note

hi there! how do you feel about suicide squad: rebirth? i’ve heard a lot of mixed reviews and while i enjoyed it, i can understand a lot of the criticisms.

Suicide Squad: Rebirth the series or Suicide Squad: Rebirth the comic that leads into the series? Either way I feel obligated to say that they're good as a Captain Boomerang fan because it's like... One of very few comics that characterize him alright.

Like... In Suicide Squad: Rebirth (the comic) the burp here was kinda... Unnecessary? I get that he's supposed to be like... The Gross One™ and they're trying to show that but it feels weird because this is the only time it happens in the comic and it didn't happen at all after that in the series.

In the series it was replaced with something... A lot worse... Toilet humor.

This would be fine if this was supposed to be for a much younger audience, but I think the target audience is supposed to be late teens and young adults and it just happens so often in the series that it kinda feels less like toilet humor and more like the writer's barely disguised fetish.

But I did really enjoy Digger referencing to the Alien franchise.

Not only does it confirm the existence of the Alien franchise in the DC universe, but it gives Digger something other than Boomerang Man. You know?

Let's not forget his Uber Autism Moment™

And then there's how Captain Boomerang was characterized with Hack. He shows remorse. Like... Actual, genuine remorse.

He killed her, but as you can see even after he's done it he just feels awful. He felt obligated to do so because he's supposed to be "the bad guy" and he hates himself so much.

And Harley Quinn picks up on his guilt a few issues later.

THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT!!!!! THIS IS WHAT I WANT TO SEE WITH DIGGER MORE OFTEN!!!!!

Give me more of this and less of... Whatever the fuck John Ostrander did to him in the 1987 Suicide Squad comic. If you don't know John Ostrander decided he was racist in that comic and for some reason people still think it's canon when half of the stuff that happened in that comic literally can't even happen anymore as a result of things decided on the current canon such as Sam Scudder being alive and the wrist bombs not being a thing anymore. Not to mention his entire origin is completely different now.

Speaking of his origin... the Secret Agent stuff... exists? I wish they elaborated on it a little more I guess cuz it's an interesting concept. They only ever talked about it in the last 8 pages of issue 2 and then all of issue 47. It felt like it was trying to continue his characterization as a compulsive liar in issue 2 but then the concept was used as filler in issue 47 so it's just canon that he's a former Secret Agent now. And then it hasn't been brought up at all since. And that was 5 years ago.

In all fairness they haven't used him much since, but still. And uh... Seeing how this year's Batman: The Brave and the Bold comic is going with Harcourt's lil story... I think it's going to be a while before he shows up again. Which really sucks for me because it's not like there's a ton of fan content for him, especially not a lot of positive stuff.

Anymore it's Tim Drake fans who haven't seen him at all outside Identity Crisis, that one story from the Red Robin comic where Tim wanted to kill Digger, and Knight Terrors: Robin, as well as people who've literally only seen him in the 1987 Suicide Squad comic and then try to argue with me on what is and isn't canon and then they try to site an Encyclopedia that proves me right more than anything else in an attempt to prove me wrong.

But enough of that. Basically, I like it cuz Captain Boomerang is there and they at least tried to give him something. Unless you're talking about the standalone comic Suicide Squad: Rebirth then I'm neutral about it. Captain Boomerang is there. And that's neat. He's not the biggest douchebag there but he also didn't really do anything so I won't really go out of my way to look for it. Like... I had to pull up a digital copy for the one screenshot all the way at the top.

#long post #captain boomerang #george harkness #digger harkness #Suicide Squad #Suicide Squad Rebirth #Suicide Squad comic #tw blood #cw blood #blood #Sorry about the rant at the end #This also ain't the best review because I literally didn't read the parts that Captain Boomerang wasn't really there for #So I honestly probably missed out on like half the comic #And for that I'm sorry #But it's also not like he's in a whole lot other than this comic and 2 other suicide squad titles that came just before this #Excluding 1987 ofc #God I hate that comic so much #I've literally had to explain to people that he was LESS RACIST in the 60s #The fucking 60s!!!!#LESS RACIST IN THE 60S #WHEN SEGREGATION WAS STILL LEGAL #HE WAS LESS RACIST WHEN SEGREGATION WAS LEGAL MY GUY #THAT'S HOW BAD THE 1987 SUICIDE SQUAD WAS AS A CAPTAIN BOOMERANG FAN

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decks-writing-blog · 9 months

Text

Use This Power for Good

Summary: Gordon discovers that upon dying, he comes back and everything resets, including other people who had died.

