#cap writes

[thecapisin]

May I present to the superman death community, nuclear semiotics

Something happens right. Some major disaster involving Superman, it’s only a matter of time before something like this happens. Doesn’t matter what it is, it could be big or small, depends on what “major” means, but what matters is that it happens. And nobody can change it. The world leaders were all suspicious of him already, he’s not from here, he’s dangerous, what if Something Happens? Maybe some of them hope something will happen. They wait for him to slip up and Something does happen because Superman is super and all but he’s not perfect. It doesn’t matter if he makes a mistake, what matters is that they decide, he’s gotta go.

Superman doesn’t get a say, but he understands where their minds are at and he doesn’t fight their decision. It’s a hard one to make and still, some people are on the fence about it. He’s done so much for humanity, isn’t there a chance that maybe he made a mistake? Does one bad thing cancel out all the good?

But Superman tries to ease them and their worries. It’s okay, he’s proven he’s too dangerous to be kept alive. He’s done so much good, but he has the capacity to cause destruction on an incomprehensible scale, it’s not worth it to keep him alive. The world can learn by example, the good he’s done, and do it to others without him having to carry the world on his shoulders. It’s not right to have an entire species rely on him anyway.

So for the greater good, they kill him. (Not before studying him though. They study all of him, map him inside and out before they put him out of his misery.) That’s what was always going to happen, and it’s easy, because the best minds on Earth already thought up a thousand ways to go about this very thing. But he’s as dangerous as he was when he was alive. Thousands of years in the future he’ll still be dangerous and they need to come up with a way to warn the future generations of this thing. Of what, specifically? He’s not made of Kryptonite, and so far, studies show that Kryptonite has little to no effect on the human body. It doesn’t matter. Studies can be wrong, and if not the Kryptonite, then his body. Something about Kryptonian biology and how his body breaks down. If not that, then his values. What he stands for. It doesn’t matter. If enough people say it’s dangerous, that’s what it is. It doesn’t matter.

They purge the media of anything that portrays him in a positive light, it’ll be easier for the future if they manipulate the narrative now. The good that he’s done… that’s good and all, but what he did was unforgivable, that takes precedent over everything else, or so says the ones in charge. They turn his symbol of hope into a symbol of fear, it gets slapped on the container of every piece of Kryptonite that gets found, on the entrances to his gravesite, deep beneath the Earth somewhere so far away from civilization that it’s impossible to happen across it. Back in civilization, there’s outrage, rumors of conspiracy, how can that big blue boy scout be the monster that everyone is suddenly saying he is? Where’d he go, anyway? People can speculate all they want, but when theory is relegated to forums and conversation starters, how is it not possible to believe what seemingly everyone (whose opinions matter) is saying?

Eventually, word gets out that Superman was killed. No, he died. It was for the best, and the media agrees, and the people of Earth aren’t a monolith but maybe they should agree too. It’s easier than the alternative. And secretly, some people do regret what they did. The people who speak out disappear, but people still think. His executioners, those still alive, are kept up at night. Does he deserve all of this based on a “what if?” What’s done is done, and they all have to live with the consequences of their actions. Looking back on what he did, it… really wasn’t much of anything at all. It was most likely a mistake, but did it warrant this? A forest of jagged spikes in the middle of nowhere, messages translated into every written language warning untimely visitors of the dangers to be found if they venture further, telling them that, this place is not a place of honor, that no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here, that nothing valued is here. Is this really what Superman deserved?

[sunshinechay]

Team didn’t think heartbreak could hurt this badly. After all this time, he finally, finally found the courage to ask a question. Maybe not the THE question, but a question that has been burning up inside of him for weeks:

Are they both still benefitting from this? Does Win still want to be with him? Want to be his boyfriend?

Team is already so confused. He is confused about what to do, what to say, how to act. How should he move forward having finally admitted to himself (and Pharm and Manaow) that he loves Hia Win?

He doesn’t know, so do he does the only thing he can do. Answers no when Dean asks if he has a boyfriend. Doesn’t try to trap Hia Win into a situation he can’t get out of by answering in the affirmative. Dean knows they’re having sex and by saying he has a boyfriend, that’s causing trouble for Hia Win that he did not ask for and doesn’t want.

