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himboarcher · 3 years

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reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad.#but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go.#long post

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

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Terra-Man

I created a section for Superman Rogues in my Superman masterpost so I feel obligated to actually write about a character for there. But I don’t really want to dive into the nuances of Lex or any of the big guns just yet, so how about we talk about a guy most people don’t even know exists?

Terra-Man friends! The Pre-Crisis version was created by Cary Bates, Curt Swan, and Dick Dillin. Based on Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name”, he was a child of the old American Wild West, with his father killed by an alien. Young Tobias Manning was then adopted by said alien out of guilt. The alien took Tobias with him out into the cosmos, trained him, and crafted high tech weaponry for him that resembled weapons used by 19th century cowboys. He was also gifted with slowed aging that gave him nigh-immortality. Tobias killed his alien guardian and struck out on his own as an interstellar criminal, taking the name “Terra-Man” to homage his Earth roots. His Pre-Crisis fights with Superman varied between him being treated as a bizarre gag villain and a deadly serious threat.

Spoilers: The guy who ages up Superman is Tobias. He actually comes across as a legitimate threat in the story, using preptime to outwit Clark repeatedly:

And it was the first time I had read a story with Terra-Man in it that made me go “this guy could be a legitimate threat”. Of course Bates had more creativity in his pinkie than a lot of creators produce in their entire careers, and the Post-Crisis revamp of Terra-Man really sucked:

They got rid of his cowboy hat (a creative felony if I ever saw one), and revamped him as a businessman who had a crisis of conscience over the environmental damage he was causing, and thus set out on a crusade to protect the environment. They kept the high tech weaponry, and gave a lot of it an ecological spin, he had gadgets that allowed him to drain Superman’s solar levels to make him susceptible to weaponry, but the background motivation has aged poorly. Given the current environmental state of the world, more people would probably cheer this version of Tobias on as a hero (just look at Green Arrow or the Poison Ivy fans!) than want to see Superman beat him up. Also he still talked like an old school cowboy for some bizarre reason? Or maybe that was just how writers thought every Texan talked.

Anyway he ended up getting ripped in half by Black Adam and basically has been gone ever since as far as I’m aware:

So he’s been absent for two whole reboots now, New 52 & Rebirth, so I feel entitled to give my idea for how to make him work as a Superman Rogue. First up: his design. None of the ones I posted above really worked for me, none of them look “cool”, and if Venom and Carnage have taught us anything it’s that 90% of why some villains stick around is that they look cool. The Pre-Crisis one is too plain looking, he looks generic, the Post-Crisis look lacks a hat and the cowboy theme and is thus unacceptable. Luckily there’s already two very cool looking sources to draw on for a new design:

Guy front and center is Terra-Man from the Legion of Superheroes cartoon, and my first introduction to the character. His backstory was heavily modified for the show, but he was a stone cold badass, forcing Imperiex and Superman X to team up to beat him. Think Cad Bane from The Clone Wars by way of Terminator and you basically get the gist. I honestly wouldn’t mind just straight up taking that design and adding the mustache of the comic version. But there’s another source to draw from:

How the hell this guy never caught on I’ll never know. Maybe because Morrison never gave him enough badass moments during their Action run? But Nimrod has a very cool design, and he also has some crazy weapons like a gun that shoots telepathic bullets, he already feels somewhat like a Terra-Man revamp to me. I’d take the idea of a helmet/full body suit and the crazy high-concept tech weapons from Nimrod & Pre-Crisis Terra-Man, and combine it with the color scheme, basic outfit and hat of the animated Terra-Man. That would be a really cool design that would get people interested in Tobias I feel.

Second off: the name. Maybe I was just dumb as a kid, but I was always wondering why animated Terra-Man never used his earthbender powers. He clearly had them, why else would he call himself Terra-Man and not Space Cowboy? In the interest of retroactively justifying my young self’s stupidity, I propose a new name: The Terran. I think that does a better job of conveying what his deal is, that he’s a former resident of Earth aka Terra who has gone out and made a name for himself in the cosmos. Think of the children who will no longer be confused about why he’s not throwing boulders at his foes. I rest my case.

Third and finally: The motivation. Why does this guy show up on Earth? What’s his deal? Why does he hate Superman? Well I think there’s some easy justification in explaining why he would finally return to Earth in the first place by making him a hunter like Nimrod was. Terran is out to hunt the most dangerous creatures of a species for sport and profit. Guess who has an Intergalactic Zoo in his Fortress, containing last members of extinct species some of whom posses hides or organs that would fetch high prices on the galactic black market? That’s an easy way to justify why the two would first come to blows, and where the root of the contempt for each other would begin.

But that would only be the beginning. See there’s some very interesting twists on the Superman concept with Tobias. He inverts a lot of the core components of Superman. He’s a human who was abducted and adopted by aliens as a child. He got his “powers” from his alien father, and his “name” from the aliens he worked for and killed. He’s a human straight out of Earth’s past, a literal Man of Yesterday. I think you could do some very interesting stuff by contrasting the two, and one of the big ways to do it would be to make Tobias Manning gay.

Yeah yeah get your jokes out of the way but hear me out: Tobias is from 19th century America, not exactly known for it’s tolerance of homosexuality (or anything non-WASP really). Part of why Tobas stayed away for so long then was that he felt alienated from his home planet. He thought he would never be accepted there, and thus stayed away and tried to carve out a life for himself in space where at least no one looked down on him for who he loved. So when he finally comes back and sees the way things have improved he’s overjoyed. Finally he can be himself among his own kind, he doesn’t have to stay away from Earth anymore, he can stay here and reconnect with his heritage. But then he runs into another barrier: He was raised according to 19th century American norms as a kid, then by alien norms for the rest of his life. He has zero in common with regular humans in the 21st century DCU Earth. His speech is antiquated and peppered with alien words no one understands, marking him as odd. Nobody shares any of his interests, and his job, which would’ve been cool and badass in the 19th century, now invites disgust in everyday conversations. Tobias may have been a human born on Earth, but he was born in the Wild West and raised in space, and he’s become totally alienated from the rest of humanity.

Enter Superman, an alien born on another planet but perfectly able to live amongst humanity since he was raised by them and educated in their modern standards. He’s white-passing and straight, and those two attributes help him be accepted. It would absolutely piss Tobias off that this alien is viewed as more human than he is, is accepted where he is not, and that would fuel the fires of resentment. So when he and Clark cross paths, Tobias is out for blood. Not just to beat/kill Superman, but to embarrass him, humiliate him, make him the outcast for everyone to point and gawk at. Also killing one of the last Kryptonians would really help cement Tobias’ reputation as a stone cold badass hunter which doesn’t hurt either.

On Superman’s side, part of him would absolutely despise Tobias for being a poacher, for hunting and killing endangered species, for trying to kill or humiliate him. He’d be put off by Tobias’ 19th century ideal of manhood and enjoyment of killing, something Superman wholeheartedly abhors. But on the other hand he would absolutely empathize with Tobias’ frustration. Clark has felt alienated from humanity at points himself, but also recognizes that he was lucky to look and be like he does given where he landed. He’d want to try to reach this guy, to connect with him, given how much he can sympathize with the longing for a place where you can be yourself without fearing rejection from others. Whether he would ever succeed is anyone’s guess.

I realize the possible pitfalls in making a prominent villain, who is also a cowboy gay, but I do think what I have here is an interesting way at looking at the very concept of “alieness”, a topic often explored in Superman stories. I’d add a prominent gay member to Superman’s supporting cast as a counterbalance too, either to the Daily Planet or the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit.

So yeah that’s how I’d revamp Tobias into the Terran.

#superman #dc comics #terra-man #revamp

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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I want to tell you... (Part 10.)

Description: Nathan Drake is not the exact definition of an unhappy man. His job is steady, his friends still see him from time to time, he plays football, but his marriage is his main problem. Many things will change when a special person comes to his life.

Part Summary: Everything was slowly going off rails again for both you and Nate. But at the same time, you decided there’s something lingering in the air, which you should ignore.

A/N: We’ll be slowly falling down to the pit of bad news here. Anyway, if you’d feel as if you are trapped in a toxic relationship you’re not happy in, please, don’t let that to yourself. Try talking to your friends, family of professors/co-workers. Loneliness, cheating, fear and depression isn’t fun to deal with. And I’m speaking out of personal experience. You’re not alone.

Word counter: 4.9 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @peakymarvels, @nemodoren, @flavorishy, @decadentwinnerjudgedream

Series master list: H E R E

Nathan’s car sing-along playlist: H E R E

When you came home, the whole flat was still silent and dark. Mike was still at work, so you had a lot of time to just sit down on the couch and to think about the wild things Nathan had outlined. And when your boyfriend finally came home, after an hour of you sitting in front of a TV playing some rom-com. The man walked over to you and tried to lean down, kissing you on your forehead - and being the mad little bean you were, you moved away from him.

