#all hero name list with photo

[bollywoodboxoffice]

Top 10 South Indian Hero Name With Photo

South Indian cinema has become one of the most popular genres at the Box Office just becasue of the superb acting of the Top South Indian Hero who has given the most hit movies like Pushpa (Action drama film), KGF (Action-packed movie), and Bahubali (a high-budget movie which created history in South Indian cinema with a great box office collection) that all have captured the hearts of audience…

[with-my-calamitous-love]

BUTIMGONNAGETYOUBACK

bakugou katsuki x reader

you remember all the times he tried to mend your broken heart

part 2!

a/n: ty i didn’t expect all the love on the first one 🤍

5) acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing just how badly he fucked up.

he hated you, albeit only a little. hated you for making his heart ache the way it did. when you’re young and you feel love you never know how it will end. he thought that you either love someone to marry them, or to break their heart- and when he shut the door on you, he just figured you were the latter.

oh, how wrong he was.

if it was so easy, why did he have to physically restrain himself from calling you that night? why was his mind plagued with thoughts of you hurting? hurting because of him? you gave your heart to him and he tore it to pieces. and it made him want to vomit.

some nights he missed you, and wanted you back. other times he hated you, because he hated himself, and still wanted you back.

so bakugou did what he does best. he blew the 5 stages of grief to kingdom come, and started a new list.

1) accept you fucked up

katsuki bakugou, being katsuki bakugou (aka a stubborn piece of a shit) wanted to believe that he made the right choice. that he once again came out on top, that he was doing the best because he is the best- accept in this case, being the best caused him to lose you.

you were maybe the only person who didn’t just tolerate his stubbornness, his snark or his ego, but loved him more for it. you took every horrible thing about him and decided to love him anyway. what a soul to do that.

and he tried to rationalize that you maybe wouldn’t be the only person he’d meet that accept him for all his flaws and shortcomings, but he didn’t want to risk that. he knew what he wanted and he had it. and bakugou katsuki was not going to let it go so easily.

2) accept you might not be good enough

“might” is a nice word. no. even though he was the greatest, an amazing hero, a stop student and a phenomenal hero, katsuki bakugou didn’t deserve you. someone who wiped the sweat off his forehead after a workout, who reminded him to eat in the morning and drink his water because he can’t train on an empty stomach, who reminds him that its okay to make mistakes because you didn’t fall in love with a perfect hero, you fell in love with him.

and if he’s real, he thinks he deserves less. because someone as good as you shouldn’t be with an asshole like him. but he doesn’t care, and he hopes you don’t really either. he loves you more than he hates himself.

3) know the price going in

your friends called him a dick. your brothers offered to slash his tires or even key his car. your blocked him on everything, threw everything he ever bought for you in the back of your closet, cut up all the photos and cursed out his very existence. heartbreak is only a precursor to anger, and he knew you were probably full of it by know. you learned from the best- you learned from him, after all.

so he knew he had a lot coming his way. reminders of his fuck ups, of his shortcomings. of all the times he made your pretty face cry. so he took all of that hatred and ate it, because he knew most of it (maybe all of it, but he thinks his car is innocent) was deserved. hell, he was angry too. but anger and love aren’t enemies, but rather sisters. some people are worth screaming and fighting with at 2 in the morning. you only cursed his name because you remembered every syllable of it etched into your heart.

4) know when someone still wants you

maybe he was delusional. maybe in his brokenhearted haze his brain simply made it all up in an attempt to heal what was hurting. but he could have sworn he heard you ask about him when talking with your old friends. maybe you wanted to hear about his misery and bask in it. fair. but maybe, just maybe, you actually cared about how he was doing.

and he knows you still have his hoodies, even if they’re curled up underneath your bed. he knows your still wearing his cologne because he recognizes a smell he loves whenever he’s lucky enough for you to walk by him. he knows you still reread your texts, because he’s told you things he would never even dare to utter to anyone else- words just for you. and he knows you still go to all your old date spots, because you forgot to turn off your location. you only shared it with him, anyway.

he knows your missing him, or at least thinking about him. and its maybe the only thing keeping him functioning.

5) fix your face

bakugou, a pillar of self care and health, doesn’t remember the last time he’s showered. he hasn’t eaten a full meal in a couple of days because you haven’t reminded him to. he hasn’t slept since sunday because he hasn’t called you goodnight, and you don’t know that he can’t sleep without it. he looks like shit.

so one day, a day he knows theres a small chance he might see you with your friends during training, he forces his ass out of bed and washes his face. he pats his face dry with a towel instead of rubbing, because you taught him that it lessens his acne. he uses the $21 moisturizer you left in his washroom cabinet simply because its yours, and it makes his skin soft. he wears the perfume you left behind too, because you still have his cologne and this shitty bottle or strawberry pound cake is all he has.

he looks okay. he thinks. but he’s unaware that you still think he’s as gorgeous as the first day you met him.

6) pray that you don’t care what he’s done

he’s an asshole. he has an explosive temper and most people are scared of him. he’s insensitive, he’s a jerk who doesn’t give a single damn about who’s feelings he hurts. he’s gonna be the best, and any extra’s who get in the way are nothing but dead weight. thats what he thought for the longest time, until meeting you.

so he’ll hope that you don’t care how much of a dick he really is. he knows that you love him anyway, but he has to keep praying that that’ll stay the same, even after breaking your heart. he hopes that you’ll forgive him, even if he gets on his knees to do if. you rob him of his pride, of his ego, and he loves you for it. you’re the only person that can make him weak.

and if you’re any real, understandable person who doesn’t forgive him, thats only an excuse to keep getting better. because if theres one thing katsuki bakugou is good at, its proving that he’s the best (even when he’s not.) and he swears to himself that he’ll keep making himself better until he can say that he deserves you.

7) love you till the end

he wants more than just late night phone calls and sharing playlists. he wants to succeed alongside you, share all his greatest accomplishments with you and know that you’re the greatest of them all. he wants to teach you how forever feels, to love you for as long as his lungs breath and his heart beats. being the number one hero was 2nd to being with you- and katsuki bakugou never takes 2nd places. never.

he accepts that his heart is fully, utterly, embarrassingly yours. he knows you have every right to wanna smash it up, eat it and spit it out for all he’s done to you. but he’d rather his heart and love he in your hands than anyone elses. you’re the best thing that was ever his. and even when he broke things off, when he told you he had to choose his career, he knew deep down that he was never not yours.

8) push the rest button, become something new

he was determined to stay this time, even if it meant being handcuffed to you.

1 in the morning. your place. why did you let him in? you weren’t sure. but the banging on the door suggested he wasn’t going away any time soon. you two sat on your bedroom floor, both enjoying and hating each others presence. it was the first time you had seen him in months. and of course he still looked gorgeous. you smelled your perfume as soon as he walked in through the front door.

“…you gonna tell me why you’re here, kats?” you finally broke the silence. your voice cut through the weight on the room like a knife. you did your best to hide the hurt in your voice just from seeing him. your heart ached.

“its stupid.” he mutters, shoving his hands into his sweater. he deliberately faced away front you, because he wasn’t sure if the vulnerability in his eyes would make you hate him more or love him less. maybe both.

“everything you say is stupid.” you half-heartedly chuckle, and he has it in him to scoff quietly, not disagreeing with you. the sound of pouring rain outside growing quieter as you finally got to talk to him. his voice was still your favourite melody, even when it said stupid, stubborn things.

“..just needed to see you.” he finally dares to utter, crimson red eyes looking at you with his brows furrowed. when it came to you, nothing was ever a ‘want.’ no, when it was you, it was all essential to him.

you silently cursed yourself, before getting up and softly crawling towards him next to your bed. your body finds its rightful place next to his, leaning up against him. it had been so long since you felt that warmth. he looks down at you first, not in reluctance but in genuine surprise, before finding his bearings and wrapping his arm around you tight. he was scared that if we were to fully hug you he’d end up never letting you- not that you minded, though.

“asshole.” you quo, wanting to humble him. you were still angry, despite desperately needing to cuddle with him. he simply nods, knowing you’re right. “i missed you.”

both of those statements are true.

“…i’m sorry.” his gruff voice softens, holding you tight. he finally gets to hold you again. if this is his time to say his piece, than he’ll say it with his whole chest. he never half-asses things. “i’m sorry for ever thinking it was okay to let you go.”

his voice cracked at the end there. you couldn’t see him, nor did you want to because you knew it would break your heart, but he was crying.

“…you’re such an idiot kats.” your voice cracks too, pulling him to you even tighter. “i thought you regretted it. r-regretted me or some shit.”

he shakes his head, stroking your hair. “no, i didn’t. idiot, i could never regret you.” he grits his teeth as he does nothing to stop the flow of tears. he deserves to feel the way they sting against his cheeks.

“i’m sorry, [y/n] i’m so fucking sorry. i wanted to have you back but i know how stupid that is now. maybe i’ll just grab my hoodies. or keep them, burn them up for all i care-‘’

he says before finally making eye contact with you. you’re crying and so is he. but god, looking into your eyes felt like he had his own personal universe right in front of him.

“…i wouldn’t burn your sweaters. cut them up, maybe.” you giggle, using your sleeve to wipe away the pain on your face. “but they’re mostly just all on my bed.”

his red eyes flicker up, realizing that you are indeed right. the fabrics he’s so familiar with, you’ve been spending every night with. that makes him more happy than he wants to admit.

theres a beat of silence between the two of you. katsuki feels his heart breaking in the tension. he’s mentally preparing himself to walk out your front door once again, but this time unwillingly.

“…i’m still mad at you.” you whisper shakily. he just nods, almost standing up in defeat.

“but i still want you to stay, asshole.” you utter.

the both of you sigh in relief.

he silently picks you up and pulls you into bed, not caring if all his hoodies fell to the floor, because now you had the real thing. he was so warm, like the sun shining through the clouds just after a hailstorm. he holds onto you like you’d suddenly be ripped away from him, smelling his cologne on your hair. he lets you trace tiny hearts onto his chest, that you maybe haven’t forgiven him, but still need him around. maybe thats enough for him.

and so katsuki bakugou was proved right once again. that he got you back- and he was never gonna let you go again.

tags!

@eyesforbkg @m-0ona @aise-30 @whenanafallsinlove @rnyadlcn @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @vikizzy @im-in-too-much-fandom-help @gina239 @randomrosie01 @heartsform33 @yourmajestyqueena @getou0309 @urlocalgayblueberry @brbwritingfanfic @sky2lar @alligator-person @bkgtskisblog @juststayyoasshome @leonesimp @tanjirofan63 @gabby-ha

some of @s weren’t working im so sorry 😭 i’ll just dm you!

[wisecura]

'Hate' Is A Strong Word

Izuku Midoriya x f!reader 5k

summary: for some reason, you've never liked Izuku Midoriya. call it bad vibes, a deep seated irritation, or just plain off-putting, you two just never connected. and even now as pro heroes you haven't uttered a single word to each other since high school. yet, you find yourself badly injured at his doorstep.

warnings: might be repetitive, gaslighting, manipulation, non-canon, dark fic, some blood, belittling, confinement, please don't read if you are sensitive to bad things happening to reader,

an: I haven't kept up with this fandom much but I still enjoy it. i've been busy with work and school. sadly, not fully proofread, but thank you for reading

You never quite took to Izuku Midoriya, even from the start. 

There was something about him. A nagging feeling that buzzed in the back of your mind whenever he was near.

He was the kind of guy everyone liked—or at least, no one dared to openly dislike. Shy, awkward, but undeniably kind, Izuku was the sort who'd go out of his way to help a stranger. Always pushing for justice, always the hero in waiting, the kind of well-rounded individual you'd expect to be universally admired. 

And yet, something about him set off alarms in your gut from the very first day you met. It was your first year in high school, you'd arrived at UA high, thrilled to be accepted into the hero course.

This is when you saw him.

He'd been introducing himself to other classmates, nothing different from the norm. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when they caught yours. The way he shyly moved over to greet you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to interrogate question you on your quirk, and from your understanding he kept tabs on everyone. It could've been the way his eyes seemed to trail you when you evaded his conversation, feeling odd at the line of questioning. You had no idea why every instinct tell you to keep your distance.

You did attempt friendship in those early years, especially when you noticed how easily he drew people in. Once all was settled in, he seemed to be a magnet, attracting the class in with his friendliness. Maybe that initial encounter had been a fluke? You thought that just maybe you were being overly dramatic—after all, Izuku was the epitome of harmlessness, always eager to lend a hand. No one else seemed to have an issue with him, even with his more...odd habits.

But despite your efforts, you just couldn't shake it off. Those creepy vibes you got. So you chalked it up to not meshing well. But you always watched from a distance, and continued your years making friends and overall enjoying the coursework.

Years passed, and both of you rose through the ranks to become pro heroes. 