Don’t put yourself in a place where you aren’t sure you belong. Don’t assume that just because we’re “having fun together” that it means something to him when you don’t know it does. Remember the conversation Hia had with his friends that you overheard? He likes the way things are now. Well that was weeks ago, maybe things have changed? Morely likely they haven’t. Hia doesn’t love you, Team, stop trying to put words in his mouth and feelings in his heart that aren’t there and that you have no right to believe are there.

But if Hia Win doesn’t love him, why ask Team not to be afraid of his feelings for him? Is Hia Win admitting that while he doesn’t feel nothing, he doesn’t feel love? That Team has nothing to worry about because Hia Win isn’t going to develop feelings for him? If that’s true, can Team keep going with this strange relationship they have? Knowing that if it hurts to be with him now, it’ll probably get a whole lot worse in the future when Hia Win eventually does want to end it with him. Because that is definitely going to happen right? Eventually Hia Win is going to going to be the one to get bored and break up with Team right? And Team knows he won’t survive that, at least not with his everything in tacked.

Team can’t bring himself to think about the other option, the one everyone else already knows to be true. That Hia Win is so gone for Team that he’ll do anything for him. Because why would he? Team is nothing. Team is just a boy who killed his best friend because he was young and stupid. He just a boy who has no experience in love or affection or dating. He’s just a boy who doesn’t deserve those things anyway so why put in the effort to have them? Hia Win has to have realized this already and if he hasn’t, he’s going to realize it one day. Team isn’t going survive it, but at least if he asks now, he’ll have the answer, maybe he can prepare himself for that day, even if that day is today.

Then Hia Win hesitates. He hesitates because he is a good person, who doesn’t want to hurt Team no matter what. Hia Win cares about him enough to want to let him down easy. Cares about him enough to want to do things for him that Team keeps confusing for love.

Does that really count for anything Team? He’s a good enough person that he’d do this for any one he’s having fun with and doesn’t want to hurt when it’s coming to an end. He doesn’t have to feel anything romantic for you to not want to hurt you. All it does it prove what you already know. He’s a good man, and he doesn’t want to hurt you anymore than he has too so you’ll realize that you’re overstepping. That you’re asking for too much.

That hesitating is enough for Team. It’s enough to confirm the worst for him. That Hia Win doesn’t care for him that way. That he never will and he is trying to reassure Team that it won’t happen. They are just having fun and that Team was right to say he doesn’t have a boyfriend because he doesn’t. He has a sex friend and that is not the same. It’ll never be the same and Team needs to grow up and understand that quickly or he’s going to end up more hurt and more crushed and more alone than he is right now.

Team knows that he doesn’t deserve love, but to have Hia Win put it on stark display for him is too much. Hia Win knows exactly what is happening too and he is crying because he knows he has to be the one to do this. To hurt Team even though he has gone out of his way to try and prevent that from happening. Hia Win has shown him every step of the way that he is not in love with Team and yet Team still blew past all of the warnings, all of the signs and signals Hia Win has put out.

No, stop, don’t go any further. Don’t fall in love. That isn’t what this is, turn back now. Team I’m being serious, that’s not what this is. I’m just having fun. I just want to be a good friend and mentor to you outside of our physical relationship. Romantic love isn’t what I’m asking for and it’s not what I want. I don’t feel the same way. You’re only going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this.

Team has to get out, he has to go somewhere where Hia isn’t. Needs to think, needs to grow up and get his head on straight so he can come back and apologize for his words and actions. Apologize for making things awkward and tell him that he doesn’t know why he asked. It just felt important at the time, but don’t worry Hia. Team can deal with his own feelings and he isn’t going to burden Hia any further by dumping this on him. Hia doesn’t deserve that, he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with Team’s traumas or his feelings and can they go back to what they were doing before please? Can they please forget that ever happened?

Team won’t survive the day that Hia realizes that he can’t stand the sight of Team anymore, but Team isn’t ready for that day to come yet. Maybe he can fool himself for a little while longer? Maybe he can’t make Hia love him, but at least he can have him for a little while longer. Maybe Team will get lucky and Hia will want to stay with him, for now at least. Maybe he’ll get lucky and Hia will want to be with him, at least until he finds someone he can love. Team will prove what a good person he is by helping Hia when that happens, make sure Hia knows that Team supports him and wants what’s best for him. All Team can hope for now is that Hia will stay, for a little while longer.