"Hey, come on." - The man put his bag next to the couch, sighing loudly when he realized that he's probably in trouble. Slowly, Mike sat beside you, leaning his elbow into the back of the couch, moving closer to you. - "I was working, I swear." - He leaned closer to you, kissing the crook your neck gently while smoothing your thigh up and down. - "And I had you on my mind all day, baby, trust me. I want you. I want you so fucking much now." - The man leaned closer and started to get more heated up than just a moment ago.

Maybe he was working? He was at the new workplace just for a month, he wouldn't have time to start some kind of a relationship, right? That would be too soon. Too bold of him when you still didn't quite trust him with keeping his dick inside his briefs. No. He surely wasn't cheating on you - and this thought sold you into leaning into the touch, kissing him back with equal passion. And with that, the last thought about Nathan and Sully being a part of a gang flew out of the window.

But not for long - the next few days, you've spent with buying you some textbooks and reference materials for your college, which you were about to start in October, you looked around for a few more decorations to put into your flat and overall, you tried to fight the loneliness on your own again. Why? Mike was constantly at work. Sure, you were aware that Mike is a workaholic, but it did rose your eyebrows that he is at every single day, working overtime so early after your new start.

Your boyfriend dismissed you with a small smile every single time. He told you that you have nothing to be worried about because he was just trying to impress his bosses so his payment would be raised quickly. And this time, you decided to believe him instead of jumping straight to conclusions - which proved to be right the last time nonetheless. But this time, you tried to keep your cool.

Which was proved quite difficult when Nate texted you about your schedule - he wanted to plan the hangout between his shifts so you would both have a lot of time to spend together. You were free anytime he would ask you to come to see him, so the date was set on next Monday, because Nate had a shift on Sunday, preparing meals for some rich people party in their restaurant. He texted you the address where his flat was at and on Monday evening, you were standing there nervously and waited before Nate will run the stairs down to open up the door for you.

He and his wife chose a nice location to have their flat at. It was one of those locations where families with children live their day-to-day life. The apartments there were spacious and modern, they had a nice feeling to them. It was close to the beach and the sea, so Nathan could go rollerskating every time he wished to. And you had just one question - why was Nate and his friends very financially secure beyond believable. There was something iffy about this whole company. Nathan was just about to tell you.

"Hey, hey, come in. I've been waiting for you." - The man told you as he opened up the apartment building front door, inviting you inside. Honestly, you'd love to end up in a flat like that if you would be about to start a family. Even the halls and stairs were spacious. The whole building was feeling very safe. No-one who was a villain secretly would be living in such a building.

The true moment of dripping a jaw came when Nate had unlocked the door to their apartment, inviting you in. It was beautiful - there were souvenirs from all around the world, hand-knitted colorful carpets - you loved a small corner with two bean bags which was somehow inviting. And next to these two, there was a whole wall covered in dream catchers. The rest of the flat certainly had that warm, family-like feeling. It wasn't tiny in the slightest, every small inch of the apartment was inviting and lightheartedly vibing to you. There were photos of Elena and Nate everywhere, which was the first time you had ever seen her. She was a pretty blonde woman, smaller than Nate with big brown eyes and big smiles in each of the photos. You had to note that she was athletic, to say the least - you could ever catch a glimpse of her jogging t-shirts in the laundry basket.

She was hugging his waist and they... They were looking very happy. But one thing that hit your eyes was the fact that these photos were fairly old. Nate caught you staring at one of them and he chuckled, pointing at his with a small smile. - "That was our vacation three years back. We were in Europe, in smaller countries like Czechia, Slovakia, and Austria. It was very nice." - You nodded with your eyebrows slightly arched as you looked at Elena wearing a summer dress.

"She's looking happy and, honestly, she's beautiful. You're a great match." - You stated quietly, which made Nate grin funnily. Neither of you commented on his grin - you put some sweets you bought on the countertop. When you commented on your cooking, you weren't trying to be funny. There was a high probability that your food would poison him, which made you realize that you should buy at least some donuts for Nate to snack on and buy yourself some coffee while you were at it. - "But now, you promised me to tell me about the... Things you and your friends anticipate in. And if you won't make me believe that you're not a white meat trafficker, a gangster or a drug dealer, we're done." - You looked Nate in the eyes.

The man was aware of his friendship with you being put on a tight line at the moment. But at the same time, he knew he had enough proof to show you that he, indeed, is an archeologist - well, maybe not exactly the archeologist you knew from real life, but he liked to consider himself one. IN the end, he was extremely passionate about history and he could go on about it for hours and hours. Yeah. Nate was most probably an archeologist.

"Okay, so, sit down here and wait for me. I'll bring you some stuff to show you. Books, journals, maps, artifacts, everything." - The part about artifacts made you furrow and straighten up as you sat down on the couch. Why was he talking about maps and artifacts? Was he smuggling stuff over the borders? What the fuck was Nathan working on in his free time? But he threw you out of your train of thoughts pretty fast when he dropped a box full of stuff next to you. You freaked out and sighed, closing your eyes dramatically while Nate bent over to take out one of the first books he had there, sitting beside you.

"This my mom's journals, the ones Florence was talking about back at the dinner." - Nate went through the pages until he found the passage he was most fond of before putting it into your palms carefully as if it was a commodity of a high price. First, you didn't have an idea about what you were looking at, and when Nate sensed your cluelessness, he smirked and pointed at the name. - "Henry Avery was a big pirate back in the day. There was this huge heist around the 16th century for which he got famous. To tell you in modern slang, this guy was huge. And according to some theories, this man had established the pirate utopia of Libertalia. But that's just a theory at the moment." - Nate sighed and watched as you read random passaged from his mom's journals with a slight furrow, mouthing each word to yourself. Just when you wanted to give him the journal back, a photo fell out of it - and when you looked at it carefully, you realized you're looking and much younger Nate.

The guy next to you was around his early thirties and this boy was... Around thirteen? God, was this picture even real to start with? Nate leaned over your shoulder to grin at the visual documentation of what he was looking like.

"This is my brother. Sam. He's a great guy and he got me through a lot of stuff." - Nate pointed at the other guy in the picture. The boys weren't looking alike at all, but something was telling you that these two boys were related. While you were stuck at the picture, Nate laughed victoriously as he pulled another photo out of the box. It was hidden in a small, leatherback journal that had a small hole from a bullet on the front side.

"Won't you look at that." - The man smiled at the memories connected to the photo. You could see someone somewhat similar to Sully. And the man was looking very similar to what he was looking for when you first met him, so the photo was pretty recent. - "This one is like... Two years old. We were in this rainforest, searching for the lost city of gold. You know what I'm talking about?" - Nate wiggled his eyebrows and gave you the photo.

He was there along with Elena and Sully, each of them was dirty and visibly very tired. Elena, with a big smile of gold, was sitting on big old crates, thus being the center of the picture. Nate, with a shotgun, leaned to his shoulder, was on her right side, leaned to the boxes as well with messy hair. Sully was looking the finest, standing on her left side with a smug grin and a lit-up cigar. Sure, each of them was tired, but they were happy as hell for sure. They looked like a family.

"Why do you have a shotgun here, Nate?" - You asked with a small grin. - "But no, do tell, please." - You leaned your back into the couch and let Nate talk. He just talked about the lost city of El Dorado, sir Francis Drake, and Panama.

He spoke about Rafe, Nate, and Sam getting locked up in a Panamian prison for the sake of research and about Sam getting his ass imprisoned for a few because hurting one of the guards. Nathan told you the story about how they met again, finding a brother in one another again.

Nate showed you small trinkets with a lot of historical value he collected throughout the years of treasure hunting, telling you about each of them. There were numerous photos of him and his partners in crime, of a woman named Chloe and a man named Charlie and many photos of him and Elena on various excavation spots.

Sure, Nate didn't keep his inability to keep at least one of the historical spots intact, but he was still a skilled and smart archeologist nonetheless. Sully managed to get him some good and well-paid gigs. It turned out that Victor knew Florence for some time now because some of these gigs were mostly her doing.

The Drake couple had many photos where they looked so happy it made you smile as well. But, the more photos of them you saw and the more Nate told you about the history behind each of them, the more the whole situation didn't make sense.

What happened to them? Why weren't they together at these spots anymore? Why weren't there any more photos? But when Nate was so passionate about everything, you couldn't just ask him, could you? That would bring him more pain than necessary. And you, in any case, didn't want to stir up the dust once it settled for at least a while.