Izuku, now known universally as Deku, consistently ranked in the top five—a celebrity in the world of pro heroes. Meanwhile, you held a respectable nineteenth place, not one for popularity races, and never quite as concerned with fame as you were with making tangible changes in the world. Not that he wasn't doing his part-

Deku was a household name, his exploits and acts of heroism the stuff of daily newsfeeds. The latest articles highlighted not just his achievements but his physical transformation too—he was now a striking 6’1", his features having matured into what many would consider handsome, listing out other measurements you hadn’t bothered to read about.

Yet, reading about him, seeing his photos splashed across the media, always stirred an inexplicable twist in your stomach. You had no logical reason to feel this way, yet the discomfort was undeniable. You still didn't like the dude.

Your interactions had been minimal since high school, limited to brief exchanges during professional gatherings. You weren’t friends, not really. But he was always friends of a friend with you. It was always weird to hear about him, and you tried to never ask-to never listen in when your friends talked about him.

And, now, as you scrolled through your phone, one hand pressed against your bleeding side, the irony of the situation didn't escape you.

This part of town was supposed to be safe, but here you were. Far from home and in trouble, late at night.

You needed to find somewhere to go—someone to plug this shit up. Your manager had recently updated your contacts with a list of “reliable partners” for emergencies—pretty handy timing, considering the mess you were in now. All listed with safe houses should you need it—your managers words echoing in the back of your mind: 'you'd better not be seen by anyone from the public'.

You had been on a secret mission, something big, something not everyone could handle. But your quirk was a perfect fit—or so you thought until things went south.

The leader of the crime ring turned out to be a lot tougher than the brief said, and instead of nabbing him quietly, you got roughed up pretty bad.

Glancing at your phone, the recommended safe locations popped up. And just your luck—it had to be him.

You frowned at the screen—thumb brushing down the refresh button desperately, but no other options seemed to be loading. There had to be someone else, but why wasn’t the stupid app showing anything?

Of course. Of-fucking-course. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Better not to bleed out on the pavement. You were sure your manager would kill you if this wound up in the newspapers.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the pain, straightening up as best you could. You tried to walk confidently into the lobby of a ridiculously upscale apartment building. It was way fancier than necessary, making you feel all the more out of place.

You barely reached the counter when the man behind it did a double-take. “Miss—““—I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya, please,” you cut him off before he could delve into questions you had no energy to answer.

He looked surprised for a moment, then turned his back to you to make the call. You could hear his hushed tones, and an even softer voice through the other end of the intercom. You couldn't make out what they were saying—maybe it was the blood loss affecting your concentration.

“Top floor, Miss—““—Thanks.” You turn away quickly, unable to keep a slight wobble from your steps. You hadn’t meant to be rude. You just really needed to sit down. 

You were a vision of resilience and grace as you press the elevator button, smearing the elevator door button in your own blood. The ride up feels like a century, each ding reminding you of the ticking clock against your injuries. You had time to turn back. To not face whatever was beyond the elevator doors. Did he open his home as a safe location often? What were you thinking—this was Deku—of course he did—

As the doors finally open, you're met with the minimalist, yet luxurious hallway leading to the penthouse suite—his suite.

It's been years since you've last even spoke to Izuku Midoriya, and now, under these circumstances, you're about to see him again.

Funny how fate plays its cruel games, huh?

Stepping out, you hesitate for just a moment before your survival instincts push you forward. Your fist meets the door, the knock more feeble than you intended. It's only a matter of seconds before the door swings open, revealing Izuku Midoriya in person.

He's taller, broader, and his eyes—those damn eyes—haven't changed a bit. He's definitely lost that baby face, his features much more defined, almost handsome. The sight of him makes your heart race for reasons you can't even begin to pin down before that deep voice reaches your ears.

"Shit, you look like hell," wide eyed, he blurts out. "What happened?"

You try to muster a smile, but all you manage is a grimace. "Got into a bit of trouble. Mind if I come in? Kinda bleeding out here," you quip, half-joking, but entirely serious.

He doesn't hesitate, grabbing your arm, gently but firmly, as he helps you inside. "Of course, come in. What are friends for?" he says, though you both know the term 'friends' might be a stretch, you sure as hell weren't gonna comment on it now.

Oddly enough, he doesn't press you for more details, instead guiding you to the sofa. "Let me look at that wound," he says, already moving to fetch a first aid kit and a towel. You feel somewhat guilty at your thoughts as you watch him, his movements efficient and practiced. What if you bled out onto his couch? And now that'll be the first thing on his mind when he sees it? what're you even thinking?

How often has he done this? You mind briefly flashes back to a news report you'd seen recently, of him saving a group of people from a hostage situation turned deadly. And despite your reservations about him, you can't help but feel a reluctant admiration stirring within you. That and this. He really wasn't a bad dude. Maybe a bit awkward, but who wasn't?

You raise your shirt slightly, exposing the expanse of your stomach, an audible sigh from him before his hands find their way to clean the area, surprisingly gentle.

It's a strange intimacy, one you make damn sure to ignore. In other situations you may have blushed, leading with a 'buy me drinks first' joke but you really didn't want to add to the moment.

"Do I want to ask how the other guy looks?" Izuku teases lightly, a break from his jaw tensing, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—bitter but genuine.

"Yeah, I may have gotten the short end here," you reply, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there that wasn’t present in your school days, a maturity that seems to fit him well. It annoys you, seeing how much he's grown into himself, into the hero everyone expected him to be. Was it jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.

Sitting there, letting Izuku tend to your wounds, you can’t help but feel a twist in your stomach that’s not from the injury. It’s from the sheer absurdity of the situation—seeking help from someone you’ve always distrusted, yet here he is, proving to be the hero he always aimed to be. Not asking for anything in return, always helpful, always willing.

And, yes, that bugged the shit out of you. You were wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" His eyes flick back over to you, stilling your breath. He lets out another sigh, unwrapping the bandage from his kit.

"The Gokudo Group, right?" You look away, refusing to meet his heavy gaze. He didn't seem entirely happy with the direction of the conversation—

"How do you know about that?" The question sounded silly the second it left your mouth. A top pro hero knowing about a mission so close to his residence? It'd be stranger if he hadn't heard about it. He lets out another soft chuckle, and you feel yourself blush at the way it seemed to lick up your spine.

"Let's call it a guess." As he finishes bandaging your wound, his touch lingers a moment on your side, reminding you of his closeness.

"You should rest," he suggests, his voice soft, almost nonchalant. He seems to see no issue with the idea. A man. A woman. Alone in a pent house sweet. "Stay here tonight. It's late, and you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

You want to protest, to assert your independence, but the room tilts slightly as you try to sit up straighter, his grip tightening on your waist as you let out a small painful whimper. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of you staying, and realistically, blood loss was indeed a bitch.

"I guess...I don't have much choice," the words tasting sour on your tongue. For a fleeting moment, Izuku's seems like he wants to say something, fighting with his inner voice, before settling on something else.

"...Of course, you're always welcome here," he assures you, his tone dripping with a sincerity that feels too thick, too heavy. He stands, pressing a button on the wall to adjust the blinds, casting the room into a dim glow. He stands illuminated in a warm glow by the lamp in the corner. Your heart continues its gymnastics, flipping in ways you can't fucking believe.

"Let me get you some water, maybe something for the pain." As he disappears into the kitchen, you try to relax against the plush cushions of his sofa, feeling much more guilty at the thoughts you'd had not even thirty minute prior. This wasn't how you imagined your evening would end, and his kindness seemed to eat away at you by the second.

Your gaze drifts around the neatly kept space, landing on small, personal touches that seem innocuously domestic. Photographs of smiling faces, trophies from his hero work, books on strategy and quirk development. It's all so…Midoriya.

When he returns, he hands you a glass of water and a pill, his smile reassuring. "This will help with the pain," he says, and you take the small tablet from him, your fingers brushing against his, the contact somewhat nerve-wracking.

"Thanks," you whisper, downing the medicine without a second thought. He watched you closely for a second, another thought on the tip of his tongue before he decides to just sit down next to you. Not close enough to warrant a side glance, but close enough that you can smell his smooth cologne, a soothing fragrance that lingers in the back of your throat. A smell that was distinct, unforgettable.

"You know," hesitating, "...I always...hoped we'd get a chance to catch up," his voice a soft murmur blending into the backdrop of the city's faint sounds filtering through the window. You would've sworn he hadn't said anything if it wasn't for your good hearing. "...I've followed your career, you know. You're doing amazing things."

His words sound like a compliment, but you can't help but think: just how closely has he been watching me? The tension in the room was so fucking awkward....

And the comment was innocent enough, so you push the feeling aside, chalking it up to paranoia. He's being nice. He's being nice.

You literally have no reason to doubt him.

Whatever. You can't shake that nag, you're fighting with yourself just to lean into the small comfort he provided, but that itch keeps coming back the more he talks. Just keep your distance, like always, and make your exit in the morning before he wakes up. Maybe send a fruit basket when you get back home as a parting 'thank you' gift.

"Yeah, well, we've both been busy, I guess," He watches you a moment, his expression unreadable before offering a gentle smile. You let out a small yawn, scooting further into the couch. Further away from his spreading legs, hoping to convey your sleepiness.

"Very busy," he agrees, as he stands to grab a blanket from a nearby closet. Thankful for the space, you breath a sigh of relief. You jump when he comes back, yet his voice is gentle, and his movements are tender, almost loving, as he drapes the blanket over you.

You notice his hands tremble slightly—a nervous energy you remember all too well from your high school days. He's nervous. And it sets you on edge even more, despite the fact that he couldn't be more welcoming to you in this moment—a pillar of comfort and support. The blanket he brought was so fuzzy and warm. Your favorite color too.

"Looks like we finally get that catch-up session, huh?" he chuckles easily. You half-expected him to retreat to his room once you were settled, but here he was, still the same Midoriya, despite looking so incredibly different. Never fully catching that hint. You manage a weary smile, feeling the weight of your eyelids, barely still able to converse.

"Yeah, it's been a while. Life as a pro hero doesn't exactly leave much free time for reunions," Izuku nods enthusiastically, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa until you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg just inches away. You subtly scoot away, maintaining a polite distance, his eyes wide, as he enthusiastically regals your most recent mission.

"That rescue mission form last week was just spectacular, the way you dove right in, you were just perfect, and those people you saved--" He stops himself, realizing he was about to go into a whirlwind. He lets out a nervous laugh, "Sorry,"

But you give him the best smile you can muster up with the gaping wound in your side. And subtly, almost unconsciously, his leg inches even closer to yours, again. You try to dismiss it, reminding yourself of how he always a little closer with his friends—maybe this is just another subconscious thing he did?

"Thanks, Midoriya. You’ve not done too badly yourself," you reply, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "Top five, right? I always knew you’d shoot up."

He absorbs your compliment, his face lighting up from the small bit of praise you've given him. His gaze narrows in, almost studying you, as if he’s trying to memorize your every expression.

When he speaks again, there's a hint of shyness in his voice, a subtle clinginess that feels slightly misplaced. "You know, I always thought maybe we’d end up working together, you know? Side by side." His voice dips a bit at the end, his eyes are earnest, almost pleading, as they search yours for a reaction.

"That’s...a....nice thought," deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the idea of being this close to him in any capacity would be too much, too soon.

Izuku’s expression momentarily falters, resembling a dejected puppy, and he quickly tries to mask his disappointment, shifting his demeanor to regain some of his earlier lightness. “But hey, we’re here now, right? Maybe it’s fate or something,” he jokes weakly, forcing another lighthearted laugh.

The word 'fate' hangs between you, heavy and foreboding. “Maybe,” you echo, not quite sharing in his forced cheer. The conversation pauses, leaving you acutely aware of the rapid beating of your own heart in the silence that follows.

"Yeah–heh–it’s been quite the journey," he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "But....enough about me. Tell me about you. How have things been...really?"

You shift under the blanket, feeling a bit unnerved by his continued presence. Why didn't he just go to bed? You hadn't even talked much about him in the first place. Was he fishing for something?

"Busy, eventful, and endlessly tiring," you answer truthfully, hoping your frankness might send a subtle hint, topping it off with another yawn.

He nods, mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I can imagine. It must be hard, always being on the move—never able to find time for yourself, never able to catch up. Always the playing the 'hero'."

The way he says 'hero'—with a trace of something like displeasure—makes you pause, almost surprised. "...Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Right, right," Izuku agrees, though his voice trails off, leaving a lingering question in the air. He seems to gather his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours.

"You know, I've always wondered..." his tone shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative, "why we never got along better. I mean, we were always in the same circles, kind of."

You feel a slight tightening in your chest as the topic veers dangerously close to the unease you've always felt around him. "Yeah, I guess we just had different…interests," you hedge, trying to keep the conversation light and steer away from deeper waters that you’d prefer not to navigate.