Team knows that day will come, but he hopes (prays), it will take its time coming. He wants to have Hia for as long as he can have him. Maybe he’ll even get his own little miracle, and Hia will realize that he loves him, at least enough to want to stay forever, maybe.

No he won’t Team, don’t kid yourself.

[rubixkun]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Oh my god I actually wrote Naegiri.

With some Kazukibou elements in there. My fluff writing returns. Enjoy

[slimeyslimeyballsack]

Masterlist

Steve Rogers 

The Mix Up

Adrien Bravo finds herself in a sticky situation when she's kidnapped by mob boss Steve Rogers after being mistaken for a criminal with the same name.

His Muse

Y/N is tired of waiting around for Steve to get finished with his meetings, even if they have to do with the New York crime syndicates

Sweet As Apple Pie

Every day Steve comes into the diner and Y/N gives him a slice of apple pie

Abs Aren't Always the Answer

Steve asks Y/N what girls are interested in, trying to impress her. Several shirtless pics later it's not working.

_

ZOMBIES 

Perfection

After Zed signs up for testing on z-bands, he gets held at the site of the tests for several weeks. Even after everyone else stops visiting, Addison still does.

If You Only Knew, You’d Hate Me

Bucky and Zebediah had a fleeting interaction years ago and Zeb has been hung up on the boy ever since. Even with his arrogant and dismissive exterior, Zeb still tries to make a connection.

_

JATP

Proud

Nick's journey to self acceptance.

Bumble

Nick spends a lot of time in his garden

_

I take requests just drop into my ask box.

[oofiplier]

Guilt

Part 1 of ?

Triggers: abuse, major character death, death, guns, violence, blood

For future warning.

Sorry if this isnt what you were lookin for @im-here-for-power ! I'm combining some other requests as well

-----------------------------------------

Out of the new trio of egos that had arrived, none was more interesting than this new convict -- Yancy.

He was an expressive soul, with his pronounced New York accent and dramatic love for flair--one that could even rival Mark.

However, he was the up-and-coming enigma amongst the men. Even the conjoined spirit Dark was curious about why the man was a felon (aside from the murder of his parents) despite his cheerful exterior. It was something on all the egos minds. They knew it was something--and something bad--if Yancy  would hardly ever speak of it.

It wasn't these murders that seemed to trouble him, though. In fact, he often vocalized loudly about how awful his father was to him and how overprotective his mother was. When he heard something bad had happened, he related it to his father's absence and abuse, or to his mother's coddling and strict rules in their household. Surprisingly, he found a lot to relate to.

No, it was something much worse, something more recent, and something that he truly regretted.

It would be enough to send him over the edge if one of Wilford's guns were strewn about or if certain characters raised their voices a little too much. The boys had started to notice the man get anxious around the slightest sight of blood or even miniscule paper cuts.

If certain words were ever heard over radios, TVs, or seen in ads, Yancy retracted to his room and and wouldn't be seen for days on end. After a few, he'd come out with his common sly smile and a newly crafted musical number to get stuck in their heads. It was getting to the point that some couldn't go on without an explanation as to why.

It was time to get some answers.

________

One quiet evening, Yancy had retreated to the quiet of the theater in hopes to rehearse his new show-stopper. It was a solemn piece, however; not about being in prison, but about getting out. No one had heard it and not many cared to. Most respected the mysterious and sorrowful convict...

...But, the most curious of the bunch (Dark and Wilford, to be exact) decided peered in to hear what all this annoying moping was about.

Softly, Yancy hummed the melody he knew too well. It was what he sang to all the fresh bait that didn't know how swell prison life could be! Before he knew the real truth, that is.

Sitting with a pitiful slouch, he was shrouded in the shade of the stage curtains like a greaser Phantom of the Opera. His voice was broken and clear. It was haunting.

"You wanted me t' be free?

Now lyin' next t' me...

Once here, now youse is gone...

How could I try t' go on?

I just wanted us t' grow old...!

Now it's too late, my heart has been stole..."

His refrain didn't end, it trailed off into a flurry of soft tears down his cheeks. The sobs were quiet, but they spoke volumes. Whatever sparked this verse of his, it wasn't a pretty picture to delve into.