That afternoon, you managed to drift off to sleep while Nate was telling you at least the seventh story about some pirate or who. But the man didn't wake you up. Nate put a blanket over your chest, tugging you in as he got to the preparation of dinner for you.

It was almost eight p.m. when your phone started to ring. It was just buzzing, but Mike's photo was lighting all over the dining room. Which made Nate sick from his stomach.

The memory of the conversation you and Mike had back in the day suddenly tickled Nathan's memory. Was the boy cheating on you? At the moment? Or not? Should he pick up the phone and ask about the topic like a man could ask a man?

He could and should do that. He would do that if he had the balls at the moment. So he just picked up the vibrating device and shook your shoulder gently. That woke you up instantly. When you realized what's happening and who's calling, you sat straight and tried to get the sleepiness out of your head.

"Hey, hey, baby." - You mumbled sleepily and got your feet, pacing around the room at a fast pace. Your head was still dizzy, but you tried your best to concentrate on Mike's voice.

"Oh. Oh. Again? That's strange. Yeah. I get that. Sure. Love you. Bye." - There was this deep sigh when you ended the call, looking at the phone in your hand. Nate was just cooking the cheese sauce for your pasta. His blue eyes flickered at you standing there with an empty look in your face. But he chose not to talk until you'd like to talk.

"Listen. It's late. I should go home now." - You mumbled sleepily, having those dizzy moments of just woken up person.

"Woah. Not a chance." - Nate answered immediately, turning down the volume of heat under his cheese sauce.

"I don't think you're a psychopath or human trafficker by now, but you can't hold me here, Nathan." - An angry huff left your lips as you went for your jacket.

"I won't hold you here, I'm not a monster. The thing is that the city is dangerous after dusk. And I'm cooking dinner. So you'll have dinner, a glass of wine and then I'll drive you home. And that's not a topic for a debate." - Your friend pointed a finger at you and dried his palms in a cooking towel. Immediately, you straightened and widened your eyes, putting the jacket on the back of the chair. Nate licked his lips, steering the almost finished masterpiece.

This man didn't look like the type who would be a general, but when he started to act like one, dear Lord. For a moment, there was a glimpse of something hiding under the surface.

"He stayed there overtime again?" - Nathan asked when the sudden hint of anger disappeared into the thin air again. First, you put your lips together and bit them nervously, sitting down to the table. When you came in, you didn't notice that Nate has fresh flowers on the table, but there were daisies he had picked up earlier that very day. But in the end, you nodded. - "He's there tomorrow as well?" - "No, tomorrow Mike's at home, we have some plans." - "Oh."

The rest of the evening was quiet in its entirety. It was strange to feel the fear dragging you deeper and deeper back into your head. Why was all of this so known? So reminiscing? And it all fell the lowest when you watched Nate driving off back home.

Again, you were walking back home all alone and on your own. The flat was pitch black and empty. Quiet even though the music coming from the street. Weird even though you were the leading designer of it, even though you knew every small corner of the flat... It didn't feel comfortable inside. When you sat on your couch, you let the TV turned off. Tears were streaming down from your eyes as you tried to keep it in. You drank the last bottle of wine you had in your room. Woah. Why should you be home alone when your boyfriend was caught up in your work again? You didn't see any reason for that.

Mike was honestly jealous of you hanging out with Nathan as much as you did. But why were you around the man so much? Huh? Because you moved across the fucking state when his sorry ass started to cheat on you and got caught with it. Every member of your family was back in your hometown where you met Mike and fell in love with him. And Nathan was just as lonely as you were. He and his friends accepted you as their friend and wanted to hang out with you too, at least that was what you thought this is about. Fuck Michael. Fuck him.

When you were drunk enough, you did the biggest bullshit you possibly could do. You got on your feet and left to search through Mike's stuff. People who loved and believed each other never went through each other's stuff. Huh. Funny. You didn't trust him since the first time he told you he has to stay overtime at work again. Last time he used that excuse in your hometown, you set on your journey to bring him dinner. And he was fucking one of his colleagues on his desk, moaning her name through the whole floor.

Your mom told you to break the things off with Mike immediately... But... He was sorry for a long time, he kept saying sorry, again and again. Slowly, he made you sure that all he needs is another chance. As soon as you told Mike you're willing to give him the chance, he asked for transmission to a different branch of the company where he was working. And they told him they have a good place in one city. And he accepted immediately just for the sake of your relationship.

Yet there you were fucking again. You were going through his stuff - sniffed his clothes, looked at the collars of his shirts, through his pockets and all the shit like that. And you found a small piece of paper at which you almost started to laugh. - "Amy. Amy, you motherfucker? Okay." - You mouthed and started to cry again. Her number was there too just as the heart drawn above her name.

Since that day, you hang out with Nate almost every day. He took you almost everywhere - on hikes, to have an ice-cream, roller skating, swimming, he taught you how to cook and even went shopping for your school supplies with you one day. Florence seemingly very liked you. She loved it when you joined them for dinner, you were a fun companion to have at her home.

Sully, if he'd have to be honest, was at a weird phase around you. It was beautiful to see Nate relaxed and contained after all those years of him and Elena getting further and further away from each other mentally and emotionally, but he was very much afraid that Nate will fall in love with you. At that point, you were just Nate's crush. The man was fond of you, which could be felt with every interaction you had. But Nate couldn't forget about still being a legally married man. Sure, he and Elena had a weird idea of romantic, but this relationship still had a chance to be saved.

One time, you invited Nate over when Mike was on his way to Seattle. He was supposed to stay there for the following five days, it was one of his daily work trips. You hadn't told anyone about the Amy paper you found in the pocked of Mike's jeans. But you needed to talk with someone about that. Ever since no-one other than Nate was free at that time.

"I would like to tell you why we had moved in here. We're actually from somewhere way out of the way." - You told him as you sat in front of the opened window, listening to the blasting life under your window. Nate sniffed his wine and smiled at you, nodding so you'd know he's listening to you.

"I met Mike at one party where I sure as hell wasn't supposed to be. I was... Young and dumb at that time and why I sure am older, I am not any wiser. He was this popular, funny guy who the girls went after like crazy while I was this normal girl. Dear Lord did I fell in love with him that night. Neither of us drank, we just sat down into the grass in front of the house and talked like two normal people. Honestly, Mike charmed with his humor and remarks. After that, we started dating." - While bringing up these memories, you were smiling as Nate leaned in lower into the plush chair, listening to every sound coming out of you. Even these were hard to hear at times. The man was fully focused on you.

"Because he was so much older, it naturally caught a lot of attention. But time passed by, I was almost finished with my high school and Mike had this good position at some company. He was good at what he was doing, but I noticed he's there a lot more than he should be instead of being with me. I mean, I didn't expect him to be with me every single day, no, but... We used to go to the cinema, on dates, walks when we were both free and suddenly, this seemed to be somehow problematic for him. I couldn't understand what was going on." - This had Nate to listen even more than before as he watched you gulping down the whole glass of wine at once, immediately pouring yourself another one.

"As usual, one night, I got a call from Mike who was at work way longer than he should be. And I decided to bring him some food, which I shouldn't do." - You lowered your head, furrowing at the memory. No matter how much Nathan wanted to tell you that it's not your fault, he stayed silent and watched you trying to gather yourself. - "It's strange to see someone who... Proclaims are in love with you pulling in and out into someone you've never met, telling them how beautiful they are. I thought I lost him at the moment I saw all of that. Christ help me, I was devastated." - You nodded to yourself. - "And to have a fresh start, we moved here. A good job proposition and a promise of getting it back together was what made me sure of it. But... It seems to slowly get back into the old trails."

There was a prolonged moment of silence between you and Nathan, who was slowly drinking his wine. You were extremely vulnerable at the moment, and not only that. You were also noticeably unhappy, worried, and mentally tired from the situation you found yourself at. Nathan was the man to understand all of it. He knew what you were talking about just like he felt just like you. So he decided to tell you his story.

"I met Elena through this gig." - The man giggled into his glass of wine, putting it down to his lap to take a deep breath. - "It was just after my brother was put into the sentence in Panama. Sullivan and I didn't have much money to take off to the Panamanian coast and... We needed funding. And a hell of money. That was when I saw her show on TV. It was talking about architecture and stuff. I thought it was a great idea. We wrote a business e-mail, telling her about the Panama things, about Drake and inviting her on our treasure hunt if her company pays for everything. Holy crap, they paid for every small thing Sully and I could imagine." - Nathan smiled at the memory, making you smile back at him.