How exactly could you explain to him that you found him incredibly fucking creepy until now? And even now.....

Izuku's response is slow, thoughtful. "Maybe,"

He concedes, his tone reflecting a tinge of dissatisfaction, voice more probing and less subtle than you've ever heard it before. "But I've always respected you, you know? Always thought highly of your abilities."

"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot," you reply, not sure how to respond, not used to the praises from someone like him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've always wanted to be...closer. To understand you better. I felt like we never really got the chance."

His words hang in the air, and you're hit by the raw honesty in his voice—an honesty that's bordering on confrontation or confession—you aren't sure. You scramble for a diplomatic response, your mind racing. You didn't want to upset him here, but you sure as hell weren't looking to become best buds.

"Midoriya, it’s not that we didn't get a chance. We just...didn’t.....vibe that way. It happens."

"But why?" His frustration is more evident this time, his voice tense, losing that more playful tone. "I’ve seen how you are with others—laughing, sharing. I just don't get why I never got that side of you."

"It’s nothing personal, Midoriya. I’ve always been more introverted....Maybe our timing was just....off or something."

But he just can't seem to let this go. He's always liked you, but you've always seemed to avoid him. He's never been able to figure it out.

"...I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, right?" he starts again, his tone becoming harsher, a drastic shift from his usual soft charisma. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee, a clear sign of his restlessness. "I always asked about you, you know. Whenever I ran into someone who knew you, I made sure to find out how you were doing." The revelation sends a chill down your spine.

This could have been sweet—checking in on a friend—but his words sound creepier, like he was stalking you or something, and his intense gaze makes you recoil slightly.

"I just...I've always liked you. A lot, actually," he continues, his tone bordering on accusatory. "And I don't think you ever noticed. Or maybe you did and just didn't care."

"That’s…that's a lot to take in," you respond cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, well, it's been a lot for me too, watching from the sidelines. Always the hero everyone loves, except for the one person I actually wanted to impress," his voice rising slightly with frustration.

He continues rambling, each sentence more unsettling than the last. "I've kept tabs on you. I know it might sound weird, but I had to know. I thought if I knew more about what you liked, what you did, maybe I could find a way to be part of that." His confession sends a cold shiver down your spine.

"Isn't that just ridiculous?" he laughs, the sound hollow—bitter, filling the increasingly claustrophobic room. His eyes become distant and slightly frantic. He couldn’t stop himself.

"Midoriya, I think you’re reading too much into this—” you start, trying to defuse the tension, but he cuts you off. "No, I don't think so. I think you've always known how I felt. And you used it against me. Kept me at arm's length on purpose," he accuses, his voice turning harsh.

Witnessing Izuku transform from the awkward, 'lovable' hero you once knew into this intense, confirmed everything that nagged in the back of your head before. An anger issue? Ego problems?

"Everyone else always sees the best in me. Why couldn’t you? What made you so different?" he demands, his voice laden with a toxic mix of longing and bitterness. Finding yourself speechless, the situation spirals beyond your control. "Midoriya, please, this isn’t healthy. We should—”

"Healthy?" scoffing. "What do you know about healthy? You've barely even looked at me all these years. And now, you show up only when you need something? That's a bit contradictory, don't you think?"

The realization that you are alone with him, caught in this escalating situation, keeps you mind spiraling into a semi state of panic. Your sense heighted—fight or flight.

"You know, it's always been more than just platonic for me," his gaze cutting through the dimly lit room, locking onto you with an unsettling earnestness. He too close, too close, "I've cared about you in ways I probably shouldn't have. And I've waited...waited for you to see that."

"Midoriya, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I really think I should head home and rest," you suggest, reaching for your phone to call an Uber.

"You said you'd stay the night," he reminds you, snatching the phone quickly from your hands. "Are you really going to go back on your word now? After I've opened my home to you, treated your wounds?"

Caught off guard by his overt pushiness and blatant aggression, you stammer, "Hey—Midoriya, I didn't mean—"

"No, you never mean to, do you?" he cuts in, his tone increasingly harsh. "You come here, into my home, ask for my help, reject my friendship—once again, and now you want to leave just like that? It’s always the same with you. You take what you need and then you're gone."

"That's not fair, Midoriya. I appreciate everything you've done tonight, but I'm really not feeling well, and this conversation is a lot to process," you explain, trying to maintain your composure under his scrutinizing gaze.

Izuku's tone shifts, blending accusation with a hint of hurt, his face morphing into that lovable sad expression he wore on occasion. Much like a kicked puppy. "That isn't right. I thought you were a good person. I'm just trying to understand your problem with me. What's wrong with that?"

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself amidst the emotional whirlwind he's creating. "Midoriya, trying to understand each other isn't the problem," you begin cautiously, "but the way you're going about it—it's overwhelming. It feels like you're not just asking for understanding—you're demanding a specific response from me, one that I'm not prepared to give."

His brow furrows, and his stance becomes defensive. "So, you're saying I'm overwhelming you? I'm some evil guy? Me? A top pro hero? After all these years of keeping my distance, the moment I try to be honest about my feelings, I'm suddenly too much?"

"No, that's not what I mean, Midoriya—please—"

Izuku’s question slices through the tense air, unexpected and jarring. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His tone holds an edge of possessiveness that makes you uneasy. The query, seemingly out of nowhere, is clearly aimed at gauging your 'availability'—challenging it.

“No, but that’s not the point,” but Izuku scoots in closer, his larger frame hovering over your laid back one. Yes, he was much bigger than he was in high school. And yes his broad shoulders stood out 3 inches past your own. You couldn't stop your panicked breathing, the situation too unbelievable.

As Izuku inches closer, his large frame overshadows you, physically cornering you against the back of the sofa. The space feels oppressively small, his presence suffocating. His voice carries a chilling mix of sweetness and venom that you've never heard before, unsettlingly different from the hero you thought you knew.

“So, let’s get this straight....again.,” you avoid his gaze, near impossible from how close he is, “You’ve never had time for me, always brushed off my attempts to be close, and now here you are, in my home, accepting my help after all these years. And you think you can just leave after that, like nothing happened?”

You feel a bit embarrassed when he puts it like that.

“Izuku, I just came here because I needed help, I never meant to—”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You needed help, and I was convenient for you,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but laced with a sharp edge. “Isn’t it funny how after all these years of avoiding me, suddenly I’m the one you run to when you’re vulnerable? Does that seem fair to you?”

“I’ve always cared about you, more than you know,” his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’ve watched you from afar, always hoping you’d look back. But you didn’t. And now here you are, finally seeing me, but only because you need something. Don’t you owe it to me to stay? After everything?”

His question hangs heavily in the air, charged with expectations you never consented to. Flustered and trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, you start to respond. “I-I’m sorry, Midoriya—”“—Izuku. Please, after all this time, don't you think you could call me by my first name? It’s like you’re still trying to keep me at arm’s length, even now,” The hurt very clear in his voice.

As you struggle to find the right words, trying to navigate the complex emotional minefield he specifically laid out, his next action catches you completely off guard. Without waiting for your consent, he suddenly shoots up, his arms scooping you up in a princess-style carry, far too easily, but expected from a bulky pro hero. The suddenness leaves you flabbergasted and flushing bright red.

"I-Izuku," you stammer, your voice tinged with shock and a hint of protest. "Ah, much better," he responds with a pleased smile. The smile he gives you is something else—wide and triumphant, as he carries you to another room.

The large room he brings you into is softly lit, the bed neatly made. You noticed a vanity on the side wall, feminine products lining the small shelf—eerily similar to the products you have in your cabinet at home. The room was set to your exact style, items you had at home—in your online wish list—were all here.

He sets you down gently on the bed, and the reality of the situation sinks in deeper. He observes you for a moment, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by your discomfort. As if he's observing a cute puppy, learning to walk on its own.

"Time for bed. I'll be back tomorrow." He turns to leave, and you reach out for him. "Izuku, wait—" voice laden with a plea for some semblance of normalcy—some answer to the questions you refused to voice, the room you were actively refusing to acknowledge.

"What's wrong?" he interjects with a grin, his tone cooing, demeaning, belittling. "You’re not going to ask me to tuck you in or stay the night, are you?" You could hear the underlying challenge. The jest sent to provoke something from you. "No, that’s not—I just think we need to talk about tonight," You're voice stead, yet you're on the brink of tears, the fear creeping up the back of your neck. A pro hero, a pro hero, he's a pro hero—

Izuku's face hardens at your words, his posture stiffening as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Talk? We’ve been talking all night. You said you wanted rest right?" he retorts defensively. "You’re safe here, aren’t you? I’m taking care of you, after all. What’s there to complain about?"

You know something isn’t right, but his aggressive pushback and the veiled mockery in his tone make you second-guess your instincts to speak up.

"Yeah, I...Thank you...Izuku," you find yourself saying, the words heavy on your tongue. The unease churns in your stomach, but the mean look in his eyes silences the protests forming in your mind. You lie back on the bed, covering yourself quickly, still in your street attire.

Izuku nods, seemingly satisfied with your subdued response. "See? That’s better. Just relax, I’ve got everything under control," he says, his tone soothing yet laced with a possessiveness that doesn’t escape you.

As he turns off the light and exits the room, leaving you in the dim glow of the nightlight, you're left to grapple with the unsettling blend of guilt and apprehension, too nervous now to challenge the dynamic he’s forcefully set.

Would you be allowed to leave tomorrow?

come home

[frownyalfred]

Had a thought for a really dumb identity reveal fic (that I'll probably never finish but want to share lol) where a magician/god like figure decides to summon the Justice League into a pocket dimension and make them complete a series of tests. The caveat is that he takes their powers from them while doing it.

The issue the league runs into is his timing, and the fact that somehow instead of summoning Batman he summoned Brucie Wayne and his army of children from the middle of a Gala.

Bruce is gaslight, gatekeep, girlbossing for all of them. He keeps implying that the spell must have considered him a hero on par with them because of how much he donates. Any time someone tries to ask why the kids also showed up they start talking about how it must of been a proximity thing! They were taking a group photo!! Big group photo!! Every one must have just been touching or something?

It definitely ends in Brucie "accidentally" solving the puzzles with the league until the very end when they hit one he can't fake his way through. Just occasionally tripping into things like "oh!!! This opens a secret passage!!! Who would've expected that."

The kids are no help. They keep taking about how "familiar" Green Arrow looks. Oliver is sweating bullets about the Wayne's realizing who he is and they all know it.

I love this!! It reminds me of a fic idea I think I briefly talked about on here before. It was stolen from a Merlin BBC fic where a spirit wouldn't let their group pass until every single person in the group said every name they're known by, including titles, awards, monikers, names they call themselves, etc.

I always wanted someone to write a Justice League version of that fic, since the JL has tons of identity reveal stuff to divulge in that moment, even the heroes who don't have secret identities!

I'll list Bruce's just to start...

Bruce: Batman, Brucie, Bruce Wayne, CEO, Mr. Wayne, The Dark Knight, Gotham's Son, The Prince of Gotham, Father, Cousin, Son, The Demon's Successor, World's Greatest Detective, Master of Martial Arts, etc...

It's the kind of secret identity reveal he can't outsmart or weasel his way out of, which I love. And the other members don't quite get what a huge reveal all of those names is for him. He doesn't brag and protects his kids' existence like nothing else!

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches. 

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters. 

 "I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place. 

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship. 

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling. 

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine. 

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate. 

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!" 

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't. 

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face. 

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”  

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

~

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you. 

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased. 

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it. 

You clear your throat, "How are you?" 

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands. 

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back. 

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together. 

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure. 

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still. 

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.” 

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.” 

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him. 

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

[dokidokitsuna]

O.R.C.A.’s Directory

(Finally coming back to this concept after several months ^^;)

O.R.C.A. in #re_rise doesn’t just run Alterna in the background and give you orders– it’s a system you interact with regularly as the player; a database that facilitates your adventure and keeps track of your accomplishments. It is accessed through terminals placed at key spots on each site, which you have to find, activate, and physically walk to if you want to use them.

Most of the contents of the Menu (except the Sunken Scrolls) are now consolidated into O.R.C.A., along with a few bonus features~

Alterna Archive: Basically the Alterna Logs– all the information about Alterna’s history, from creation to collapse (referencing my rewritten version of this backstory, of course). As you clear lab spaces with different weapons, earn Golden Eggs, activate terminals, collect Nostalgic Devices, etc., the files will be decrypted line by line. Basically, anything that contributes to your percent completion of the game will count towards this…so just enjoy Alterna the way you like, and you’ll eventually reveal the entire archive without too much extra effort. ^^ This story is O.R.C.A.’s gift to you; your reward for reawakening its home.