Yet, that's exactly what Dark was determined to do. Pure rage washed over the demon's face and radiated off of him in dangerous waves. "This is what he goes and cries about? Some random?" they growled. "I've had enough of this absurdity." They began to march in.

In an odd spike of sympathy, Wilford groped for the coat sleeve of their suit. "Oh, come now, Dark. The boy is clearly in some peculiar sort of mourning, therefore it might be in our benefit to leave?"

The spirit snarled at the thought and threw their seized arm back towards Yancy. "No. Since when have you backed down from a story, Will?"

Wilford shrugged and went back to his goofy sneaking stature. In any case, they were right. This explanation was too enticing to give up for the pair.

Without a word, Yancy was thrown up and out of his chair. He was scared and confused--this was all too familiar... His breath quickened and his eyes darted about the shadowy room. Two figures stood... Who were they? What did they hear? What did they know.

To some semblance of comfort, he recognized the faces and gave his best confident smile in return to the harsh gesture. "O-Oh..! Hiya, boys! Is, uh, somethin' the matter?"

Wilford obliviously cut in to answer. "Ah, dear boy, we're incredibly curious as to why you must go into these little spells of yours, that's all," He jovially chuckled to himself. Yancy slowly nodded in response as his attention turned from one... to the other.

Dark wasn't so cheerful. "I have had ENOUGH of this, Yancy. I cannot deal with these behaviors of yours any longer." They hastily tugged at the lapels of their suit (...It promotes dominance?) and inched slowly towards their anxious prey. With every sentence they grew closer. With every sentence, Yancy grew more fearful.

"Consistency. ...Participation! Bright and new concoctions toward. Our. CAUSE!" They raised their hand in a ragged and suspicious move--was it to strike? Slowly and calmly they brought it back down. Their shell was becoming increasingly unstable, even though the face would not show it. Even Wilford backed away, he knew how unpredictable this entity could be when it was angry.

They sighed lowly, deeply. "Yancy, that is what needs to be thought of here. I tend to expect that out of EVERY lost and pitiful soul that finds their way here to this sickly island of MISFITS!" The walls shook with their roars, and now they were a mere inch away from the shaking convict.

"Now," they sneered sonorously into his face, "when one of my misfits decides he'd rather trudge along his sad little way instead of participating in our group activities here, I tend to notice." Without losing the searing eye-contact with the prisoner, Dark gave a saccarhine simper. "Isn't that right, Wil?"

The mustached man nodded, quick not to show his cautiousness in the matter. "Entirely, Dark. Now, Yancy my boy, what are these ever-so riveting refrains of yours about? They certainly spark our fancies!"

Tears began to well up in Yancy's eyes as he shook his head. "I-I'm sorry, boys, I really am, but I can't do it." He chuckled with pain in his heart. "This ain't somethin' really needin' t' be shared with the class, y-ya know?"

Dark's eyes narrowed. "Try me."

[spearcast]

The empire has finally done it- with a final blow, the Great Wyvern of Thornsword has been felled. Its done in a confrontation on the plains, closer to the Hyperopian head city than to Thornsword. It’s a greater fight than those in the battle expected, and although their queen and her winged ally came to their aid, it seemed the Hyperopian army had prepared for that. 

Giving its last heaving breaths, Rhoswyn runs up beside the creature. It grunts lowly at her, seemingly thankful for her presence. In the growing turmoil around them the queen of the forests takes her hand and places it on the wyvern’s face, watching as it closes its great, golden eye. There is almost no time left for it. 

“Damedracha,” Rhoswyn whispers, slowly rubbing the smooth scales of the dying behemoth. “Thank you for your help, and your sacrifice. I am forever in your debt, and your sacrifice won’t be forgotten or in vain.” She goes to shut her eyes, to wait for the last moment, but the wyvern grumbles and snorts at her as if it were fine. She looks up, seeing the gold of the wyvern’s eye staring down at her. “What-”

From afar, the Hyperopian soldiers are closing in on the queen and the dead-dying creature. This moment of mourning, they’ve decided, will be her last moments. It will make them even more honorable in the eye of their rulers, and bring pride to their people. But as they circle in behind her, there’s something off. The wyvern seems to be whispering gently to the young woman, whose back is still to them. Neither seems to care that they’ve been placed into a trap that they cannot escape from. In seconds, the monster shudders and lets out a final wail before collapsing to the earth. The White Wyvern of Thornsword’s shoulders begin shaking, as if she’s sobbing. The perfect moment, forgetting the strange whispering. 