"At first, Elena was annoying the living shit out of me. I swear to God, there were times when I just wanted to leave her there, but to my luck, I never did. After this thing was over, we started dating. And it was working out for some time. Soon, I realized she's the one I want by my side no matter what. Naturally, I proposed to her and she accepted - we got married, moved to a flat, started our normal life together. And it was quite nice for the first few months. For the sake of our relationship, I decided not to take any more gigs - but one day, she came home with this light in her eyes, telling me 'Nate, you're not going to believe this'. She was offered a job proposition in Europe, which is a huge thing for a journalist. I didn't tell her not to go, it was just for three months and I knew that once this will be over, she'll come back home and it will be just us again." - Nate looked at you, gently scratching his earlobe. Your head was leaned into the back of the couch and you didn't leave Nate off your sigh even just for a second.

"But then, she came with the gig in Africa, then, there was Dubai and now... She's in Thailand. Hadn't seen her for the last four months and the calls aren't as frequent as I would like them to be... But that's how things are. Elena is living her best life and she's one of the best tourism journalists out there. Y/N, honestly, I'm very proud of her..." - "But you'd like her to be here with you now rather than having her gone off the radar all the time, huh?" - You whispered, slowly licking your lips. It was an indication that you understood what he was telling you. Both of your relationships were troubled in one way or another.

Your partners seemed to be far away from you - and the closer they got, the more the distance grew. Suddenly, Nate picked himself up from the couch and checked his watch, arching his eyebrows. - "It's late, I should get going now." - The man told you quietly, hoping you'd say that you want him to stay there with you. Even for a small moment longer. But awkwardly, you nodded and walked to the kitchen to pick his jacket up from the chair.

"You're right. We both better get some sleep. The cycling today got me good." - You joked, giving the jacket to Nathan. That was the moment when your fingers crossed on the piece of clothing, yet neither of you pulled your hand back. It was fairly obvious from the last couple of days that maybe, Nathan felt something more towards you than a friendly relationship. Ever since the start, you tried to play Drake off as a witty, funny friend of yours who was just sweet and caring more than the other guys.

Although, the more time you spent with the man, the man undismissible these heavy eye contacts, inviting smiles and body language started to get husky. Not to make the saint out of yourself, thinking about kissing the man flew through your head all of a sudden a few days back too when he took you out swimming on the beach. This man was a hunk. A real one, if you'd ever seen some. But you tried to ignore it for the sake of keeping it in the friendly boundaries.

How much more obvious and harder could Nathan make it for you? Probably a lot, because you felt the tips of his fingers gently bumping to your knuckles, smoothing your fingers with his. The man's breath hitched as he moved a small inch closer to you, straightening above you to look down on your face. For the first time, he saw something that wasn't there before. The insecurity. Whether it was about what was happening or about the vulnerable side of you, which you showed him just minutes prior, the sudden vulnerability and reluctant feeling were present in your face.

A kiss was sure an option at the moment. Nonetheless, Nathan stepped away and pulled his jacket out of your palm, deciding to keep his cool. - "The hiking tomorrow. You still up for it?" - The man asked to beat the uncomfortable silence which accumulated around you. With your cheeks on fire, you smiled at the man and nodded. - "And a glass of wine at your apartment. I will be looking forward to that." - You answered as he was leaving your flat.

But really, was there any point in looking forward to something that could both of you cost your relationships? Or was it just a dumb wish?

#nathan drake #nathan drake x reader #nate drake #nathan drake uncharted #uncharted #victor sullivan #victor sullivan x oc #elena fisher #elena fisher drake #samuel drake #for better or worse?#for better or worse

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 5 years

Text

wild things in the dark: chapter two

Chapter two is finally here! Basically this chapter is: some backstory, a gratuitous masturbation scene (everything explicit is under the cut!), and some exposition! If you like this, please consider commenting and/or reblogging!

Also on ao3! And a huge thank you to @auriette who beta read this chapter!

Bakugo had known he was ace ever since his first year of junior high.

Ever since he had first hit puberty, shortly after his twelfth birthday, he had known that he was somewhat different than the rest of the extras he had gone to school with. It had just taken him a while to figure out just how exactly he was different.

At first, he had simply thought it was just because he was more mature than most of his classmates. That in and of itself was nothing new, after all.

He had always been praised — by teachers, parents, and other students alike — for being so mature, so advanced. He was always at the top of the class with straight A's, was always the first to finish the books they were assigned to read, always the first to fully grasp new math or science concepts.

Throughout grade school, he had always been lauded for his initiative and dedication to his schoolwork. While most kids were more focused on just having fun and being kids, he had already been working towards his lifelong goal of becoming a Pro Hero.

Things hadn't changed much in junior high.

While all of Bakugo's so-called friends that only hung around him because his Quirk was strong had drooled all over themselves whenever a pretty girl so much as walked by, he was busy thinking about his application to UA in just a few years. When other guys were ogling Pro Heroes and talking about how hot they were, Bakugo was fantasizing about being one.

And yet, despite the vast difference between his interests and those of his friends, it had taken a few months before Bakugo finally realized there was a glaring discrepancy. It had taken another couple of weeks for him to realize that he was supposed to be acting like other guys his age.

He was supposed to be making googly eyes at pretty girls or drooling over cute boys. He was supposed to be acting like a lovesick dumbass thanks to his crazy, out of control hormones.

But he wasn't.

When he looked at other people, male or female or otherwise, he didn't think about them in a sexual way, no matter how aesthetically attractive they were. He never wanted to touch them or kiss them or do anything else like his friends always talked about.

He didn't care about how revealing or skin-tight Pro Heroes' costumes were like his friends did. Why would he when he could use the time and energy to doodle ideas for his own hero costume in the margins of his class notes?

He didn't give a shit about what girl was caught kissing what boy behind the bleachers during gym class. He was too busy absolutely destroying everyone else at dodgeball

He never had any interest in the dirty magazines his friends swiped from their older siblings, the ones they guarded like priceless treasure; never had any desire to watch porn no matter the genre. He just wasn't interested in any of that stuff.

Not that he really wanted to be.

He didn't understand the appeal of kissing or dating or sex, didn't understand what was so great about all of it. And he didn't have any plans to ever do any of it.

That wasn't to say he was repulsed by the idea of sex or physical attraction or intimacy. He was just indifferent to it.

He had more important things to worry about, anyway. Like becoming the number one hero.

But the way his friends reacted when he had told them as much would always haunt him. The memory of his confession was still seared into the back of his mind like a permanent stain he couldn't scrub out.

Because his friends, the ones he thought would accept him, had looked at him like he had just admitted to wanting to be a villain. Had stared at him with a mix of shock and confused disbelief. Because how could he not want to kiss anyone? Or just into bed with anyone? Or watch dirty movies or read nudie magazines or masturbate?

They had looked at him like he was some kind of freak. Like some weird degenerate they couldn't believe was hanging out with them.

So, panicking internally, he had just brushed it off as a joke and never mentioned it again. Not to his friends and definitely not to his parents.

They were already at their wit's end thanks to his literally explosive temper and proclivity for bullying other kids, they already thought of him as somewhat of a disappointment. His mom had never been shy about making that known.

That was bad enough. He didn't think he could handle it if they looked at him the same way his friends had. Like he was defective, broken, some weird twisted thing.

He was going to be the number one hero, All Might's successor, he couldn't be broken. He couldn't.

But he was.

So he tried. He tried not to be broken. Tried to be normal even though everything in him screamed at him not to be, his fiercely independent heart raging inside him like a caged phoenix, willing to burn itself to ash just to be free.

He did everything he could possibly think of in his endeavor to be normal. He looked at the dirty pictures of celebrities his friends sent him, watched porn online like his friends said they did, listened to the tawdry gossip of his classmates about parties and sex.

He did it all. And he hated himself for it.

He was supposed to be cool, was supposed to be above caring what other people thought about him. But just the idea that people were looking at him like he was some kind of freak, looking at him the same way he looked at fucking Deku, filled him with so much unease and anxiety it was hard to bear.

It wasn't until he had his first mandatory sex education class that he learned that he wasn't the only one who felt the way he did; that there was a name for it. A name for him. Asexual.

His teacher had explained that people who were asexual didn't experience sexual attraction. And that simple dictionary definition, though hardly groundbreaking, had felt like an epiphany to Bakugo.

He had listened intently as his teacher had continued on, explaining in more detail what asexuality was exactly. In the process, she described him almost to the letter; from his ability to still feel sexual arousal itself to his existing romantic orientation that was in no way influenced by his lack of sexual attraction.