Lab Notebook: Notes written by the ‘mysterious researcher’ currently working in Alterna, earned in order from newest to oldest, so we can gradually learn what the Fuzzy Ooze is and why he made it, as well as his origin story and true identity (in his own words~). These replace ‘Log.exe’ from the actual game. Lab notes are found by reaching computers hidden within the lab spaces, kinda like the Power Egg packs. They are purposely placed in the more challenging spaces, and you must clear the space in order to take the note with you– if you wanna learn the main antagonist’s secrets, you gotta put in the work. ^^

Wellness File: Records of Neo Agent 3’s responses to the environment, once you obtain the biometric monitor in Cryogenic Hopetown (more on that later). This is essentially an account of how the player character is feeling at each point in the story– a new entry will be created after each encounter with a major character (Deep Cut, the King Salmonids, the Squid Sisters, etc.) or a particularly interesting Alterna landmark. ;)

Nostalgia Index: List of all the Nostalgic Devices you’ve collected, which Alterna citizens they belonged to, and what they used them for. The citizens’ names are redacted, but you do get to learn a bit about the different kinds of people who lived in Alterna, and connect with them through the items they left behind.

Skill Tree: Basically the same as the in-game version, minus the Hero Shot buffs– in #re_rise you don’t get the Hero Shot until you gain the Hero Gear in the last stretch of the game. Instead you borrow from weapons’ lockers placed around Alterna…meaning you can carry the weapon of your choice as you explore each site, offering you a wider variety of strategies to use on those balloon challenges, for instance. ^^ But I digress…

Camera Roll: One of the Nostalgic Devices you can find is a digital camera, and once you’ve obtained it, you can take pictures with it and upload them to the terminal (as well as your regular photo gallery, when you’re back on the surface). The Alterna Camera comes with its own special filters, and characters you aim it at will pose for you. ^^ This feature is basically just for funzies, but if you can snap a picture of that large figure lurking in the shadows, you’ll earn a special clothing item.

Messages: Occasionally you will receive mysterious messages, warning you with increasing severity to stay out of their laboratory (and bring back their golden eggs…sure sounds familiar). Are these warnings for their sake or for yours…?

Map: Even the site maps are only accessible through the terminals, they’re not available whenever. Maybe that would be a controversial choice…but I think it’d be okay in this instance, since (a) the Alterna islands are pretty small, and (b) I’ve invented a fun system that might help– the Sticker Beakons! ^^

Around Alterna, you can find Sticker Sheets with 3 Sticker Beakons each, to place and replace wherever you want on any island. They shine like actual beacons so you can use them to navigate while you wander around on foot, and once you reach a terminal you can jump to them like normal Squid Beakons. They come in different shapes and designs like the stickers from Hotlantis, and double as actual stickers you can place on your locker, once you’ve found them in Alterna. ^^

I feel like forcing the player to walk around is more forgivable when you give them something cute and customizable like this to play with. :D If you want to use all 18 Sticker Beakons on one island at a time because you’re super directionally-challenged, you can. If you want to use them to simply mark your favorite Alterna landmarks so you can jump to them easily, you can do that too. 

Maybe as a compromise, I might add a ‘Return to Nearest Terminal’ option in the Menu…but I think encouraging the player to get out there and actively explore can’t hurt. Part of my philosophy with this re-concept is to make Alterna an interesting place that the player would WANT to explore, and all these added collectibles are part of that.

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 5: Yandere Hawks

You know, people should be real glad he's such a nice guy. A Hero. Cause it was WAY too easy to get Her files. Tsk, tsk. Such poor security! He's kinda disappointed, honestly. He was sorta expecting a bit of a challenge.

It IS a Goverment building after all.

But maybe it's 'cause she's not a Hero herself. She's a civilian. So they don't care as much. You'd think you'd just get universal security and then lock down the Heroic files, but no. Glorified safes and lock boxes. Clear and traceable holes in all SORTS of bloodlines.

Gee, wonder why Mr. and Mrs. So-n-So have a redacted kid! Bet THEY'RE not related to any Heros! Sure won't be easy to just go to their HOUSE an find their kid's name THERE along with a few hostages!

It's theater. A joke, really. He's kinda GLAD he basically has no family, if THIS is the security they'd get.

Good thing he's removing Her files. They'll be MUCH safer with him~. A few dummy files left in their plaaaace, aaaand... back out through the blind spots in the camera coverage! Honestly, he's done harder exercises with his feathers literally concussed.

Ooooh~☆ Like that one. And that one~!

He keeps flipping through his social feeds. Might as WELL multi-task. Selfie with the skyline~♡! Aaaand upload. There we go, that's his #Aesthetic post of the day. Now PR will have nothing to complain about. Hmmmm, should like a few memes. Don't comment on THAT scandal. Joke about THAT one. Post a thirst trap modeling pic... aaaand...

He feels his feathers escape the building. Finally! It was his last hit of the night. File finally in hand, he lazily rolls to his feet, stretchs. Tucks the file away but not his phone. Then let's himself drop forward into open air. Let's his wings CATCH.

The magnificent slide of cool air against his feathers, the resistance of wind against his wings. He soars and for a moment... let's himself feeling nothing else. It is perfect.

It always is.

First things first, dropping of the files. Gotta keep them safe after all. Then... then he SHOULD be going to bed. Heck, if he doesn't feel like going alone, it's not like he doesn't have OPTIONS. He honestly has too many. But even then, the thought of it's exhausting...

They want The Mask. And yeah, sometimes it's FUN being the mask. Good for PR. Adds to his good reputation when they inevitably talk.

And they always DO talk.

They spread the word exactly as he expects them too. Dispite swearing, to the last, not to breathe a word. The picture of discretion, they PROMISE, Hawks~♡! Ha. 'Course they are. Pretty, chatty, birds. Picked for their scandal free backgrounds, photo ready faces, and hero positive attitudes.

He gets a LIST for every event he goes too. Has several, ranging from "approved in general" to "by region". Really... the height of romance, his meet-cutes. Picture perfect down to the last detail.

You'd almost thing a team of handlers PLANNED them for him.

Not to say the sex isn't great. Sex is always nice! Just... not when you're not in the mood for something REAL, ya know? When you want to get... get MESSY.

Hunt someone. See those eyes dilate, utterly AWARE and focused completely on HIM. That moment of indecision. Stay and fight? Run? Watching the scales tip and clatter in ruin to the floor. Run. Let um get a head start. RUN. Want to see those Big BEAUTIFUL Wings snap out to their full width, massive and powerful, and RIP through the air as they fling her into the sky. RUN!!!

Run away, lil predator. He's coming to CATCH you~

God, she'd be so POWERFUL in the air. So DANGEROUS. Eating up the distance like she actually stood a CHANCE. Those wings, so far from fragile its laughable. But... oh. Oh, he's FASTER. So, so much faster. Agile in a way her raw power robs her off.

She would never be able to fight him off. Would have NO chance to truely escape.

And then?

Then it's a matter of stamina. Training. And only ONE of them's a Hero~

He'd harry her. Feathers flying from ever angle, deadly sharp and far too close. Better dodge! Use your quirk! Oh DEAR, uses stamina as a fuel source does it? Hope you have ENOUGH~!

Little cuts. Kicks here and there. Pushing her lower~ Pushing her lower~ Watch out for that building! Uh oh! Powerlines! Large wingspan is a benefit in open air~ but it works against you heeeeereeeee~! Better LAND, lil harpy!

Before he knocks you from the SKY.

And he WOULD. God, it would be AMAZING. If he got her at just the right angle? He could kick her into a building, a tree, SOMETHING. Or maybe as she goes to flap? He could trap a wing. She'd DROP.

Wrap her torso in enough feathers to pin it. Slow her fall juuuust enough to really hurt, but keep her from hitting wrong. Ah~ bet she'd SCREECH. Struggle and lash like a cornered animal. Wing slamming the dirt helplessly, flapping uselessly, as she tries SO hard to get free... heart pounding, legs kicking, adrenaline surging through her veins~

He Wins, lil fighter~ now he gets his prize~♡

Ah, he bets you'd BITE. If the HPSC wouldn't kill him for it, he'd probably LET you. Let you scar him up in your rage. Leave your mark. You'd be so PISSED at losing. So nervous. And he can get that, vulnerability is a lot. Big, strong, walls all crumbling down? It'd feel like raw nerves. Being SEEN.

And he'd SEE her alright.

Even if she managed to avoid it. Managed to land, run, get herself nice and lost. He'd chase her down. Wear her down. Til the anger has no more fuel to burn. The threats have no more strength. Make her run and fight and run and climb and RUN... until her body just? Can't any more.

All struggled out~

Nothing but muscles shaking and bruises, feather cuts and the sweat that burns them. Gasping for air that can't seem to come fast enough. She never stood a chance~ But he let her try anyway.

And god. All his senses would be ON FIRE. Practically high on it. He'd be everything he's NOT supposed to be. Every instinct he's supposed to shove down on full glorious display.

He'd feed her till she CHOKES. She wouldn't get a choice. Watch the grease run down her pretty face and neck. Run his fingers through those pretty feathers and feel HIS against her skin. Preening and so, so pretty. All clean~ All those pretty little cuts and poor lil scrapes.

He put his merch on Each And Every One~

Little red feather band-aids all pretty on her skin~♡

His~ Won fair an square. Gotta take care of it. Blood and grease and sweat. Find all the places that make his Harpy bird squirm. But she can't escape. Not ever escape. He won. His, his, his. He'd make those place feel NICE. Watch her as she feels good.

She'd be so tired. So sore. She'd WANT to feel good. Be so tired of fighting and pretending. Hungry. And he'd be so good about how he takes care of her. Cause he's a HERO. Massaging hands and feathers that hold her nice and still. Careful kisses and playful teasing. Then? He'd hold those powerful, exhausted, thighs open and show her what worship feels like.

She'd make SUCH cute noises. He bets he could make her beg. Could probably make her cry.

He's fantasized, before, about not holding back. When some hero chaser is in his bed, with the "real" Hawks. Performing once again, a different facet of the Mask, all the better to pretend he is a Real Boy. Ha! What would be like? To do nothing but feel GOOD? To concentrate on pleasure? The feeling of his body moving?

To GRAB and put his back into it? Knowing damn well he'd leave bruises. Because he's stronger then them. Because his body is a weapon. Because wires in his brain were mixed up long, long ago and nothing can possibly undo it now. Wanting to snarl and shred everything around him as he rams home, deep and good like he's melting.

Wants feathers EVERYWHERE. Under him, against his skin, attached to whomever he's fucking. A God damned NEST. With blankets and feathers and tatami.

Wants to be BONELESS for how hard he fucked. How much effort it took. A marathon and a national EVENT. Wants to put on a parade and have a feast and then RUIN all of it. It's like screaming in his head, sometimes. All the instincts he is forced to repress and ignore. They blend together. Violence and hunger and horny and NEEDY AND ANGER AND-!

He lands. Outside her apartment. He's seen rats live in better places. It's an unkind assessment. But he's abruptly feeling kind of... agitated. He really should push her towards a better job. Like working for him. Or living with him. Or being HIS. Maybe both. And he'll need to hunt down a few insurance agents. Have some TALKS.

He slips a few feathers into the building. Her neighbor sleeps with the window cracked. From there? The vents. Gotcha~

The steady sound of breathing. Asleep. The rhythmic pattern... knowing it's from HER... it's...

It's soothing.

He settles back into a watchful crouch. He's still on edge. Hard. But nothing he can't fix. He has a pretty good angle from where he's perched. You forgot to fully close your blinds. And his eye sight is EXCELLENT. You look so relaxed~♡

He feels you breathe. Gently, ever so gently, let's one of his feathers drift forward to land carefully against a cheek. Warm. He can feel your pulse.

He strokes himself franticly. The cold air of night time just adding to the thrill as it teases everywhere his hand is not. His handlers would HATE this. The HPSC would NEVER allow it. He presses his other had to his face, to muffle his voice, as he desperately tries to both buck his hips AND keep his balance. So good. God she looks so VULNERABLE~

He milks the tip. Finally giving in to the urge to BITE his hand, glove leather filling his mouth. The only think keeping him upright on the phone poll he landed on, is the feathers he's grabbed himself with. And even THAT reminds him of his earlier fantasies. He spills, jerking, and raining down on the unsuspecting street below.

Good thing it's so late at night.

His entire body is riding the aftershocks. Sensitive and good. Euphoric. He laughs, wild eyed as he stares down at his hand. How depraved~ His lil hunter is certainly bringing out the worst of him, isn't she? Or maybe it's the best? It's certainly SOMETHING. And god, is it HUNGRY.

He looks back at her sleeping face as he licks his hands clean...