[A/N] I'm a sucker for video game protagonists having the power to reset via death. It's neat and full of good angst opportunities. Also when I played Half-Life for the first time I was fairly save-scummy to save as many scientists as I could so upon Youtube reccing me a video about just how many it's physically possible to save, I of course watched it (I missed a bunch in my playthrough). Which, combined with the first thing, is what inspired this fic.

Also, my first Half-Life fic, yay! I'm late to the party but that's okay. Such is the case with most of the fandoms I write for these days.

Content Warning for temporary Character Death. He also commits suicide to purposefully trigger one of these resets.

Upon stepping out of the destroyed test chamber and realizing just how bad things had gotten, Gordon had been pretty sure he wasn’t likely to live much longer. The military showing up to clear out the alien invasion and all who knew of it made death inevitable. The HEV suit had done a lot to keep him alive but it could only do so much. But hey, he’d made it further than he ever would’ve thought he might, if he’d been given the time to think about it anyway. Along the way he’d helped as many as he could. Hopefully a few of them would be able to get out… somehow.

Gordon shifted in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable. All he accomplished was sending a fresh stab of pain through his side as more blood welled out between his fingers. It was pooling on the floor around him and smeared on the wall behind him, filling the air with its now familiar coppery smell. If it spread a little further it’d soon start mingling with the pool of blood leaking out of the solider that had snuck up on him while he’d barely manged to fumble his way into taking out the rest of their squad. They’d died for the effort – Gordon may have never killed anything before today but he had been taught how to use a gun – but the fatal blow had already been made.

Perhaps something profound could be said about their blood mingling in death whilst surrounded by more dead, both alien and human alike. Something about the fragility of life even amongst beings from another world. Or maybe about how violence and killing wasn’t just a human trait but that of all life, regardless of its origin. … Or maybe Gordon was just starting to grow delirious with blood loss.

The end couldn’t be far off. His extremities, gone cold were now growing numb. He couldn’t even properly feel the blood oozing from where he clutched his side, his grip weakening letting it flow even more freely. Not that he’d been able to staunch it particularly well anyway. If his attempt to do so slowed his demise, it hadn’t been by much.

Darkness pulled at him, eating at the edges of his vision, tempting him to close his eyes and fall asleep. He didn’t. Fighting was futile but he’d known that for a while now, far longer than he’d been sitting here waiting to bleed out for. He was going to keep breathing for a long as he possibly could if for no other reason than to spite the world for just that little bit longer because fuck it for trying to kill him so hard.

Gordon blinked. Before him was a familiar hallway, leading to a closed door. On the other side of which would be a military squad, waiting to ambush him. He shouldn’t know that but he’d already gone through that door and… hadn’t survived the encounter.

Shaking a little, he looked down at himself. He was holding his shotgun as he’d been upon first going into that room, down but ready to snap up and fire should the need arise. The HEV suit was a bit scratched up and dented in a few spots but it was intact, no glaring hole in the side from an almost point blank shotgun blast that also tore up his side bad enough to leave him to slowly bleed out. It was fully charged too, meaning it could likely take such a blow and leave him only a little bruised. A quick check with the suit revealed all his ammo wasn’t as depleted as it should’ve been either.

What the hell was going on? One moment he’d been bleeding out, struggling for each and every breath. But now he was hearty and healthy again, as if the last twenty or so minutes hadn’t happened. … A dream or hallucination perhaps? This was the single most stressful day of his life after all, surely such things weren’t too far out of the question. It had felt so real though, especially the pain. Surely such pain couldn’t have been a dream. What else could it have been though?

If he went through that door, would the military squad be there again? Would the fellow who’d killed him? Only one way to find out.

He crept forward and pressed his ear to the door. … Nothing for a while but then… low muttering and the shifting of heavy boots. The door muffled the words to the point he couldn’t understand them but someone was certainly on the other side. Multiple someones since the speaker was most likely talking to someone else.