In the days following, he had devoted a rather decent sizable chunk of time to thinking about the concept of asexuality. He had done a ton of his own research on the matter: reading nearly every online article, scholarly journal, blog post, and dictionary entry he could find; watched videos that either explained asexuality in more detail or provided personal anecdotes from asexual people.

Every little bit of new information just fueled the fire, stoking his conviction into a roaring inferno until he found himself lying in bed for hours mulling it over, mouthing the word 'asexual' to himself just to taste it on his tongue.

Eventually, he had worked his way up to spending an afternoon looking at his reflection in his bathroom mirror as he practiced saying, "I'm asexual", over and over and over again.

Every time he said it, without fail, it felt more and more right. Until it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn't feel like such a freak any longer. Not because of his sexuality, anyway.

Bolstered by the all-consuming feeling of rightness that came with acknowledging himself as an asexual, Bakugo had eagerly rushed downstairs to tell his parents. As much as he fought with them (well, with his mom) he wanted them to be as proud of his little realization as he was.

They had taken it rather well when he was five years old and proudly announced that he liked boys and only boys. Why should this be any different?

Similar to the first time he had come out to his parents, both of them were extremely supportive. In their own ways, of course.

His mom, pausing in the middle of a sip of wine during his announcement, had just accepted it with a nod. After finishing her sip, she had offered a simple, "Okay."

Meanwhile, Bakugo's dad, the incorrigible sap, had stood and pulled him into an awkward hug. Bakugo had been so overwhelmed with relief that he had actually hugged his dad back, burying his face in his dad's shoulder.

Since then, Bakugo had proudly embraced his identity as an asexual. If anyone had a problem with it, it was their fucking issue, not his.

The next time his friends had tried talking to him about something sexual and gross, leering at girls in their uniform skirts, Bakugo had completely shut them down. At their confused comments about him spoiling their fun, he had reminded them that he was asexual, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument while assuring them that if they said anything against it, he would kick their asses into next year.

After all, he thought it was rather fitting, him being ace. It was just another synonym for how fucking awesome he was.

He had lived his life with that mantra for years, never spending another second pretending to be something he wasn't by feigning interest in sex. Which is why things got infinitely more complicated when he hurried back to his room after hero training to jerk off while thinking about Kirishima.

He had never done anything like that before. He had never even considered it.

Yeah, sure, he masturbated from time to time but it was always strictly for stress relief rather than any real kind of sexual gratification. It wasn't something he actively looked forward to or routinely engaged in; it was just something he did to get it over with if he woke up with a hard-on or needed to relieve extra tension.

But after training, as most of their class, Kirishima included, headed straight to the showers to wash up, Bakugo practically bolted back to his room. He was on the verge of being desperate for some kind of physical touch, dick ridiculously hard in his uniform pants.

It was a good thing he wore his pants as baggy and loose as he did. Otherwise, he was certain he would have become the laughing stock of UA.

Miraculously, he managed to not get sidetracked by any damn extras after returning to the dorms once Aizawa and Vlad King excused both classes for the day. Everyone was too exhausted from their practice battles, covered in scrapes and bruises and black eyes, to bother trying to make conversation.

He only paused for a moment at Kirishima's behest, his boyfriend tugging him in close with a hand on the back of his neck and a huge smile on his face. Keeping things brief, he had pressed a quick kiss to Bakugo's cheek.

Though grumbling a bit at the fact that they were in front of the others, Bakugo was too proud of Kirishima for kicking Half and Half's smug ass to deny him the display of affection. It didn't do much to help the situation in his pants but he couldn't say no to such a simple request from his boyfriend.

With most of Kirishima's annoying ass friends also making a beeline to the showers — Dunce Face still sulking about getting his ass thoroughly beat by Ponytail and the weird chick with vines for hair and Tape Arms nursing a bloody nose — the coast was clear for Bakugo to hurry back to his room without raising any eyebrows.

Once in his room, he slammed his door shut behind himself hard enough to make the hinges shake. He double checked to make sure he locked it and then checked it again, just in case.

The last thing he needed was for someone to barge in without knocking.

Base arousal overcoming his intense confusion, he quickly stripped out of his uniform jacket and undershirt, the task easy due to his refusal to wear a tie. Once shirtless, he carelessly tossed his jacket and shirt onto his desk chair.

He only thought to kick off his shoes a moment before he laid down on his bed. Not caring where they ended up, he quickly shucked them off.

He frantically fumbled with his belt, clumsily unbuckling it. He undid his pants just as impatiently, nearly ripping the button off the waistband in his haste, his hands absolutely drenched with sweat.

Cursing under his breath, he wiped his palms on his sheets before yanking his pants and underwear down his thighs. He shoved them both down to his knees, not bothering to actually take them off. He let out a hiss from between grit teeth as the cool air of his room hit his cock.

"Fuck," he breathed, looking down at himself. He was already completely hard, the flushed red head of his cock already wet with precum. Just from looking at Kirishima.

What the fuck was going on? He couldn't help but ask himself that, though he didn't dwell on it for very long.

Instinct and arousal clouding his mind and cutting through his confusion like a knife through butter, he tabled his misgivings for the time being and shifted to get more comfortable. Scooting farther up the bed, he leaned back so he was slightly propped up against his headboard, his pillows cushioning his back and shoulders.

Raising his head a bit, he licked his lips and reached down to wrap a tentative hand around himself. He sighed heavily at the touch, the warmth and tightness of his hand practically a godsend.

He gave a few slow, perfunctory strokes as though testing the waters, the movement of his hand made easy thanks to the precum beading at his slit and the nitroglycerin on his palm.

It didn't feel any different than usual. There was still the same white-hot pool of molten heat in his lower belly, the same tension filling his body.

The only thing that was different was what he was thinking about. Usually, he kept his mind totally clear, focusing on just getting it over with so he could start his day without taking a cold shower or so he could fall asleep quicker. But now all he could think about was Kirishima.

Kirishima and his sweat-slick skin after a long day of training in the hot sun, hair slightly more messy than usual. Kirishima and his toned arms and sculpted abs from all the time he spent working out and training.

Kirishima and his teasing, flirtatious smile whenever he made a dirty joke, waggling his brows cartoonishly to get a laugh out of Bakugo. Kirishima and his distracting lips, so plump and flushed from how often he chewed them throughout the day.

Kirishima and his broad shoulders and his thick thighs and his dark trail of hair beneath his navel and his stupidly defined V-lines and the dimples above his ass Bakugo had glimpsed the day they had gone to the pool.

He thought about Kirishima's big, warm, callused hands, so gentle despite their roughness, so different from Bakugo's. His own hands, though thick-skinned to accommodate his Quirk, were surprisingly soft thanks to the moisturizing side effect of the nitroglycerin they produced.

Continuing to stroke himself, he tightened his grip a touch, still thinking about Kirishima's hands. He wondered how they would feel on his bare skin, wondered how Kirishima would touch him.

He had always preferred quick, hard strokes, only interested in getting it over with. But he had a feeling that Kirishima would do it differently.

Always so doting and eager to please, jumping at the chance to lavish Bakugo with attention and affection whenever he could, Kirishima would probably want to savor every moment. He would probably jerk Bakugo off at a slower pace, take his sweet time making him feel good.

Maybe he would use both hands. Maybe he would experiment a bit by running his thumb over the head.

Bakugo did just that, spreading more precum down his shaft over a thick vein. He had to bite his lip to stifle a moan at the thought of Kirishima's hands on him, stroking him. Of Kirishima's eyes, usually so wide and bright, focused on him, narrowed in concentration as he touched him.

On pure impulse, Bakugo indulged himself and let his thoughts stay fixated on Kirishima. His imagination, usually something he only used for envisioning himself as a Pro Hero or for anticipating his opponents' movements in battle, quickly took over.

As he pumped his hand up and down his shaft, his mind remained focused on what Kirishima would do if he was there with Bakugo instead of downstairs taking a shower. And if that didn't set Bakugo's heart racing impossibly faster.

At just the mere thought of Kirishima in the shower — scrubbing off soot and dust and rinsing product out of his ridiculous hair, miles of tanned skin on full display — Bakugo had to bite his lip even harder to stop a low groan that was trying to tear its way out of his throat.

Kirishima probably looked amazing — hot water sluicing over him and his smooth, soapy skin, steam radiating off him. His hair was probably plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck, down the way Bakugo liked it.

He was probably using his fancy body wash that he only used on the weekends. The cedarwood vanilla body wash; the one he had bought while shopping at the mall with Bakugo, purchasing solely because Bakugo had liked the scent so much. Paired with the natural smell of Kirishima's skin, it was (to use Kirishima's preferred descriptive phrase) the manliest scent Bakugo had ever experienced.