He should do this again~

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

FINAL for real this time: Davis (Juror 8) from Twelve Angry Men vs the Bimodal Distribution from statistics

Propaganda under the cut, and it's REALLY worth it:

Davis (Juror 8) (these are all from the single submitter)

a quick lil list babes, and I apologise for all of this in advance:

He's from the fucking film 12 angry men. like, aside from letterbox bootlickers and middle school hass students NO ONE has watched this film let alone care about it, it was made in 1957, is shot almost exclusively in one room and the entire film is just middle aged white men yelling at each other over whether some not white poor kid should be sent to the electric chair. what the fuck.

Henry Fonda, the actor, was 52 years old at the time of filming

Henry Fonda is the father of Jane Fonda, the woman who would revolutionise the 80's with her home workouts and her blindingly neon leg warmers.

His name wasn't revealed until the very end of the film and even then it's just "Davis."

I could honestly give him a lil smooch

He's absolutely not girlypop but he's the ally-iest ally who's ever allied

He's categorised as a "Benevolent Leader" on the Heroes Wiki

instead of the overwhelming urge for me to coddle him like most all other blorbos, i would appreciate it switched

I have a photo of him inside my saxophone case and sometimes i forget he's in there, then he creeps into my saxophone bell and when I play it he shoots out like a ballistic missile

Dude, on ao3 there's more fanfiction about the real life 80's British punk band The Clash than the entire film of 12 angry men, let alone Davis (80 fics come up under the clash, while 10 come up for 12 angry men)

I have a counter, and I've watched 12 Angry men a total of 145 times. The figure is up on my wall in tallies. whenever the number goes up, I like to watch it in 5's so then I can put another full group of tallies on my wall.

I have incredibly detailed stories about how Davis would boogie down to ringo starr's solo career, and they're written within the margins of a book called Tobruk written by Peter Fitzsimons. The only reason I reread that book is to wonder at my elaborate works of fiction

My HASS teacher was the one to introduce me to 12 Angry Men as he played it for the entire class. He gave us a set of questions to complete on the film and a few Law based questions as a little treat, and he expected it to be handed in the next day. What he didn't expect was an 11 page monster of a response that included social commentary, 4 paragraphs dissecting the character of Davis alone, deeply discussed comparisons between the landscapes of politics and law in the 50's to the present, and basically an entire point-for-point summarisation of the film, completed with obscure quotes from Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and Presley (Elvis). He presented the printed masterpiece in front of the entire class to shame me.

After class he explained how his favourite Juror would either be 6 or 5, because 6 seems like a big dumb teddybear and he just liked 5. I explained how I liked Davis because he didn't want to send a kid to die, then he told me how Davis would make a good cowboy (at this point in time I was unaware of Henry Fonda's role in Once Upon A Time in The West) and I proceeded to go home and write a 3 part orchestral composition that I could pretend would play as the soundtrack to Juror 8: A Cowboy's Tale or something like that

I had started to make an animation meme starring Davis but only gave up when photoshop literally deleted itself from my laptop

I didn't even hear that Juror 8's name was Davis when I first watched it in class, somehow I only heard it on my 6th rewatch but when I did I literally got so excited I literally got winded and cried a little bit, I had to take a panadol because I got so lightheaded

I have learned the musical motif that plays throughout the film on saxophone, clarinet, recorder, guitar, bass, ukulele, piano and trumpet

I have visions of him

One of Davis' 3 children HAS to be gay and nothing can convince me otherwise

honest to god I'd be a home wrecker if it came to him

I quote not only Davis but the film a lot, and sometimes in the dead silence of all my friends I go on about how the old man couldn't have possibly made it to the door in such a short amount of time to see the kid running down the stairs (because the old man has a limp, and Davis proved it my limping around the room, which I have to say was incredibly attractive of him)

He's literally an architect

I once had a dream where Davis was in my bass guitar case when I opened it, and i literally just picked him up and started picking him like a bass guitar until I tried to play a full chord and he bit the hand that was meant to be on the fretboard. I dropped him and he fell on his ass, and when I said "what the hell dude what was that for" he said bass chords are lowkey ugly to listen to, and since then i don't like playing bass chords because now they're lowkey ugly to listen to. before this ordeal, i enjoyed them, but alas

i once got my romantic partner to write me a davis x reader fanfiction as a birthday present

my parents believe that Davis is my first celebrity crush, and while they're actually wrong it's still actually so embarrassing they believe that because OH MY GOD it's literally JUROR 8 FROM 12 ANGRY MEN

I've attempted slam poetry about him

I've eaten a paper printed full a4 size photo of his hand

I would also not mind him to be literally my father, but given the rest of the things I've just said about him that's really weird and I recognise that

the Bimodal Distribution

First of all, it's a math concept. that is already pretty bizarre of a thing to be blorbo-ifying. Second of all, I don't know any calculus, and I don't consider myself a math person (because I hate arithmetic), but I really like this guy for some reason. I mean this graph clearly holds the secrets of the universe. don't you just want to l o o k at it . like you could solve everything in the world with that boy

[galaxiasgreen]

About Me

Hello everyone! My name is Green (she/her), I'm a Hufflepuff with a gremlin streak, and my hobbies include reading, writing, and collecting more books than I can read.

I primarily write humour, angst, fluff, and a bit of spice. At the moment all my work is Canon Character/ Reader OCs, who never have a name (only a nickname, no Y/N). I'm slowly working on porting everything over to tumblr, but you can check out the links to AO3 and Wattpad in the meantime.

As a quick note, I never copy game dialogue. Besides some iconic lines, all writing is original and entirely my own.

Tags & Info

My AO3 account and my Wattpad account have the most up-to-date archives of my work.

My writing (for all my fics and oneshots)

My oneshots (for all my oneshots not listed here)

My stuff (for all my fics, oneshots, game photos and posts)

Gibby | Prim | Missy | the bar girl (for specific characters)

ACVASverse (for all writing and posts relating to the stories set within the A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet universe)

Multi-Chapter Fics

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

In which, against the wishes of his staunchly pure-blood supremacist family, Ominis Gaunt befriends you, a naive Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and his life inexplicably changes. Or, what happens when a pure-blood from an anti-Muggle family falls in love with a Muggle-born?

[Ominis/Reader (Gibby), T-Rated, 127k, complete] A retelling-turned-original-story from Ominis’ POV that expands his role in the main questlines and beyond. Parallels his life story with relevant flashbacks.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, comas, trauma, blood/injury, grief/death, torture, magical prejudice/ racism.

[Tumblr masterlist] [Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

The freckled stranger has been visiting your pub for three months now, drinking to forget the worst times. You might be the person he needs to remember the best.

[Sebastian/Reader (the bar girl), E-rated, 19k, ongoing] A short series following a Muggle barmaid and the freckled stranger who visits her pub every night. Trigger warnings vary per chapter. Completely unrelated to the ACVASverse.

Tropes: angst/ drama/ romance, eventual smut, wizard x Muggle, different worlds, dark secret, Magic from a Muggle POV, oblivious to magic.

Trigger warnings: alcoholism, coarse language, non-explicit sexual assault, dementia/ Alzheimer's disease, blood/ injury, gendered language, explicit smut.

[Tumblr masterlist] [Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🐦‍🔥🍰Stay With Me

Garreth Weasley is good at Potions… and not much else. You, a bookish, lonesome Ravenclaw with a weighted family secret, are good at everything… except Potions. Assigned together for a mutual tutorship, Garreth is sure he won’t meet anyone more boring. But the potions lab isn’t the only place where sparks will fly.

[Garreth/Reader (Prim), T-rated, 111k, ongoing] A mystery-romcom following sixth-year Garreth Weasley when he is foisted a frosty and lonesome tutor hiding secrets of her own. Can be read entirely independently from ACVAS but does reference some of the events.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, fluff, tutoring together, grumpy x sunshine, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, pining, love triangle, dark secret, sworn off love, Everyone Can See It.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, blood/injury.

[Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🥀🔮Shelter of Our Night

After being released from Azkaban for the murder of his uncle four years ago, Sebastian Sallow finally sees his chance to start anew. But when ancient magic starts to corrupt you, the Hero of Hogwarts and his long-time crush, Sebastian and you must face the vengeful spirit of Isidora Morganach, discovering the hard way that the shadows of one’s past never really leave you. Most of the time, in fact… they bite back.

[Sebastian/Reader (Missy), M-Rated, 48k, ongoing] A sequel to the game storyline where Sebastian went to Azkaban and the MC absorbed the Repository – with a piece of Isidora Morganach's soul. Directly follows the events of ACVAS but can be read separately.

Tropes: angst/ drama/ romance, slow burn, mutual pining, lovers in denial, Couples Who Kill Together..., second chance, childhood friends-to-lovers, redemption, dark secret.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, trauma, grief/death, murder, blood/injury, non-explicit smut.

[AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🦡✨Troublesome and Unladylike

In which, your life changes twice in quick succession: the first, when you discover you have magic, and the second, when you meet an enigmatic blind Slytherin.

[Ominis/Reader (Gibby), T-rated, 45k, complete] ACVAS from the Reader's perspective, with all original content and much lighter tone. Recommended after ACVAS, however you can read it separately.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, hijinks and shenanigans, Muggle culture, Magic from a Muggle POV, canon rewrite.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, comas, trauma, torture, magical prejudice/ racism.

[Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

Commissioned Art

👗❤️‍🔥 Garreth & Prim in Potions/ at the Valentine's Ball for Stay with Me [Lyworth]

💥⚡ Sebastian, Missy and Isidora Fight for Shelter of Our Night [yoshitsuno]

🖤🍺 Sebastian at the bar from this hell we create [FlamboyantJelly]

Thanks for checking out my work. You can support me by reblogging and/ or commenting, which are hugely appreciated 💚

[Last Update November 2024] Banner and divider credits: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-]

[fanfics4all]

Shock Collar

Request: Yes / No Thank you @badthingshappenbingo​ for my card! 

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Oliver Queen x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 2317

Warnings: I think the title is a warning in itself, but shock collar, burns, being tortured. 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

  It was a bright and sunny day and I was spending the day at the park with William. Olliver was working as Green Arrow right now. I knew he didn’t want to put William in danger, but the city needed a hero and that’s exactly what Oliver was. It took William a while to accept Oliver as the Green Arrow, but he eventually did. It took him being saved, and yes he was put in danger still after that, but Oliver would always save him. 

I was reading a book while William played soccer with some kids when my sunlight was suddenly blocked. I looked up confused and we met with a man in a suit that I’d never seen before. 

“Can I help you?” I asked and he smiled. 

“Possibly, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” He asked and my eyes widened. 

“Who are you?” I asked closing my book. 

“A friend of Oliver Queen.” He answered and smirked. My heart skipped a beat and I realized the danger far too late. He grabbed me and I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with a wet cloth. I struggled as best I could, but he was much stronger than me. It wasn’t long before I was going limp and my vision was fading to black. 

*Oliver’s POV* 

Felicity and I were looking for Diaz, but haven’t gotten any hits. I always hated leaving William and Y/N since he’d already gone after my son before, but I needed to find him. 

“It’s like he’s a ghost Oliver.” Felicity said and I sighed. 

“I know…” I said, running a hand down my face. My phone started ringing and I saw it was William. 

“Hey buddy, what’s up?” I answered. 

“Dad! Y/N was taken!” He said, panicked. 

“What?” I asked, sitting up straighter. 

“We went to the park and I was playing soccer with some friends, but when I looked over I saw someone carrying her and she wasn’t awake.” He said. 

“William, I need you to tell me exactly what he looked like.” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. 

“He was wearing a suit and he had short black hair and a dragon tattoo near his ear.” He answered and my blood ran cold. 

“Diaz…” I whispered. Felicity shot her head over and looked at me with wide eyes. 

“Dad, is Y/N gonna be okay?” He asked worriedly. 

“She’s gonna be fine buddy. I’m gonna call your Aunt to pick you up okay?” I asked. 

“Okay.” He answered. 

“I’m gonna bring her home buddy, but you’re gonna stay with Thea for a bit until I do, okay?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Just bring her home, please…” He begged, it sounded like he was crying now. 

“I will I promise.” I said and hung up. I quickly called Thea and asked her to pick William up and explained what was going on. 

“Felicity, Diaz has Y/N and we need to work fast.” I said and she nodded. 

“What park were they at?” She asked. I thought for a second, I didn’t ask William, but I knew her favorite park. 

“I didn’t ask, but her favorite park is the one near Mario’s.” I answered and she nodded. She started hacking into the camera to see if she could see anything. 

“Got it!” She said after a few minutes. I looked over her shoulder to see Diaz putting her unconscious body in a van. He looked up at the camera and smirked. He knew we would find it… 

“Did he just…” 

“Yes.” I growled. 

“Smug bastard.” She said and tried to zoom in on the license plate. 

“Shit, he took the plates off.” She said and I groaned. Of fucking course he did. My phone rang and I looked over to see a blocked number calling me. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Oliver Queen! I’m assuming you’re little tech friend found the footage already and you saw me with your precious little Y/N.” Diaz said with a smirk. 