Straightening, he reached up and pressed the button to bring the HEV’s helmet up before adjusting his grip on his shotgun and bursting into the room. Exactly as before he was met with three soldiers immediately. Last time, he’d been somewhat surprised and had had to scramble. This time he knew exactly where to go and wasted no time in doing so.

Two more soldiers were waiting for him there but he was ready for them this time. As he got into position, he lifted the shotgun and blasted the closer one in the face, making their head explode in a shower of gore. Kicking the body into the guy behind them gave the perfect opportunity to blow their head off too. He hadn’t gotten a good look at either of their faces in either instance he was here but they had been standing in about the same exact spot. No time to think about that now though.

In response to Gordon moving to cover, the next two soldiers moved to the same positions as before. And then, sealing the deal that his death hadn’t been a dream, while Gordon was looking at them, the third came up behind him, ready to try to blast through the suit with a point blank shot while he was busy taking out the others. Knowing it was coming, Gordon turned and fired before they could get that close. Another close range head shot. Effective, especially with how heavily armored the soldiers’ torsos were, but gosh were they horrific. But with that guy down, the last two weren’t too much of an issue to take out as well.

As the gunshot’s echoes petered out, he lifted a hand to lower his helmet, allowing him to see properly once more. These military guys all looked similar, especially with their heads blown off, so there was still technically room to doubt they were the same ones he’d killed before dying himself. But they’d been in the same spots and had tried the same tactics to kill him so that doubt was rather small, bolstered only by the impossibility of not just Gordon coming back to life but the soldiers too.

Then again, before staring to work at Black Mesa almost a handful of years ago now, there’d been plenty of other things Gordon had thought impossible that proved to not be. Perhaps direct exposure to the resonance cascade had done something to him, altered the way time affected him or dropped him in a parallel universe upon dying. Or something else he was too frazzled to consider right now.

It was fascinating whatever it was. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be back in the lab, studying it. … Except well, testing it would likely involve him dying some more or just again, assuming it could only happen once. In which case he didn’t really want to test it after all. After he got out of here, he’d try to find a way to study it that didn’t involve dying… assuming he ever got out of here. He’d just learned the hard way that, no matter how many aliens, zombies, or military goons he killed, he was still a soft squishy animal protected only by a hazard suit that even as advanced as it was, was still far from infallible.

Three more accidental deaths sealed the deal that when he died, he came back a seemingly random amount of time before that death. As before, with his death, everyone and everything else who’d also died in that time came back too, ignorant of the revival. Annoying when it came to the beings responsible for his death – though it did make killing them again easier – but a great good for the scientist he managed to save as a result. Which sealed the deal on him using this power for good.

How long had he been in this state? Presumably since the resonance cascade. If only he’d known, there were so many he’d tried and failed to save. Too late now though, he’d just have to do whatever he could to save everyone else that he could. … Which would undoubtedly mean he’d have to eventually face the decision of killing himself to reset things. Not a thing he was looking forward so he could only hope it wouldn’t happen soon. But of course it did.

The scientist screamed as the giant worm-like alien burst through the window to impale him with its sharp beak like protrusion. He kept screaming, his voice gurgling and wet, as it dragged him across the floor and out the window. It finally stopped a few moments later, leaving Gordon in a heavy silence as he stared at the trail of blood, leading to the broken window.

He took a couple steps forward and peeked out. There were three of them and they were huge. Or perhaps it was just one being with multiple appendages. Even after the horror he’d just seen it commit, it was still awe-inspiring. Alien life was likely just a complex and varied as that of Earth’s. Biology wasn’t Gordon’s passion or expertise but he still had an interest in it, enough to make him wish studying these beings were an option. … Especially since that would mean they wouldn’t be killing people because now he had to make a choice.

Continue forward and if he happened to die and come back at time to allow him to save the fellow he’d just watched die horribly or kill himself now and save him for sure. Not a comfortable choice. He didn’t even know the guy, this wasn’t the part of Black Mesa he worked in. But if he had the the power to help, he was morally obligated to, right? He certainly would’ve if he’d known it was an option back when he failed to save people he did know.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out back stepped to where the alien creature couldn’t easily reach him through the window. That had looked a painful way to die, he had no wish to experience it. Instead he pulled out his pistol and placed it to his the side of his head. It was cold against his flesh, held steady only by how firmly he pressed it there. It would be okay though, he’d already died and come back four times, a fifth wouldn’t be too bad and this should be a much quicker death, maybe even painless. He would never be able live with himself if he had the power to prevent people’s death but refused because he was frightened.