Somewhere in his room, Bakugo had one of Kirishima's oversized t-shirts lying around. He had unashamedly stolen it from his boyfriend to sleep in because it smelled so much like Kirishima and his special body wash.

Bakugo was sorely tempted to find it so he could bury his face in the soft fabric and bask in that wondrous smell. But finding the t-shirt would require him to stop jerking off and that was the last thing he wanted.

Instead, he thought about Kirishima skipping his shower altogether, thought about him there in his bedroom with his limited edition All Might posters on the wall and the soft, gray sheets on his bed. Thought about Kirishima lying next to him with his lazy smile and sleepy eyes and ponytail he sometimes put his hair into after a shower.

He thought about Kirishima gently settling his hands on his waist the way he did when he wanted to surprise Bakugo with a hug from behind but didn't want to receive an explosion to the face for startling him. Thought about the way Kirishima liked to nuzzle the side of his neck when they were watching TV together, Bakugo practically sitting in his lap.

Perfectly imagining the weight and heat of Kirishima's hands on his waist, Bakugo thought about Kirishima letting his hands wander over his skin. He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift as he leaned farther back against his pillows.

Still stroking himself with his right hand, he trailed his left hand down his thigh to his knee and back up, all the while imagining it was Kirishima's hand instead of his own. He repeated the motion a few times, just barely letting his fingertips glide over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, drifting close enough to his groin to briefly brush his thumb over the base of his cock.

Continuing his hand's journey upward, he dragged his fingers over the ridges of his abs and up to his chest, briefly wondering what Kirishima would think about his body. If he would like how muscular he was, if he would think that his body was manly. He shivered at both the thought and the delicate touch of his hand, so featherlight it almost tickled.

Trying to think about how exactly Kirishima would touch him, his own body somewhat of an unfamiliar landscape, he curiously dragged his thumb over a nipple. Back immediately arching, he let out a breathy grunt as his eyes flew open, goosebumps erupting over his arms.

Fucking hell. Had his nipples always been that fucking sensitive?

How the hell had he never thought to touch them before? Granted, he usually didn't let his hands wander during the rare instances when he masturbated but still.

He didn't bother worrying about it for very long, shaking his head and willing himself to keep thinking about a certain spiky-haired redhead. Kirishima would probably think to play with Bakugo's nipples.

And not just with his fingers. Those shark teeth had to be good for something.

Forget about Bakugo wanting to lick Kirishima, he wanted his boyfriend's mouth all over him. His mouth and his teeth.

He wanted to feel the bite of Kirishima's teeth on his neck, on his jaw. Wanted to feel his lips on his stomach, his collarbone, his nipples. Wanted all of Kirishima all over him.

It might have been greedy but it was just a fantasy. He was allowed to be selfish in his own masturbatory fantasies, right?

Either way, he let himself think about it. Thought about Kirishima showering his bare skin in open-mouthed kisses, mouth warm and wet the way it was when they kissed.

Fuck, Bakugo thought with a shaky sigh, running his thumb over his nipple, continually swirling it around the hard bud. If his thumb felt that good, he couldn't even imagine what Kirishima's lips, or his tongue, would feel like.

Fighting off a surge of embarrassment, he raised his thumb to his lips, parting them to take the tip into his mouth. He swiped his tongue over the digit, feeling his face flush with a mixture of arousal and self-consciousness.

Once his thumb was nice and wet, he pulled it out of his mouth with a faint pop. Lowering his hand, he dragged his thumb over his nipple again, shivering at the warm, wet glide and the sparks of pleasure it sent rippling through his body.

As his saliva cooled, his nipple tightened even further. It shot a bolt of heat straight to his groin, cock throbbing in his hand.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pictured Kirishima poised above him, straddling his waist with his mouth on Bakugo's chest. At the thought, Bakugo let out a high, reedy sound that was definitely not a whimper.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to finally coming. It was like he was on the edge of a cliff, just a hair's breadth away from tumbling over.

A light sweat was breaking out over his skin, filling the room with the cloying scent of slightly burnt sugar. Face flushed and thighs starting to quiver, his toes curled in his socks as he quickened his pace.

He dropped his hand from his nipple, moving his arm to fist his hand in his pillow beside his head. Viciously biting his lip so hard he was surprised he didn't draw blood, he fucked up into his hand, hips moving automatically.

It wasn't long after that his breath started coming in ragged pants like he had just run a mile or five, tension shooting through him like a wire that had been pulled taut. Tipping his head back into his pillow as his back arched off the bed, he willingly surrendered to the cresting wave of pleasure that crashed over him, his thoughts nothing more than a mindless repetition of Kirishima, Kirishima, Kirishima...

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Bakugo fell back onto his bed, the mattress springs squeaking the slightest bit in protest. He took a minute just to catch his breath, chest heaving as his head grew fuzzy, overcome by the rush of endorphins and oxytocin flooding through his veins.

He had never come so hard in his life. Which completely fucked with his head. Because what the fuck?

Okay, yeah sure, he knew that Kirishima was attractive in a purely objective, aesthetic kind of way. From the sharp cut of his jawline to that tiny badass scar on his right eyelid to his effortlessly charming smile and wide eyes, it would be difficult to deny that he was extremely good-looking.

But thinking about him, or anyone at all for that matter, in a sexual manner was a whole new frontier Bakugo had no idea how to navigate.

He and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago, getting together shortly after they had moved into the UA dorms.

After Kamino, they had inevitably grown closer, drawn to one another like magnets the same way they had been during the incident at the USJ and the Calvary Battle during the Sports Festival. Constantly orbiting one another, they had drifted closer and closer until they had collapsed into each other like neutron stars, captivating everyone with their supernova.

With Bakugo having horrible nightmares after his kidnapping and subsequent captivity and Kirishima being unrepentantly protective of him, they had gravitated towards each other for the comfort they could only find in one another. In the wake of them moving into the dorms, they had quickly started a new routine

If Bakugo woke up because of nightmares or anxiety dreams, he would knock on the wall between his room and Kirishima's exactly three times. No matter how late it was, Kirishima would return the knocks to indicate that he was awake and aware of Bakugo's nightmare before waiting for Bakugo to respond.

One knock meant he was fine and would be going back to sleep, while two knocks meant Kirishima was invited over to hang out and help keep Bakugo's mind off the League of Villains and whatever else was preventing him from having a good night's sleep.

On nights when Bakugo knocked twice, still shell-shocked from whatever fucked up nightmares his stupid brain had conjured up, Kirishima would rush over with extra blankets and an armful of sugary snacks for them to gorge themselves on while they watched movies or played video games together.

They would huddle together on Bakugo's bed in their pajamas, swaddled in warm blankets and surrounded by mountains of pillows as they stuffed themselves with hot Cheetos and Kirishima's favorite ice cream. They would stay up for hours, watching campy action movies with horrible acting and cliché dialogue or listening to music Kirishima thought Bakugo would like.

More often than not, they ended up falling asleep on each other, heads resting on one another's shoulders. Bakugo's typical aversion to touch was easily forgotten those nights.

Even more so on the nights when Kirishima would slip his hand into Bakugo's, intertwining their fingers without a word. Those nights, they were quiet, staring at their joined hands as they laid side by side.

Slowly, the nightmares lessened in frequency and yet Bakugo, the pining idiot that he was, continued inviting Kirishima to spend the night in his room. Just so he could spend more time with him.

It was during one of those evenings spent lounging around in Bakugo's room that Kirishima had spontaneously announced he needed to tell Bakugo something. Scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at Bakugo himself, he had uncrossed and re-crossed his legs.

After a full minute of nothing but Kirishima's nervous fidgeting, the redhead had finally admitted that he liked Bakugo; that he liked liked Bakugo.

As Kirishima had visibly tensed in preparation for some sort of rejection or outburst, Bakugo could only gawk at him, beyond shocked. Kirishima liked him? Him?

It didn't make any sense. How in the hell had sunshine boy Kirishima (as Kaminari called him) fallen for an angry, insensitive asshole like him?

Bakugo may have had a rather inflated ego but he wasn't delusional. He knew he was a fucking jackass. For fuck's sake, it wasn't that long ago that he had told Deku to kill himself. What the fuck kind of cruel, heartless piece of shit did that?

But here Kirishima was, confessing that he liked him. It wasn't Bakugo's fault he was so fucking surprised.

It was only when Kirishima, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling, started to stand to flee the room and the deafening silence within it that Bakugo finally snapped back to reality. Abruptly realizing that his silence could easily be mistaken for rejection, he had scrambled to confess that he liked Kirishima, too.