“If you do anything to her I swear I’ll-” 

“You’ll what? Kill me? Let’s face it Oliver, you wanna do that already.” He said and laughed. 

“What do you want for her.” I growled. 

“Giving in already? I thought you’d last a little longer.” He chuckled. 

“Diaz…” I growled. 

“I want you dead, Oliver. You’re in my fucking way of owning this damn city and as long as I have Y/N you’re gonna do exactly as I want.” He said and I growled. 

“You fucking touch her and I’ll kill you!” I said and he chuckled. 

“You’ll have to find me first.” He said and hung up. 

“Felicity tell me you go a location for that!” I said as she clicked the keys. 

“Not an exact, it was bouncing between towers.” She said and I threw a glass at the wall. 

“We need to find her now!” I shouted. 

“And we will, but you need to calm down.” She said and I sighed. I knew she was right, but this is my wife we’re talking about. 

*Y/N’s POV* 

I woke up with a headache and my wrists chained to a pole. Once I got my bearings and my head settled a bit, I attempted to escape. Unfortunately that only resulted in my wrists being raw. I sighed and slumped against the wall and just waited. 

After some time I heard the door open and looked up to see the man that kidnapped me. He had a smirk on his face and his hands were behind his back. 

“Glad to see you awake, Y/N.” He said and I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“Who the hell are you?” I asked. 

“Well don’t you have a mouth on you.” He said and pulled one of his hands in front of him. It was a set of keys. 

“I’ll unlock your wrists if you’re a good girl.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“Who are you?” I asked again. 

“Ricardo Diaz.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“Ah so Oliver’s talked about me, how sweet.” He said. 

“W-What do you want?” I asked and silently cursed myself for stuttering. 

“I want Oliver out of the picture. And with you here, he won’t be worrying about the other stuff I’m doing.” He said. 

“Now, let’s get you out of these cuffs, hmm?” He asked and walked towards me. I eyed him suspiciously, because why the hell would he let me out of the cuffs without a catch? He knelt down and smiled at me. He placed the keys on the floor next to him and I furrowed my brow. He pulled his other hand in front of him and my eyes widened. It was a fucking collar. He quickly grabbed my hair and pushed the collar onto my neck. I tried my best to keep away from him, but he was stronger and locked it around my neck.

“What? You didn’t actually think I would just unlock the cuffs without a way to keep you under control, did you?” He asked and chuckled. He picked up the keys and unlocked my wrists. I pulled them to my chest and gently rubbed the raw skin. 

“Now, be a good little bitch and you won’t get hurt.” He said and I glared at him. 

“Tell me where your little husband’s hideout is.” He said and I scoffed. 

“Like I would ever tell you.” I said, sneering at him. He smirked and reached into his pocket. I felt a painful shock shoot through my neck and I screamed in pain. It stopped after a few seconds and I looked up at him in horror. He pulled a remote out of his pocket and smirked. 

“Like I said, be a good little bitch and you won’t get hurt.” He said, waving the remote around. 

“Now let’s try this again. Where is Oliver’s hideout?” He asked. 

Hours later I was laying on the floor with my tears staining the concrete. The pain was intense and I was trembling uncontrollably from the aftershocks. 

“Where is Oliver’s hideout?” He asked again. I didn’t even have the strength to answer anymore. I just laid on the floor, gasping for air and letting the tears fall to the floor. Every part of my body hurt from the electricity running through my system. I was surprised I hadn’t passed out yet. There was a soft click and my whole body started to convulse again. I screamed and withered on the floor, my throat already raw the screams were almost silent at this point. It felt like it would never end, but about a minute later the collar stopped. Diaz let me recover again before shaking his head at me. 

“Come on Y/N, Oliver Queen can’t be worth all this.” He said, crouching down to my level. I took a deep breath and looked up at him. 

“Oliver is ten times the man you’ll ever be…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head and sighed. 

“You’re not getting it.” He said and pressed the button once more. I screamed as the electricity made its way through my body. The pain was becoming more and more unbearable. I felt every single muscle contracting, my teeth clenching so hard it felt like they might break, my eyes rolling to the back of my head again. Finally, the collar turned off again and I laid there gasping for air. Diaz looked down at me with anger and annoyance. 

“You’re fucking stubborn huh?” He said and stood up. 

“How about I make you a deal?” He asked and I weakly looked up at him. 

“You tell me what I want to know and I promise that once Oliver Queen is dead, you and William will be safe. I won’t do anything to either of you, hell I’ll even make sure the two of you are protected.” He said and my heart clenched at the thought of William. There’s no way he has him too, right? 

“What’d you say, Y/N? Deal?” He asked. 

“Screw you…” I said, voice still nothing more than a whisper. He sighed and pushed the button again. 

“Have it your way.” He said as I screamed in pain once again. 

*An hour later* 

There was a loud bang and Diaz looked at the door behind him. We heard shouting and gunshots. Oliver. He looked back down at me and growled. 

“Thought it would take him longer to find you.” He said, annoyed. He cracked his neck and pulled a gun out of his pocket. 

“I’ve got something to take care of, for once be a good little bitch and stay put.” He said and left the room. I could hardly move as the aftershocks slowly stopped. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was flinching because of the shocks or the loud gunshots. I couldn’t focus on anything so I didn’t notice when it grew eerily quiet. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps rushing closer to me that I realized. I tried to move, but I was so weak. I felt my eyes slowly closing as my body finally got to relax. I heard the door open and someone saying my name. I couldn’t make out who it was, but I felt them pulling the collar off and lifting me into their arms. I faded to black as someone carried me away from the cell. 

*Oliver’s POV* 

I sat next to Y/N as she laid in the hospital bed. She had electric burns on her neck and her body was incredibly weak. The doctors said they were shocked that she was even breathing with how much electricity she had coursing through her. They said it would take a little while, but she would be okay. Diaz was lucky he was already dead or I would strap that fucking collar to his neck until he was dead. 

Y/N’s hand twitched and I shot my head up to look at her face. She stirred slightly and slowly opened her eyes. They quickly closed again and she groaned. 

“Y/N? Honey?” I asked and she slowly opened her eyes again. She looked over at me and her eyes widened. 

“I-Is this real?” She asked in a whisper. I nodded and grabbed her some water. I held the straw up to her lips and she gulped half the glass down. 

“Thank you.” She said, her voice still weak, as I placed the water back down. 

“You shouldn’t thank me. I’m the reason this happened to you…” I said, gripping her hand and kissing her knuckles. 

“But you saved me.” She said with a small smile. 

“You can’t keep getting put in danger because of me, Y/N.” I said with tears in my eyes. 

“Oliver, I knew the risks when you told me. I also told you that you wouldn’t be getting rid of me no matter what. This is no different.” She said and I let a tear fall. 

“Look at you. You were fucking electrocuted because of me! I should have never gone back to this life…” I said and she gently lifted my face to look at her. 

“You’re a hero, Oliver Queen. Everyone in the city needs you to stop people like Diaz.” She said and I shook my head. 

“You and William are more important the the city.” I said and she smiled. 

“Is William okay?” She asked and I nodded. 

“He’s fine, he’s with Thea.” I answered and she sighed in relief. 

“Thank God…” She said and slowly closed her eyes. 

“Get some rest, I’m not going anywhere.” I said and kissed her hand.

“I love you…” She whispered before she fell asleep. 

“I love you too honey… I promise I’ll protect you next time…” I whispered and held her hand a bit tighter.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @lovelywordsblog @slytherinlyn13 @liz-owl @bruisedfists-and-splitlips

[personwithatophat]

Tophat notices a tiny insignificant detail and rants about it

im nothing if not a theorist of the people. Anyways! if i only have a week left to make TSE theories then why dont we break down something a bit less chatted for! The Posters! most of the posters have cool details to them, or theory potential that doesnt quite break the records but has more then a few times been evidence to theories so why not just do a formal breakdown of them now. this ones got a lot of pictures Ep 3 poster

couple of basic things for this. a concept thats used for alot of Gen 1 is the use of red and green. in this case its red and green light on his legs. it can also be seen on the TFC promo photos for 'Again', the Ep2 trailer, a handful of different scenes, and also on other posters! the other thing cool about the ep 3 poster is how its a direct mirror of the last and first time we see The Hero.

this was the first time we see The Hero from its similarly named youtube promo piece, and at the time there was even theory that he has blood on his hands. Ep 2 poster

The ep 2 poster, im actually here for the posing. its the beginning warehouse shot, but awake and staring off into the middle distance. I have a theory that this image is actually ranboo in idle. We see on a few occasions that actors or employees not in use get 'paused' in place where they can be managed by the production team and dont really perceive time passing. But at the start of every episode we also see ranboo coming out of idle from TV static. The VHS player in the cabin turns off and ranboo wakes up, the TV Puzzler uses turns off and he wakes up, Hetch's several screen pointing at where ep 2 ends, its a consistent case. ranboo thinks that TSE happened over the course of maybe a day and a half, not over the course of a week. The ep1 trailer shows ranboo staring blankly at the TV in the cabin and i think this poster is the same thing. Ep 1 poster

this poster is a bunch of cool tiny details wrapped together and i love it, this is the poster i own. so heres four cool things 1- hes facing the 4th wall but looking directly away from it. 2- this flashlight is on set but he never uses it, instead during the show he shines it in his eyes between audience choices in the basement several times. 3- its designed to look weathered, spirit of the cabin was based off of old horror and its designed like its been sitting in an attic for 50+ years. 4- on the website the poster is right but on physical copies charlie is credited as "Smilecicle" VHS

im deciding to count this one which is on the genloss twitter, based on how even if its not for purchase, this is a poster. its weathered like the Ep 1 poster, and incorporates green light beaming from it on the ground like other works. All of the posters are representative of their episodes but also show direct changes or discrepancies. For Ep1, there was never an involvement of the flashlight. Ep 2 started by him waking up instead of straight from idle. The Ep 3 poster has him standing idle as the final showing instead of restrained (which was actually made into finished concept art before getting scraped to avoid poster spoilers). And finally the founders glove in the poster is more visually appealing in red but the first time we see the founders collection the gloves were black. Least to say, attention to detail is cool and so is @kertoir who made all of this. Theory Time Before Founders Game!! -Tophat p.s. the list of VHS codes is still being updated daily on my page and i plan to continue that :)

[johnnystorms]

avengers twilight!steve, on regrets, memories and tony stark. written post-avengers twilight #002. stevetony.

Steve has a lot of regrets. Tony—not the real one, the best friend he lost on the day he lost everything, but the one he keeps in his head, his mind’s best attempt at a ghost of the person he misses most—says that’s inevitable, living as long as Steve has.

C’mon, Cap, he says, smiling that way his Tony used to: eyes as bright as the future he was always talking about, everything in him shining. Or maybe that’s just how he looked to Steve, young enough back then to not yet have blinked the stars from his eyes. You live long enough, you run the risk of anything outweighing the good memories. His smile fades, not enough to disappear, but to become something smaller, quieter. Tinged with something requiring care. Do me a favour, handsome. Try not to let that happen to you.

Steve doesn’t like disappointing Tony Stark, not even the one dreamed up inside his head, but he thinks it might be too late on that front.

If someone asked for a list of regrets, he’d have to give that wry, hoarse laugh that makes him sound as old as he feels, and say, Nobody has time to listen to all that. If someone had asked Tony, he’d have a breathtakingly clever quip or an outpouring of guilt, depending on his mood, and who had asked. If it had been Steve, maybe both. Matt would have thought about it, long and hard, and disappeared to a confession booth. Peter – Jessica – Logan – Carol – all of them, he thinks, would have their own laundry list of hauntings, justified or otherwise.

That’s the name of the game, he thinks. You have to take the wins for what they are, but it doesn’t make the losses any lighter to bear. Steve’s posture isn’t what it used to be, even with the Defenders’ replicated super soldier serum in his veins, but his shoulders were shaking under the crushing weight of all his mistakes long before his age caught up to his body.

Janet isn’t here anymore to ask, but he doesn’t know what she’d say. It’s not that he thinks she has no regrets—even outside of the hero business, that’s a tall order for anyone—so much as that’s not how he remembers her. When he thinks of Janet van Dyne, he thinks of her deft fingers readjusting the lapel of the suit she designed and Tony cajoled him into; he thinks of her tinkling laugh almost being swallowed up by Thor’s booming one, the two of them bent double at the disgruntled expression Clint was shooting their way one golden night back when the world knew what heroes were meant to be; and he thinks of her clever, smiling mouth, and the way nobody could ever resist smiling right back. Steve had been no exception.