“Wretched burden, turn around! Today will be your end, by the hand of the Blind God-” but the soldier at hand was cut off, brutally, by a large vine of thorns going directly through the softer parts of his armor, near the stomach mainly. He immediately chokes up blood. 

“You all have set foot onto hollowed land,” the young woman speaks, still not turning to face them. Her voice sounds like a hundred, all layered over the other, like something ancient. It turns their blood cold. As she turns, they can see the suddenly golden gleam in her eyes; like cold, metallic golden coins, she stares at them without feeling. Or, with a feeling none of them can register. “One of the Old Ones has died at your hand. We have bestowed a new gift upon this soil, so beware your work and toil, for this gift will change the present you now understand.” With that, the Queen of Thornsword doubles over, clutching her chest and stomach. Rippling vines of thorns are bubbling up from the ground around her and the fallen wyvern; the Hyperopian soldiers start stumbling back, with their horseback-bound generals barking orders and calling for reinforcements. In a swirl of golden sparks, the wyvern begins disintegrating. Only its massive bones are left behind. That golden fire-dust begins funneling into Rhoswyn, now on her knees on the ground.  

Echardy, saddled upon Epona, spots the scene from a cliff above. His heart is racing, seeing his old friend on her knees and hearing her wails. He snaps the reins and Epona sets off, her six legs working overtime to get the pair down to where Rhoswyn is. However, he doesn’t quite make it there before he’s reeling backward. 

Rhoswyn looks up as one of the Hyperopian generals strikes Echardy off of Epona’s back with a spear. He tumbles to the ground, and it looks grim, and all of a sudden there’s a rage burning in her. Like no anger she’s felt before, like a fiery energy passed down from generations. She clenches her fists and knows what this means all at once. She lets the wildly growing thorn bush under her feet engulf her and the skeleton of the great wyvern.

The last thing Echardy thinks he’s going to see is this damned general looming over him, but he’s startled once by the fact that Epona returns to his side and rears back on her hind legs, her other four hooves flailing downward onto the general and the horse underneath of him with a fury unlike any other. The second time he’s startled not only startles him, but startles Epona, and startles every other being in the vicinity. Where Rhoswyn was crying out, where the last great wyvern met its end, now sits an enormous round bush of thorns that are taller than Echardy himself. And a great rumbling comes from the center of the brush, and in an eruption of sparks and fire and flames, a wyvern of equal size and mass to the one that was felled bursts from the bush. 

Its roar echoes across the plains, from the cliffs in Stormgard to the Luciermontes, probably all the way to the sheltered forest of Thornsword. And when it lands, it looks directly at Echardy with familiar brown eyes and scars across its face. 

Rhoswyn. 

Somehow, Echardy Drim realizes, she was gifted with ancient magic- one that only something as old as Damedracha could have bestowed. With that, Echardy snaps the spear in his shoulder as not to get caught on anything, and remounts Epona. She snorts fiercely as he draws his greatsword. 

This battle is not over yet. 

[leviebooks]

who wants to read the bokuhina ass eating polyamory fic i wrote for Hanji?? no one ok here u go

[oofiplier]

Guilt

Part 2 of ?

Triggers: abuse, major character death, death, guns, violence, blood

For future warning.

Tag list: @hell-or-high-waters , @oasisofgalaxies , @gemstone6

________________

There was disbelief in his voice. A small bit of hope, too. He gave a skeptical smile to this fresh bait he barely knew that wanted him to escape with them. "What, me? Out there? With you?"

A flash of hurt came across the freed person's face at the rejection. Yancy saw it. He just didn't think it could be true. Though some part of him, something in the back of his mind reminded him that maybe, just maybe, they wanted him to go.

He couldn't risk that, could he? It was insanity, he couldn't just leave. "I done a lot of bad things... And, well, this is home!" Did they believe that?

Did he?

"...for now, anyway." The two grew quiet for a moment. Yancy couldn't bear to look them in the eyes, though he desperately wanted to. He took a leap of faith. Under his breath, he muttered "Maybe when parole comes up I'll..."