It had been just as awkward as one would expect from two teenage boys, one of whom was notoriously bad with talking about feelings of any kind.

It had taken several weeks after that for them to actually do anything about their miraculously requited feelings and shared an equally awkward first kiss.

They had been studying for a test in their Japanese Literature class in Bakugo's room, reviewing the difference between bathos and pathos so Kirishima wouldn't totally bomb the exam. After going over vocab and different literary devices for hours, Kirishima had pressed his forehead to the surface of Bakugo's desk and whined about needing a study break.

Feeling rather magnanimous, Bakugo had agreed. But he wasn't a fucking pushover so he only agreed to a fifteen minute break.

Despite his concession being pretty measly, it had earned him a radiant smile from Kirishima who had promptly stood and stretched out his arms and legs. A bit sore from sitting for so long in the same position, he had taken the liberty of flopping down on Bakugo's bed with a content sigh, arms spread out wide.

Noticing Bakugo's annoyed side-eye, Kirishima had laughed and patted the spot next to him on the bed in blatant invitation. Bakugo had eagerly accepted the invitation, moving to sit on the bed beside Kirishima.

Sitting up, Kirishima had chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked at Bakugo with a soft smile. Voice little more than a low whisper, he had asked Bakugo if he could kiss him.

Not trusting himself not to say something stupid or unintentionally insulting, Bakugo had just nodded and held his breath, waiting for Kirishima to kiss. And Kirishima did.

But it hadn't been very good.

Neither of them had known which way to tilt their heads which inevitably resulted in them bumping their noses and foreheads together with a loud, dull thunk. Pulling back with an embarrassed laugh, Kirishima had awkwardly apologized and suggested they go back to studying.

Bakugo had reluctantly agreed despite himself. Deep inside him, something fumed at the fact that he was apparently so bad at kissing that Kirishima would rather study than keep kissing him.

Fortunately, they had eventually managed to get past their embarrassment and overwhelming awkwardness and become much better at kissing. Mostly through hours upon hours of hard work, dedication, and tons of practice.

Bakugo never would have imagined that he would ever like kissing as much as he did. So much so, that he and Kirishima had regular makeout sessions after class, usually while lounging on one of their beds, tangled together in a mess of limbs.

It was their favorite way to de-stress after a long day of Aizawa's tactical deceptions and mind-numbing lessons about ethics and whatever the hell it was Present Mic was supposed to be teaching them. So after finishing their homework, almost always at Bakugo's insistence, and grabbing a quick bite to eat, they would retire to one of their rooms to leisurely kiss for a while.

They would spend hours wrapped in each other's embrace, trading long, lingering kisses and private smiles, completely forgetting about the rest of the world. It had been during one of those makeout sessions that Bakugo had told Kirishima that he was ace.

They had been sprawled out together on Kirishima's bed after finishing their advanced calculus homework, Kirishima's hands on Bakugo's shoulders and Bakugo's fingers combing through Kirishima's hair that was surprisingly soft considering how much product he used to style it. Bakugo had been running his blunt nails over Kirishima's scalp, using a gentle grip on his hair to guide his head as they kissed.

Kirishima had smiled against Bakugo's lips, curling his fingers in the fabric of his skull-emblazoned t-shirt. Shifting even closer, Kirishima had let one of his hands wander down Bakugo's side, over his slim waist and down to his hip.

It hadn't been anything out of the usual: Kirishima was a naturally tactile personal. He was always leaning against Bakugo's side during movie nights or reaching out to hold his hand even when they were just walking to lunch or returning to the dorms after class.

Even before they had been dating, he was always throwing an arm around Bakugo's shoulders or poking his side to get a rise out of him.

It had taken a bit of time for Bakugo to get used to it, the only physical affection he had been used to up until then was his dad's embarrassing tendency to hug him or ruffle his hair like he was a little kid. But once he was used to it, he quickly learned to appreciate every touch, to crave it even.

So Kirishima gently running his hand down his side wasn't any cause for concern, wasn't anything out of the norm. Until Kirishima slowly moved his hand lower until he was cupping Bakugo's ass.

Startled by the unexpected touch, Bakugo had immediately reeled back, breaking the kiss to gawp at Kirishima who immediately yanked his hand off Bakugo's ass like he had been burned. Mind racing, Bakugo had grappled with what the hell he could possibly say without ruining everything.

But ultimately, not bothering to be tactful, Bakugo had just blurted, "I'm ace!"

The second the words left his mouth, ridiculously loud in the quiet of Kirishima's room like an explosion in the middle of the night, he regretted them. He wanted to pluck them out of the air and shove them back into his mouth, swallow them down like the bitterest medicine.

But seeing as how he couldn't do that, he was left holding his breath as he stared at Kirishima. He had been frozen solid, fear lancing through him, as he waited for Kirishima to react.

Kirishima, cheeks flushed from their enthusiastic kissing, had nodded and simply responded, "Oh, okay. Cool! Uh, is this too much? Or is making out alright?"

Rolling his eyes, though overwhelmed with relief because of how well Kirishima was handling his confession, Bakugo had scoffed and explained, "It's fine. I'm just not into doing any real sex stuff. I'm not, like, disgusted by it or anything, I just don't have any interest in it."

"Alright, cool. No problem, dude!" Kirishima had answered, thousand watt smile in place as he slung his arm back around Bakugo's waist to reel him back in until their noses brushed. "Just lemme know if I do anything you're not comfortable with, okay?"

Agreeing with a quick nod, not bothering to point out that he could easily kick Kirishima's ass if he tried anything he wasn't comfortable with, Bakugo had leaned back in to kiss Kirishima again. He was so infinitely relieved that Kirishima hadn't dumped him on the spot or laughed in his face or looked at him like he was a fucking crazy person.

That would have hurt him more than anything.

As much as he hated to admit it, he actually gave a shit about what other people thought about him. It was why he always needed to be the strongest, the smartest, the best. Because if he wasn't, why would anyone care about him? Why would they put up with him? Why would they like him?

Because of his sparkling personality? Because of his wonderful sense of humor? Fat fucking chance of that.

But Kirishima did. He liked Bakugo's ambition and his competitiveness and his stubbornness. He never asked him to change who he was, aside from suggesting that he maybe stop threatening to murder Midoriya any time they interacted.

He accepted Bakugo with open arms, without complaint or demand. Accepted every part of him from his weird anal retentive way of organizing the contents of his mini fridge to his crankiness in the morning to his tendency to be especially grouchy and clingy when it was cold.

Instead of being put off by all of it, Kirishima took it all in stride.

He tried his best not to disrupt the painstakingly arranged order in Bakugo's mini fridge; he made Bakugo coffee just how he liked it in the morning to help ease his crankiness; let Bakugo wear his hoodies and hang off him like a koala when it was chilly.

So the thought that Kirishima, who accepted him so wholeheartedly, would be totally put off by his asexuality had been a fear haunting Bakugo for months. He had heard tons of horror stories about people getting dumped by their significant others because of their asexuality, had heard about how disgusted or upset or insulted it had reportedly made their partners.

But Kirishima — sweet, caring, healthily masculine Kirishima — was just as accepting as ever. And he was so informed on all things pertaining to the gay community, that he didn't need to be educated on what asexuality was and wasn't; he already knew.

It took a huge weight off Bakugo's shoulders (how the hell was he supposed to explain what had taken him years to fully understand?) but now a new burden was taking its place.

After years of being convinced he was asexual, of being so confident in his identity, he had just masturbated while fantasizing about his boyfriend after being overwhelmed by intense sexual attraction.

Maybe he really was broken. A fucking freak.

And what the hell would Kirishima say when he found out? Would he think Bakugo had been lying about not being interested in sex? And why? To get out of doing anything sexual with him?

Fuck, would Kirishima be upset with him? Angry at him? Would he get frustrated and break up with him?

With all these thoughts swirling around his head, replacing his post-orgasmic bliss with a maelstrom of anxiety, Bakugo couldn't even comprehend how in the world he was going to tell Kirishima in the first place. How exactly did one tell their boyfriend they were attracted to them?

Rolling over to bury his face in his pillow, he let out a loud, irritated groan, at a complete loss for what to do.

#wtitd tag #kiribaku #writing tag #amber writes #wild things in the dark #kirishima x bakugou #snfw #okay to reblog

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davidmann95 · 6 years

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why os batman great?

I tend to focus on the guy in the red cape at the expense of my second-favorite character, but let’s make something very, very clear: in terms of the sheer scale on which he and his iconography have imprinted onto the popular consciousness, the ratio of output to quality across all mediums for a character that’s experienced the kind of proliferation he has, and his ability to not only endure but remain at the forefront of the genre he practically co-founded across decades, Batman is easily the greatest superhero of all time.