He misses it so fiercely it burns. Jan’s smile and Thor’s relentless steadiness and even Peter’s terrible jokes as he chased the Human Torch around the city. Carol’s quick fists and Jessica’s quick thinking and Natasha’s quick draw, and the time the three of them had a punch-up contest with the Thing that ended in an exasperated Tony footing the bill to the city and Johnny cackling as Sue dressed down Ben for his part in it. Luke’s laughter as he slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder and Jessica Jones taking photos of the two of them and Logan and Bobbi in the corner, trading tales of Hawkeye’s Greatest Hits: Indecent Exposure edition.

And Tony—always, always Tony. The press of him against Steve’s side, a reassuring line of heat, like, hey, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not cold anymore. You have a team. You have me. His tired eyes and easy smile and razor-sharp wit, even half-dead on his feet. The late nights where Steve coaxed him out of his lab with a hot drink and the promise of conversation, the early mornings where Steve would wear a worried frown and say, you should really sleep more, Tony, and Tony would grin at him and say, and give up these early mornings where you bring me coffee and those big blue eyes of yours? Never, and Steve would sigh, but there would be something fond tugging at the corner of his lips, and Tony would look all pleased with himself, animated in a way no caffeine fix could ever cause, and Steve would want—

Steve swallows.

You’re drifting, baby. It’s Jan’s voice, that classic combination of fond amusement and concern that Clint used to perk up at being addressed with and Tony used to call the van Dyne special, all those years ago. God, Steve misses them all. He aches with wanting. You’re drifting. Bring it back home, Steve. Start with the most important bit. Let’s take it from the top.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore. It is not a new fact, a new thought, but every time, it hits him like a concrete block to the ribs.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore, but Steve Rogers breathes in, and thinks about it anyway. Take it from the top. The most important things.

How the tables turn, Tony says. He’s the only one Steve keeps. All his other ghosts flit in and out of his head, coming and going like the tides, but Tony is the forever haunting. The only one his mind holds onto on a permanent basis. D’you remember, oh, all the way back near the start -- one time you asked me if it got exhausting, thinking so much.

Steve remembers. Steve has never forgotten anything Tony Stark gave him, be it physical or a vow or just the smallest memory that wasn’t intended as a secret but became one in Steve’s desperate hands. The world has taken so much from him, from all of them, ever since H-day. He can’t talk about Tony, because what if the world takes that from him too?

How the tables turn, Tony says again, soft in that way most people didn’t believe Tony Stark could be. Steve knew, though. Steve’s always known. You look exhausted, Steve. Don’t let it be so big. Just -- right now, right at this moment. What’s the call, Cap?

That was what Tony had said that day, Steve remembers. The world was on fire, and about to become a whole lot colder, and they didn’t know that, didn’t know anything about what was to come, just that this was it, this was the moment, this was the do or die, and Tony had stood at his shoulder, the armour a familiar comfort against Steve’s side, and asked, What’s the call, Cap?

An itemised list of all of Steve Rogers’ regrets would take too long, and a ranked list of all time would be impossible to decide upon when Steve has such a long memory and even longer history.

So, in its stead, Steve thinks, he’ll give Tony the right now.

STEVE ROGERS’ TOP THREE REGRETS RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT, 0142HRS, DEC 31 20XX, COUNTING DOWN:

3. Rosa. He’d deserved the slap. He’d deserved a lot of things, really. He’d had good years with Rosa; years of her no-nonsense love, of her careful hands, of the way she looked at him in the quiet of the night with all the warmth their little home could hold, like she still saw something worth believing in him. Maybe she did. He thinks she probably did. His wife was a lot of things, most of them good, but above all else, she was never a liar.

He’s sorry he blew up her life. He’s sorrier about that than the fact he blew up their life together, but that’s always the way it goes with him, isn’t it? There’s nothing he’s felt he had to keep more than the shield. It’s not that they matter less to him—God help him, but it’s not about the love. There’s never been a lack of love—but to his bones, to his core, he’s always been the guy who wants to stand up and help. If the fight needs to be had, he’s going to stand there, fists up, no matter who he is, no matter how old he is. No matter how super he is.

He knew that about himself a long time ago. Maybe if he’d stopped pretending that had changed, Rosa wouldn’t be stuck here now.

2. It’s a little one, in the scheme of things, but it also feels more important than almost anything else at this moment. He wishes he’d touched Matt, that last time they saw each other. Gone are the days where Steve would clasp his friends by the hand, something lost to time and loneliness and gradually brittled bones, but he wishes desperately that he’d clasped his hand to Matt’s shoulder one last time. Just a moment. Just enough for some phantom warmth on his palms, a tangible ghost of Daredevil, not just something dreamed up by his mind in the moments when losing almost everyone he’s ever trusted is insurmountable.

1. He doesn’t know where to begin with this one. H-day. The way it went down. Peter bleeding out in front of him. James Stark growing up without his parents, the best of them both twisted into something Steve can’t look at directly without feeling hopeless, helpless. Clint’s arrow snapped in half, a crater where the Thing should be. His last sight of Reed Richards, stretching further than he’d ever seen before as he reached out desperately towards his wife. Tony’s voice in his ear: what’s the call, Cap?

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? His biggest regret. This one, he suspects wouldn’t change even if it was an all-time list. Tony Stark, the vibrant, blaring truth of him. Something Steve misses so desperately that when the world forced him to live without him, he made up a version of him to keep in his head forever.

It’s more similar to #2 than he thought. He has so many regrets, and so many of them are about Tony Stark—about that day, about missing people, about loving people and losing them because of the fight, whether they were lost in the fight or he left them behind to join it—but more than anything, he thinks he misses the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, pulling him in close, arm going around Steve’s shoulder to draw him into a hug.

I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, Tony says, years ago, so far away from this moment that it might as well have been another world, and Steve, old and jaded and lonely and tired and missing the person he loves best so fiercely it aches in his lungs, thinks, You and me both, Tony. You and me both.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

-

(When the dossier falls open in front of him, with a blueprint of a tank and photos of him—photos of Tony, and even Tony in pieces makes Steve ache with something he thought had long been buried—spill out, let’s get it from the world’s smartest man, Tony Stark echoing in his ears—

Steve, for a moment, wants to throw up.

Then his jaw sets.

All right, Tony, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’s addressing the ghost in his head, or the one in the tank, or some nebulous third thing, a Hail Mary thrown to the universe, some last passage of faith he thought he’d forgotten. What’s the call? You and me. That’s the call. I’m getting you out of there.

I’m bringing you home.)

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 4 | Revengeful Eyes

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY

Notes: Why even listen to myself when the post button exists? Did a poll and here we are now yaay.

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @aristenfromwarsaw

Astarion and Tav arrived at the grand ball, turning heads as they entered the room. Astarion was dressed in a finely red and black tailored jacket and trousers.

Everything about him was perfect, including his partner.

His eyes scanned the crowd with a confident air. Tav was wearing the red dress that Astarion had made for her, the fitted silk red dress with a slit up one leg and draped sleeves that accentuated her figure.

Tav excitedly clutched Astarion’s arm as they made their way through the crowd of guests. Many of them were nobles or rich families with influence. Some even recognized Tav and gave their respects.

It feels weird to be somewhat of a town celebrity.

Tav wore her hair down and adorned with beads and jewelry. She noticed she didn't look like anyone really. From her wide-set pale eyes to Tav's rounded features, she not only looked different but acted like it too. Of course, the ballroom scene was completely foreign to a girl who grew up in the woods.

Astarion twirled Tav around, eyeing every curve the dress hung off of. He was proud of his work. Both dress and spawn, are crafted so beautifully.

“Over there, see the couple in the corner?” Astarion chimed, nodding towards a noble couple near the throne. “That’s a noble couple from Waterdeep, super rich and political. Word has it they’re quite the swingers, if you catch my drift.”

The gossip was hot, steamy even. Astarion knew so much about people who knew so little about him. It was great.

Tav’s eyes widened in shock, practically breaking her neck to get a glimpse of them. “Really? I had no idea,” she whispered with a gasp.

Astarion chuckled. “There’s a lot you don’t know about these nobles, my dear. But don’t worry, social climbing could get you worthy blackmail information on dirty royalty names.”

"I bet." Tav scrunched her lips to the side, "Have you been making any moves? I know you wanted to grow influence, but I'm not sure if world domination is really worth it...Look what happened to the Netherbrain."

"Tch, it'll be all worth it when we can control everything. Think about it, to live freely with anything at your fingertips. Just say the words and it'll be yours." He then glared down at Tav and halted, "You think people will treat you fairly when they know what we are? Blood-sucking monsters."

A monster. Is this what he thinks I am?

Tav shook her head, "That's not true - we're heroes! They'll accept us."

His voice dripped with sarcasm, "Love, please. You act like you've been a vampire for 200 years. Not everyone is like you, so stop being delusional."

Astarion's arms crossed over his chest, his fingers tapping impatiently against his biceps. He let out a loud, exasperated sigh, "I'm doing this for us. This conversation is now over." He pitied and hated her delusional optimism.

Just then, a woman in a black gown caught Astarion’s eye. She was tall and slender, with brown hair that cascaded down her back in waves. She walked between the couple before presenting herself to Astarion, her eyes filled with intrigue.

The woman faced him with a sly smile, not even acknowledging Tav. “Well, well, well,” she teased. “If it isn’t Astarion himself. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what have you heard?”

The woman leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know who you are, Astarion. And I know what you’re capable of. I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed. “Go on,” he tilted his head, intrigued.

"Not here." The woman's blue eyes fell on Tav with a dismissive look, "And not in front of her."

Astarion eyes met with Tav's and he nodded, "Amuse yourself, I'll be right back."

Tav furrowed her brows. Why couldn't she be there? What did this woman want and what did she know? "But -"

"I said make yourself amused." Astarion cut her words before excusing himself, walking to the furthest corner they could find.

Tav felt a tinge of jealousy as she watched Astarion walk away with this random attractive woman. She couldn’t help but feel left out, but she knew better than to interfere with Astarion’s propositions.

Tav was standing alone near the spiked punch bowl and it was crowded with fancy-looking people all trying to impress each other. She held her cup out in front of her with uncertainty.

Why would he not allow me to stay? She's really pretty too. What the fuck.

Tav was completely zoned out, frozen, and barely blinking between her rapid thoughts.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her arm and a warm, confident voice, “Let me help you with that.”

It was a man, tall, fair, with sharp features, and long brown hair. He poured the punch into her cup, his movements steady and confident. Tav listened to the sound of the liquid filling her cup, and then his eyes locked onto hers with a wry look, “Are you here alone tonight?”

Before Tav could answer he had already continued, "If so then what a damn shame. To leave a lady like you alone to fend for herself." He rolled his eyes.

huh?

"To fend for myself...? What the hell are you talking about?"

A questionable look crossed his face, "Aren't you blind?"

Tav’s eyes widened as her lips parted with a shocked scuff. “I’m not blind,” she said with extra emphasis on the 'not'.

Clearly embarrassed, his started stumbling over his words in desperation. “I-I’m soo sorry,”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that your eyes… they’re so pale, and I couldn’t help but notice you were spaced out.” Again, his eyes seemed to lock onto Tav's as he brought his face closer, inspecting her white irises. This time, it made her heart race from his prying eyes, this random stranger.

Tav lifted an eyebrow in surprise, feeling her cheeks flush at his sudden attentiveness. “Oh,” she said softly. “Well, thank you.” She took a step back.

Should I even be saying thank you right now?

The man smiled and shook his head, still looking sheepish. “No, I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’m Ross, by the way.” He reached out and took her hand in his, shaking it gently with a warm smile.

Tav glared at him with uncertainty, but she tried to relax a little. “Nice to meet you, Ross,” She could feel the warmth of his hand in hers, and she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was.

She snapped out of it and pulled away her hand with a tug. Tav stared at Ross one last time before turning a heel and walking away.

"Wait - !" Ross followed Tav and waved his hand, "You never answered my question."

Tav stopped mid-stride and turned her head. He huffed out a breath and smiled at her, again. "Are you here alone tonight?"

Plainly, "I'm not."

"Ah - same. I came here with my sister. She seemly disappeared somewhere in the crowd though." Ross looked in the crowd and then, he saw her.

His face faded from concentration into a smile, "There she is. Over there in the black dress." Ross pointed to a woman.

It was the same woman who had walked away with Astarion.

Okay. Now I'm interested.

"Is that so...Is there a reason why you guys are attending tonight's party?" Tav looked back at the woman and then back to Ross. They resembled each other’s sharp features.

Ross shifted uncomfortably under Tav’s gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly. “No specific reason, like everyone else of course. Just a guy looking for a good time.”

Tav stared at him questionably.

Ross gasped at the realization, "In good company and conversation I mean! N-Nothing else, I promise."

He mumbled under his breath, "Shit, I know that didn't sound right."

Tav chuckled to herself as he crumbled in front of her. Ross seemed like one of those gentle giants, very friendly with a heart on his sleeve.