If he had to do it though, it’d be really damn nice if he could send himself all the way back to the start though. Even if that meant restarting this whole nightmare, it’d be worth it. But even if he hadn’t known of his power then, he did now, meaning he had to use it. So after taking a deep breath, he held it for a few seconds before pulling the trigger.

Sirens blared as lights flashed and sparked around him, making him feel dizzy and unwell. Pushing himself up and the back to his feet, he looked around. … He was in the test chamber again, right after all everything had gone wrong. Seems, his thought of wanting to go back had somehow brought him back here; he had some control over whatever this was.

A good thing, this was what he’d wanted. But also… he’d made it so far. Now he had to do all that again. Lying down for a nap first would’ve been great but he didn’t have time. Lives were at stack and depending on him. Also, he was bound to learn more about this power of his along the way. That was going to be interesting, though likely unpleasant as well, to say the least. So he squared his shoulders, shook himself off as best he could and marched out to begin the nightmare again. This time, he was going to save everyone he possibly could, even if that meant dying a dozen more times.

#Half life #gordon freeman

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leam1983 · 8 months

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Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League - Thoughts

TL;DR: it isn't particularly good. Save yourself some money, reinstall Arkham City, get yourself some fun for cheap - and pour one out for another studio lost to short-sightedness.

Verbal diarhrrea below.

Game studios aren't monoliths. They're giants with feet of clay.

Clay is brittle by default, so it follows that time wouldn't be favorable to something as complex as a game studio's structure. People leave, leads change, priorities shift, success lands you under the watchful eye of AAA developers with very specific success metrics - and increasingly - decisions come from top-down. What eventually started as "Let's honor the IP to the best of our ability" turns into "Let's wrangle the IP to fit the perceived needs of the market".

It wouldn't be that bad if the bean-counters had a decent sense of perspective. If Suicide Squad had been pitched as an alternate take or a deliberate departure heralding something more true-to-form, then I suspect the overall reception would've been kinder. It wasn't, though. Someone, somewhere at WB Games clearly thought that what the Arkhamverse needed after the open-ended epilogue of Arkham Knight was Harley Quinn busting a cap in Batman's ass - permanently.

Back in 2022, Sefton Hill and Jaimie Walker left the studio they'd created, citing internal conflicts. That should've been enough to signal to the market that Rocksteady was changing, going from a story-focused developed to another Live Service provider with some truly baffling design choices for their ongoing content. Kill the Justice League isn't quite as bad as Redfall - it's at least mechanically functional and properly optimized - but it sacrifices everything that played to Rocksteady's strengths for a me-too design structure - and a complete miss of the better, more effective ways to leverage Amada Waller's volatile little quartet.

I'm reminded of Volition Studios, for instance, and of Saints Row - especially in the later entries. Cheerfully antisocial behavior is the name of the game, here, and you're expected to laugh at characters designed from the ground up to be comedically brutal, but the structure gives them all the same basic move set with only traversal-related perks that distinguish them. You're supposed to laugh at flashy mass-murderers, and all that offers them a clear sense of personality is kept to cutscenes - as everything else is obviously server-based. Mechanically, it's simply and fundamentally unimpressive. Not bad by any stretch of the imagination - but bland.

Of course, the central pitch was always going to be controversial: Brainiac's taken Metropolis hostage and has hijacked the Justice League's members to use them as his frontline henchmen, and Waller's band of repropbates are implausibly the only ones tough enough to not only reach the city, but stop the alien's aggressive attempt at conversion. If you're familiar with Brainiac, his whole schtick involves the destruction of his own home planet, Colu, and his relentless attempts to terraform Earth into a facsimile of his lost home. Mental control is part of his usual repertoire, and so he manages to outplay even the team's terminal paranoid - Batman, natch - and leaves only a frazzled Wonder Woman and an embattled Flash to try and oppose him. Story events unfold that make it clear neither of them are going to be of much help, and so you're left with Arkhamverse regulars twisting their celebrated roles to fit the tone.