Explaining why that’s the case is tricky to truly, substantively get right, because there’s a difference between what makes him great as a character, and what’s made him the most popular character in the world. Not to remotely denigrate the attention span/intellect of the average moviegoer or suggest they don't 'get it', but I have to imagine most people don’t love Batman because they've extensively thought about his complex motives and the fascinating symbolism that rules his world, but because he drives the world’s dopest car over to his job of suplexing crime into the pavement, which is valid because that rules. So we’ll start at the immediate mass-appeal stuff and work our way down, and the big one is something we’ve already touched on:

Batman’s cool as hell

There are certainly contrarian souls who would argue that Batman is not, in fact, relentlessly awesome. Think about him for a couple seconds, they might note, and he’s a silly manchild living in his parents’ underground basement who can only emotionally engage as an equal with literal children; they might drive the point home that his particular brand of macho hyper-capitalist performative Hard Man edginess is both shallow and ultimately passe. And if you’re engaging in a character-centered examination of his archetype as in The Lego Batman Movie or Morrison’s work with the character, those are fine points. But in terms of whether or not he’s surface-level cool? Pull your head out of your ass, peel open your eyes, and engage with the larger culture for a second: Batman is as close to objectively rad as it is possible for a concept to be.

Batman wears black body armor and drives awesome cars and sounds like Kevin Conroy. Batman lives in a mansion that also has a cave in it, and wears the slickest suits when he’s not being Batman, because Batman can buy anything. Batman is ripped and sexy.* Batman knows every martial art and parkour and can blend into the shadows, and he has a belt of James Bond gadgets. Batman is a genius who’s always ten steps ahead and can escape any trap. Batman has a pitch-black sense of humor. Batman is vicious even as he’s utterly cool in the face of danger. Batman fights horror movie villains of the supernatural, monstrous, fetishistically disturbing, and plain ‘ol slasher varieties, and wins (when he’s not busy dancing across the rooftops in pursuit of a leather-clad Anne Hathaway/Michelle Pfeiffer/Julie Newmar). Batman’s climbed his way back from chemically-induced psychosis, a shattered spine, and the gates of death, all by wit and sheer brutal force of will. Batman has a city that’s New York and Chicago and Vegas and Hell rolled into one, and when he’s needed it literally blasts his logo onto the sky in public acknowledgement of his supreme coolness, but he also travels the world to other cool-looking exotic locales so he can be cool there too. Batman has theme songs by Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer. And crucially, in spite of all of this, Batman is tormented. You can argue the validity of those conventions on an intellectual level, but what it amounts to is that Batman is a kickass figure of the night who’s the best at everything and has the best of everything, snarling all the while even as he keeps an air of amused detachment about the whole affair, and those are archetypes that humanity’s long since given the thumbs up as constituting capital-c Cool. We like people who can kick ass, the outlaws, the capable and the mysterious, so long as they’re in good stories that let us buy it. And more than anyone in pop culture aside from maybe Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine - and that dude’s done, while the Dark Knight forever remains - he’s That, the superhero.

* Yes, his depiction is more typically centered around a straight dude perspective of male physical perfection than anything actually particularly sensual or alluring, but the intent’s clearly there, and when you’ve been played by Clooney and Affleck I figure you get to claim ‘sexy’ as a fair semi-universal descriptor.

Batman is spooky

Of course, if cool was all there was to Batman’s general persona, he wouldn’t be cool at all, he’d be Poochie in a Dracula cape (which given it will presumably last until the heat death of the universe is a premise The Simpsons will inevitably have to get around to at some point, so remember you saw it here first). But what backs it up and lets people take it seriously is that he’s spooky. Not necessarily frightening - though he can most definitely be that too - but there’s an ethereal, shadowy aspect to his world that goes beyond the fright mask. It can take many forms for many situations and versions of him and his setting: lurking on a gargoyle over an alleyway, waiting for some poor unsuspecting punk to try and stick up an innocent family only to drag him ten stories up and leave him sobbing for his mother; karate-chopping his way through deathtraps and colorful henchmen, which for all its unabashed fun still carries the air of Halloween pageantry and neuroses let loose; haunting the grimiest parts of an urban hellhole, waiting to burst through the window of a roach-infested apartment or a musty disused warehouse to break bones and spill blood; appearing from nowhere, grappling with mind-bending chemical trips and fighting to stay one step ahead of killers in the shadows, dueling mad rich perverted cultists and literal demons of the underworld, overlooking a shadow city forever in flux to reflect the horrors of the moment. Even at his most innocent, there’s something irreducibly seedy and violent and enigmatic about Batman, and that not only provides immediate distinction and character to him and his surroundings - one that distinguishes both from their contemporaries - but legitimizes the entire enterprise as something that can be taken seriously.

Batman is playful

At the same time, Batman’s fun - even at his most serious he uses Batman-shaped boomerangs, and drives a cool car even though gliding and swinging lets him better avoid traffic. He needs to be fun for the kind of ubiquitous pop appeal he has, and it’s built in on every level of the brand no matter how far away you try and veer from it, letting a character rooted in loss and declarations of bloody revenge work just as well for four-year-olds as forty-somethings. The cave, the costumes, the sidekicks and signal and colorful rogues and utility belt and trophies, they give his world a size and dimension that lets him dip his toe in nearly any genre, with his inherent seriousness backing him up to let you buy him in any of those narrative territories. At the end of the day, the people shaping Batman at least subconsciously know it’s all a game, and in letting him have that kind of fun he’s granted versatility and the ability to invigorate as well as stun audiences.

Batman is emotionally, symbolically raw

And sitting at the heart of it all, giving him the gas in the engine that propels all of the above forward, is that he comes from the most viscerally, broadly relatable place of any superhero. The only one who approaches him is Spider-Man, and even there the meaning of his tragedy is somewhat displaced - there’s loss and guilt, yes, but that’s merely the catalyst for a message of responsibility. Here, that Bruce Wayne loses a concept everyone is on some level familiar with, of the happiness and comfort and stability that family is supposed to provide, is itself the point. He grabs the emotional lever right at the animal hindbrain and pulls until it snaps off: everything has gone wrong, and someone must pay for making things this way. Then for good measure he actually does make them pay while adhering to a righteous moral code that defies all he fights against, elevating himself from spooky fun action hero into myth. He’s surrounded by a city where abstract horrors consolidate down into entirely literal figures - for instance, in Gotham the fear that we can be outfoxed, overwhelmed, and systematically taken apart in service of evil stroking its own ego because we just aren’t good enough to survive is a dick in a neon green hat who likes crossword puzzles (as opposed to Superman’s world of much more personal and basic human concerns blown up to cosmic scale) - and he in turn becomes a myth of us persevering through the worst to fight back.

Batman is genuinely a good character

I place this last because this is really the nuts-and-bolts level. It’s essential, none of the above would work for 79 years and counting without it, but it’s not something many but the hardcore (which includes the comic readers by default at this point) consciously think about. But on the ground floor beneath everything else, Batman’s not just an effective piece of branding, atmosphere, and emotional manipulation, but a good character. In his motivations, with the anger that compels him often making many miss that underneath, he far more powerfully wants to ensure that no one else goes through what he did. The childishness of his methods and mindset regarding ‘the mission’ meeting the maturity of his dedication and brilliance, and the humor that can come from that disconnect (especially when his alternating disgust and amusement with his daytime masquerade as a normal person gets involved). The tentative, essential friendships he’s built with the likes of Gordon and Superman. The fatherly connection with Alfred, and the see-saw of the latter’s feelings of guilt, responsibility, and pride in his charge. The spark of his rivalries at their best. The detective work that can be as thrilling as a good punch-out when pulled off right. The forever changing complexity of the Family, a web of Robins and Batgirls and assorted hangers-on with him at the center, their existence and growth a chart of his own emotional progress and regression. His jet-black wit and self-awareness, his ability to empathize with fellow victims, his difficulties in trusting and openly loving those around him when his world is built on the knowledge of how easily those can be stripped away and how badly it hurts. The paranoia, the compassion, the drive and endurance. Beneath all the trappings, Bruce Wayne is just plain and simple a really, really good, interesting, multi-faceted character, fine-tuned under decades of creators and by his existence facilitating the creation and development of countless *other* good characters. And that’s really all it takes underneath it all to prop up a symbol that’s built empires, redefined cultures, and changed lives: the idea of a good man who refused to give up in the face of a cruel world when it forever scarred him, and made himself something greater to fight back and help others not have to go through it alone. That’s why Batman’s great.

#Batman #Analysis #Opinion

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