The ex-prisoner's eyes gleamed with hope, anticipating a promise, a simple 'maybe'. Their name was Y/N, right? That's a nice name. "...maybe I'll give it a shot."

Y/N wasn't gonna show how disappointed they were, Yancy didn't need that. A 'maybe' was okay right now.

Yancy wanted to leave. Not leave them, but just...leave. The warden would be looking for him anyway, right? "Hey, I gotta get back to it.." He began to back away, leaving Y/N to stare at that stupid box he risked to get for them. The warden was probably looking for that box...

"Visitation, every third Sunday!" With that, he sprinted for the way back in, leaving the free person to search frantically, but to no avail. He was nowhere to be found, and rightly so.

He didn't know if they left. But he was gone. Slumped against a wall of the prison, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his sleeve and lit one up. Smoking wasn't something he usually did, especially with the Warden's rules against it, but it took the edge off. And right now, the edge was sharp enough to shank with.

"Why’d youse do that, Yance?” He thought to himself. "Youse don't even know the individual. There's no way theys comin' back. No way, no how."

He took a long drag from his cigarette and watched the puff of smoke drift off into the starry night. Tears formed in his blackened eyes, and not just from the smoke.

"They ain't."

_______________

You'd already made up your mind. Yancy may have disappeared from your line of sight, but he was seared into your brain now. He gave you something, though: an opportunity. You were going to be here that Sunday, no matter what.

Wherever he went, you hoped he was okay at least. You stared at that stupid, stupid box of Mark's that he risked to get you. Why would he do that? Why should he care? The guards here weren't as friendly as they seemed, you knew this. What would they do to him if they realized that not only did Yancy help you escape, but that he stole back what got you there in the first place? You didn't want to think about it.

Opening the box, something slid out onto your hand. It was cold and smooth. It was a key with a note attached!

"This skeleton key can open ANY lock ever made."

It seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, and it gave you hope. "I'm getting him out," you thought, "when he wants to. I'll wait."

_______________

Back inside, your worst fears were coming true. Yancy had successfully gotten back into his solitary cell, but maybe too late.

Ever so quietly, he slid into the scratchy thin sheets they so generously gave to the prisoners that made their way here and gave a breathy sigh. He made it back, but at what cost? What this stranger was doing to his brain!

He thought he was clear and began to doze off, but suddenly the stomp of boots came rolling up to the prison bars.

"Oh, Yancy! I see you're awake, son!"

Yancy shot up in his bed, afraid to move any further. A nervous smile seeped into his expression as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cell. "M-Mister Warden! It's real good to see youse, ya know?" A guard let the mountainous man into the cell. He only looked at the ground, a facetious grin plastered on his face. Tentatively, Yancy dared to ask: "I-Is solitary over?"

The Warden met the eye contact of his shaking prisoner and simpered. "Well, Yancy, that's what I'd like to speak to you about." He dragged a dirty metal chair from the corner of the cell and dusted it off before plopping down in it. "Son, you weren't outside this here cell any tonight, were you?"

Yancy shook his head vigorously. "N-No, Mister Warden, sirs. I was just in here, sleepin'! Youse know how comfy these pillows are!" He patted his thin pad of fabric behind him and smiled for the cameras. "This here? This is luxury!"

The warden chuckled to himself. "That's mighty good, Yancy. Mighty good. But you haven't seen that newcomer anywhere, have you? I'd like to find them and have a chat, good and proper!"

Caught between a sharp rock and a hard place. Yancy shook his head again and looked at his hands. "No, Mister Warden. I ain't seen 'em. Maybe theys hangin' with the boys?"

"Well, that's funny, the "boys" said they were with you, son!" He inched closer to the man, who desperately tried to back away, a fading smile still on his face. "Where are they, Yancy?"

"I's tellin' youse, I ain't got a clue! I's been in here, nowhere else!" He raised his arms in surrender and tensed for the worst. The warden only backed away and dusted himself off.

"Fine then. That's real fine. I hope you won't mind, say, a week in here? Seein' as the only friend you had in this forsaken place took off without you, maybe you should have taken them up on that offer."

The warden stomped out of the cell and let the guards lock it back tightly. "Yancy, you have a nice night, son."