On that aspect, the game is far too eager to leverage the late Kevin Conroy's acting range in his last turn as the Dark Knight. Obviously, Bruce Wayne with his brain thrown out of whack by an alien turns into an impulsive, controlling and vindictive sociopath - enough to make even Harley Quinn pocket her smart-assery for the occasion, and you're left with a would-be nerve-wracking inversion on the premise that, well, the Batman doesn't kill anyone. Being briefly hunted down the way you, yourself hunted down Quinn and the Joker's goons in the first two Arkham games feels novel, and the second go-around against Batman has you try and find ways to counter the Bat's usual strategy of casting an area of engagement in shadows. The problem is that this is as novel as Suicide Squad ever gets. There's something fun to hearing Conroy really chew the scenery as Evil Batman - but it's always in the understanding that for most people, this is more or less a cardinal sin.

I mean, it's not like it's the first time that we've heard or seen members of the Justice League flip their banners, practically every decade comes with a limited series from DC Comics where someone wants to explore that were to happen if one of the company's tentpoles effectively snapped. The best one in my opinion would have to be Batman: Metal, where the series leverages its obsession on parallel Earths to show us a world where the Bat makes Joker come across as sane. The Batman Who Laughs was a smart inversion of the character - but it wasn't permanent. As far as the Arkhamverse is concerned, for now - it's curtains for Bruce Wayne. It feels like an attempt at an inspired twist, but it also feels like an attempt at a twist offered up by one of those bean-counters I mentioned above.

So the tone fails, the structure's a letdown - and the UI is a complete and utter mess. Previous games in the series kept their info sparse, effective and timely, whereas SSKtJL feels obligated to take the worst aspects out of the Live Service trend and put them front-and-center. Attacks result in a barrage of crit indicators, meaningless numbers, flashes, counter indicators - and all of it is lost in the glow of tracer rounds, erratic enemy movement - and the apparent need to oppose the earlier games' methodic approach to movement with every Streamer-obsessed kid's need for relentless, arcadey and twitch-based combat.

When the first screen that comes up after pressing Play is Steam urging you to use a controller to play a PC open-world title, you know something's wrong. And speaking of open worlds - there's nothing there! Metropolis' ruined expanse has no purpose other than to funnel players from Point A to Point B, there aren't any collectibles, no reasons to explore - and progression is wholly and completely focused on combat.

The overall impression I'm getting circles back to my opinion on some games being designed by executives. Previous titles wanted you to explore Gotham or Arkham, to assess the environment's character, to figure out your place in it and to carve it for yourself using precise and methodical means. They were made with the idea that you'd care, and that you'd spend months lost in this particular Batman's Gothic and moody realm. Now? Now, you're going to see all there is to see in a handful of hours, and then the execs are going to drum their plans, as if the efforts to turn Shadow of War's late-game loop into a persistent affair hadn't turned out to be a failure.

You see, you can't just wipe the floor with Brainiac and wipe your hands clean of it all. Nope; you have to do it thirteen times to effectively kill the Justice League. That means grinding the same zones over and over, and exposes just how little content there really is. They want you hooked, because up until recently, Actiblizz had its hands on a winner with Destiny 2. That makes WB Games see dollar signs.

So, you're left with a sign of things to come, really - and the impression that if you were one of those that braved the controversies and played Hogwarts Legacy, you can expect the sequel to tout the same end-game mechanic to further legitimize the first game's use of player levels and item rarity levels.

As far as WB Games is concerned, apparently, if it ain't a Live Service, it's not worth it. Tell that to the people at Bungie who were recently laid off, or to the people quietly let go from Halo Infinite's design treadmill.

Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League fails primarily because it was designed not by passionate fans, but by trend-chasers. The fans left Rocksteady in little bursts after Hill and Walker's departure.

It's a garishly painted-up corpse presented to you with the expectation that you'll only really get it if you lower your expectations at the absolute bare minimum and accept that you'll have to grind your way to a complete storyline.

I'm not usually one for hyperbolic statements, but the real victims here aren't the Justice League - some other idiot with a pen and a Marketing degree could figure out they'd better resurrect Conroy's Batman and the rest of the gang for the next go-round.

The real victims are Rocksteady themselves.

#Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League #gaming #thoughts #Rocksteady Studios #Harley Quinn #King Shark #Deadshot #Captain Boomerang #Floyd Lawton #Amanda Waller #DC Comics #Batman #Superman #Wonder Woman #The Flash #Green Lantern

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