“I - uh, never got your name?” Ross finally managed to ask.

Casually Tav spoke, "Natavia. But everyone calls me Tav."

“Tav?” Ross’s eyes widened in recognition. “Like the hero of Baldur’s Gate Tav?”

Tav chuckled softly at the comparison. “More or less…”

"Wow - It's a pleasure! I knew something was different about you. I could tell you hold weapons. A bow is it..?"

"How'd you know?" Tav tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in comparison.

"I could feel the calluses on your fingertips, especially your middle finger."

"What! Really?" Tav quickly shot up her hands and stared hard at her fingertips with a flustered face.

Ross was right, there were many little indents between her skin and she looked up at him with a shocked expression. Why have I never noticed this?

"It's not a bad thing. I'm sure you're very skilled at it, killing the netherbrain and all, little hero."

"Little?" Tav scoffed, feeling a little defensive but entertained.

Ross playfully waved his hand from side to side with a chuckle. "Just in height." He joked with Tav as if she were a long-time friend. It was weird but also felt nice. It wasn't often Tav really got to make new friends under Astarion's watch.

Finally, from across the room, Astarion's eyes landed on Tav, who was chuckling with Ross. Astarion’s gaze immediately turned cold and devilish, and Tav noticed the change in his expression. She turned her head to look at him, and their eyes met.

Shit.

Tav’s laughter came to an abrupt halt as she met Astarion’s gaze. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she saw the look on his face. It was as if he was sizing her up, analyzing every inch of her. Tav crossed her arms and huffed in annoyance.

This is so stupid. He couldn't be mad at me when he was the one who left to talk to some random girl.

Ross watched Tav with confusion. He matched Tav's stares with Astarion and he spoke up, “Is everything alright Tav?” he said with a forced chuckle.

Tav rolled her eyes, “It's just my boyfriend, he's being moody.”

Ross’s face fell at Tav’s words. He looked genuinely shocked with wide eyes. He scratched his head nervously and tried to laugh it off. “Oh, I see,” he said weakly, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I had no idea..."

Ross began to nervously swallow and wet his lips between exchanged words. Almost as if what Tav said really uneased him.

Strange.

"I take it you're not a local From Waterdeep." Ross's words snapped Tav out of her head and she shook her head 'no.'

"I'm from a remote village way South of here, but I live in Baldur's Gate if that's what you meant...What about you?"

Ross nodded, listening to her smooth voice, "I'm from a tribe, but I've moved on from sheltered woods, my home is in Baldur's Gate too. Me and my sister, Rosaline, been moving around lately."

"Oh, why?"

Ross chuckled, the look in his eyes seemed panicked, but his body language remained relaxed and loose, "Just looking for what sticks…So! If you’re ever looking for someone to talk to back home, I’m always at the Blushing Mermaid. It’s lika second home.”

Astarion’s frown deepened as he watched the exchange between Tav and Ross. But he kept his emotions in check, hiding them behind a cold, impassive mask. He knew that he couldn’t let his feelings get the best of him in public.

He completely left the woman, Rosaline, to herself as he made his way over to Tav.

Astarion pulled Tav close to him, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. “Tav,” he teased, his voice low and husky, “Let us dance.”

Tav looked up at him, surprised but pleased. “Of course, Astarion,” her eyes crinkled with a wry smile.

Astarion glared coldly at Ross as he led Tav onto the dance floor. Ross returned the glare with a dirty look of his own. But Astarion had no time to worry about Ross now, as he pulled Tav close and rested his hand on her waist.

As they began to waltz around the room, Astarion couldn’t take his eyes off of Tav. He admired her beauty, her grace, and the way she moved with him, apart from Tav's occasional missteps. But even as they danced, Astarion couldn’t shake the feeling that Ross was watching them. And every time he caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, he felt a twinge of anger and resentment.

Who the fuck is this guy.

I'll give him something to see.

Determined to claim Tav’s attention for himself, Astarion stopped dancing and pulled her into a deep kiss. He bit down on her lower lip, causing it to bleed. When he pulled away, Tav winced as she touched her bottom lip and stared at her bloody fingertips.

Her eyes glossed over from the sharp pain, and she stared at Astarion in disbelief. Why would he do something like this now?

“I’m sorry,” Astarion clicked his tongue, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. She didn't know how to feel - embarrassed, upset, special, or seduced? She wasn't sure...maybe a mix of it all.

Before Tav could reply, he had already sucked the blood off her bottom lip shamelessly to whoever watched.

From the corner of Astarion's eye, he could see Ross in the near distance behind Tav, shaking his head with a disapproving face. He reveled in this moment of dominance, and mentally laughed at this random stranger who seemingly stared at Tav a little too much.

That serves him right.

The night continued and Tav could only smile and wave every time she crossed paths with Ross that night. Though it always felt a bit strange considering his sister, Rosaline was always attached to his hip, arms crossed and eyes that were like she was trying to cipher out a code with each movement they took. It was uncomfortable.

ROSS'S POV

Rosaline nudged Ross’s side with her elbow, “Why do you keep looking at them.” She shot him a questioning glance, her eyes searching for answers.

Ross pulled away from Rosaline, his brows clearly in an annoyed furrow, “Stop it.” He shifted his gaze away, avoiding her stares.

“You’re so annoying.” Rosaline brushed him off with a cold shoulder. “Did you at least get any good information out of her?” She then crossed her arms.

“Does it really matter?” Ross avoided making eye contact with Rosaline.

Tav, this new hero stuck with someone like him. Poor girl.

“Yes. it does fucking matter.” Rosaline’s voice rose slightly. She was just above a whisper with anger seething out her lips.

But Ross stood firm and calm, “Listen, Rosaline…We should really just move on from this.”

He didn't want to cause a scene so publicly or have anyone overhear them arguing.

Rosaline shook her head in disbelief and her eyes glossed over with disappointment, “I can’t even believe you right now.”

She scuffed, “Are you fucking serious - Tell me you’re fucking with me right now...”

Ross's voice went soft slightly as he sighed, “No. There’s innocent people involved in this and they don’t deserve to be.”

“What - the girl? Who cares, some innocents were taken from us!” She continued to lash out at him in an angered whisper. “He stole our brother - He was just a child, we all were! If you feel so damn heartfelt for them then maybe it should’ve been you!” The air hung heavy and her pain was palpable.

“It just feels wrong.” Ross’s voice wavered slightly, uncertainty creeping into his head.

“You have no loyalty, you’re despicable.”

“I do have loyalty.” Ross’s voice hardened, and he finally stared back at his sister with anger in his eyes.

Rosaline had a face of nothing but disgust for her brother, “Then act like it.”

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

CHARACTER SPREAD-SHEET

TAV, ROSS, ROSALINE

I made this with Artbreeder to try and visualize these new characters as I write and wanted to share. These siblings are so gorgeous AHH.

LOOK AT TAV. breathtaking. But I imagine her with locs, which are kinda visible? AI is not perfect but it's a pretty good generalization of her :') Ross reminds me of Flint Rider.

But a little cliffhanger. I wonder what they're talking about? Hmm. See ya next week

[ih3artreggie]

ANNALATIONS is in session!

verse 9:99 – "kaito saeki is the goat"

i don't think many people know about one of my bestest friends in every single one of my drs – kai saeki, otherwise known as Nine (for reasons to be explained). Allow me to introduce him...

inspired by macknshift!

originally, kai was only in my loric dr. if you're familiar with the lorien legacy series (which i doubt you are), he IS number nine. just a normal guy!... so normal............ anyways, regardless of normality, he was my favourite character in the lorien legacies series #4EVER and i thought 'why not script him in'! he makes everything 10 times more fun.

the most recognisable dr you'd find him in is my f1 dr, although he is a part of my big three – fame, marauders, AND f1.

in my F1 DR, kai is a pro surfer in the world surfing league, and was an olympic silver medalist at the tokyo 2020 games (praying for the paris 2024 gold!). we met because we were both red bull athletes, and #traumabonded over it

in my MARAUDERS DR, he's in slytherin and plays as beater for the quidditch team (he is really good at knocking people out. in a good way!!!...). he's #enemies with sirius, and unknowingly on regulus' hit list (aren't we all?)

in my FAME DR, he's a friend from uni who is currently a middle school teacher and football coach! riveting stuff

...and in my LORIC DR, he's an alien with superpowers and a penchant for violence. what's new!?

i'm not joking when i say i've been obsessed with this man since 2019...................................... it's okay! i'm so normal. anyways, over the course of those five years, i've struggled with finding a suitable fc for him (this is a recurring problem you will notice with me). in my f1 dr, his career is hugely inspired by kanoa igarashi, who is in the photos above.

the current fc i use for kai is takahiro yaguchi (below). i felt like i'd seen a glimpse of heaven when i found him [sniffle].

MORE KAI FUN FACTS!! (specifically f1 dr related)

he's japanese american, and competes under the japanese flag despite being born in chicago

he's competed under the number 9 since he started surfing professionally, which is why people call him nine as a nickname. in the WSL, he's synonymous with his number – the same number i use in f1

lived in chicago for the first few years of his life, and then moved to huntington beach for surfing

he has a brother that's 10 years older than him named tadashi

when kai saw big hero 6 in cinemas he had to get up and leave when tadashi died in the movie because he couldn't stop crying and thinking of his brother 😭 (he was 15)

he's like. 6"4. NEEEEEVER lets it go. or lets me forget. it is hard to forget with him looming over me

the two songs that remind me of him the most are BOOGIE by brockhampton and tell me by wonder girls, the latter being my ringtone for him 😏 (he hates it)

HE HAS A REALLY BAD RESTING BITCH FACE 😭😭😭😭

he has so many tattoos that he's lost count of them. the one i like the most is 'born to ride' which is across his shoulders. it's sick

he is the most sun safe person i've ever met. he is never outside without sunscreen

i think that's all......... honestly i just wanted to yap, so expect a regulus related post coming your way soon!

this has been episode 1 of annalations, so i hope you enjoyed! catch you on the next one...

[consanguinitatum]

David as Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing (the first time he did it, that is!)

David Tennant fans are aware of 2011's brilliant Much Ado About Nothing, in which DT starred as Benedick, alongside Catherine Tate as Beatrice. Filmed at the Wyndham's Theatre in London and directed by Josie Rourke, the production was recorded and offered on Digital Theatre.

But did you know David had played Benedick before?

Yep - he sure has!

It was in 2001, a full decade before his production with Catherine.

Beginning in 1999, BBC Radio 3 launched Shakespeare For The Millennium, an ambitious project to dramatize seventeen Shakespeare productions in four years.

The project was done in collaboration with BBC Worldwide, which emphasized it wanted to take a contemporary, innovative approach to the Bard. It launched on 12 September 1999 with a Shakespeare discussion panel, and a new production of Hamlet -- starring none other than Michael Sheen as the Dane!

On 23 September 2001, BBC Radio 3 broadcast a new production of Much Ado About Nothing as the Sunday Play, with David in the lead role as Benedick and Samantha Spiro as Beatrice. Adapted by Sally Avens, it featured an introduction (as had all the previous productions in the Shakespeare For The Millennium series) by Richard Eyre, the former Director of the Royal National Theatre.

The production also starred a few other recognizable names. There was Chiwetel Ejiofor as Claudio, Emilia Fox as Hero, David Swift as Leonato, Julian Rhind-Tutt as Don John, and David Haig as Dogberry.

All original music was composed and performed by Simon Oakes and Adam Wolters.

Radio listings and announcements, and promo photos of David and Samantha Spiro

Here's a review of the prodcuction!

Much Ado About Nothing was commercially released by BBC Worldwide as part of the BBC Radio collection series in 2001.

The sleeve notes of cassettes and CDs of the production include a scene-by-scene synopsis, a full character analysis, and an essay on interpretation from the director Sally Avens.

Almost four years later, in November 2005, BBC One broadcast a television series called ShakespeaRe-Told, a set of four adaptations of Shakespeare's plays. Each play was adapted by a different writer, and all were relocated to the present day.

The first to be broadcast - on 7 November 2005 - was a modern-day version of Much Ado About Nothing starring Sarah Parrish and Damien Lewis...and Billie Piper and Nina Sosanya and Olivia Colman!

You can watch it here:

Six days after this television broadcast - on 13 November 2005 at 7:15 pm - BBC Radio 3 re-broadcast the audio version starring David and Samantha in its 'Drama On 3' slot.

Fast forward to August 2020.

The BBC released a set of four BBC Radio Shakespeare collections: Histories, Comedies, Tragedies, and Roman Plays. Much Ado About Nothing was included in the collection of Comedies, and became available as an Audible digital download.

If you want to listen, you can find this collection a lot of places. It might be at your local library or on Overdrive, on Google Play, or as an Amazon Audible book.

Or, ya know, just go here: