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monster-effer · 5 days ago

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Baldur’s Gate 3 Player x LaDS headcanons 🎮

Summary: My headcanons on how the LaDS men act in a BG3 campaign with the you, the reader. Content: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (separate), very silly, Caleb and Rafayel being chaotic, gn!reader, no reader pronouns mentioned, multiple and major Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers throughout (1.1k wc) A/N: A brainworm or mind flayer parasite entered my head at 4 pm on Saturday and has not left since. This is for my fellow DnD, BG3 and LaDS lovers!

Xavier – you never made it out of Act 3 because he couldn’t help but fall asleep to the OST and white noise once you reached Baldur’s Gate

Set-up: console, couch co-op Difficulty: Balanced, he wanted a little challenge but was ultimately here to chill with you Race: Half-elf Class: Paladin or Cleric of Light Time in Character Creator: 1 hour, he liked reading through all the origin character descriptions but decided to build a custom character instead. Then read over all the different race and subrace options.

He really enjoyed looking around the Nautiloid ship in the opening act.

He tried to read every book and note he came across in the game for the lore.

Xavier served as your guard dog throughout the campaign, especially if you played as a magic user.

He got jealous at the flirty lines the companions threw your way.

“Xav, these are not real people they are pixels.”

“…so, do you like me or Halsin more? You haven't answered me yet.”

And he almost had a heart attack when Harleep offered themself to you in the House of Hope.

He really enjoyed Wyll’s company and made sure to reserve a space for him in your party.

Regularly got lost despite the in game mini map.

When Jeremiah asked to join your campaign, Xavier told him “No.”

Zayne – you made it to the end of Act 3, but it took months and months due to your busy and conflicting work schedules

Set-up: console, couch co-op Difficulty: Balanced Race: Human Class: Wizard who favored frost damage Time in Character Creator: 30 minutes, he made the most basic custom character and spent the majority of his time choosing a class

Zayne was mainly interested in completing the main quests in the beginning. But he changed his mind after completing the quest to save Mayrina from Auntie Ethel.

He was in a passionate bromance with Gale and developed a personal vendetta against Mystra because of it.

He desperately wanted to befriend Gale’s cat, Tara.

“Tara is lovely, please tell me I can have her as a companion.”

“I’m afraid you cannot, unless you’re playing as Gale.”

His anguish was loud in the silence after.

He also became a big Shar hater after progressing through Shadowheart’s personal quests.

He was NOT a fan of Astarion. But, after learning about his past then destroying Cazador together he begrudgingly tolerated him in the party.

Zayne was flabbergasted – to say the least – when he met Malus Thorm in the House of Healing. After you walked in on this “doctor” mutilating an innocent patient in his care, the frost wizard showed no mercy.

He silently judged Volo for his “scientific research,” especially after you agreed to his offered eye surgery.

Zayne usually does not care much about fashion over utility when it comes to armor, but you noticed he did not take off the Wavemother robe once you obtained it as a quest reward.

Sylus – you made it to the end of Act 3

Set-up: PC, usually online multiplayer but couch co-op when you visit his base Difficulty: Tactician (specifically for enhanced enemy tactics and increased long rest supply threshold because Sylus is a loot hoarder) Race: Dragonborn OR the hottest Seldarine Drow you’ve ever seen Class: Barbarian fighter multiclass who can attack 4 times a turn Time in Character Creator: 45 minutes

Your playthrough started out with just you and Sylus. But you created a separate save for when Luke and Kieran wanted to play as a full customized character crew.

Sylus REFUSED to cheese fights with you, instead he preferred to strategize heavily like y’all were going to war.

“We are clever enough to win without the help of bugs sweetie.”

Sylus initially liked Raphael because they both enjoyed making a good deal.

But he changed his mind when he witnessed the chess game scene in Last Light Inn.

You two somehow breezed through saving all the prisoners, Duke Ravengard and Omeluum from the Iron Throne.

He had a soft spot for Karlach but who didn’t?

If Sylus chose to play as the Dark Urge, he immersed himself in a redemption arc because he was all too familiar with resisting strong urges.

He wanted to adopt Mol and her band of misfits so bad.

Rafayel – you’re currently in Act 3

Set-up: PC, online multiplayer Difficulty: Explorer – you’re both here to have a good time, not struggle 🤷🏾‍♀️ Race: The prettiest elf/half elf OR tiefling you have ever seen Class: Rogue assassin that dual wields daggers OR Bard that uses Vicious Mockery often Time in Character Creator: 1 hour, he chose race based on aesthetics but got trapped by the customization options

His character has a crazy amount of charisma points and could persuade their way through any encounter.

He gleefully chooses the sassy/deep cutting dialogue options.

Consequently, you two end up in plenty of unnecessary fights but it is chaotic and fun.

Rafayel was downright frightening on the battlefield once he tried out multiclassing. IMO he would love the Gloomstalker Ranger + Assassin Rogue build.

He was fond of the Underdark section in Act 1. So much so that he produced a few paintings depicting the sussur tree and members of the Myconid colony.

He got the both of you obliterated by Vlaakith when he questioned the legitimacy of their alleged godhood in the githyanki creche.

As you both sat in silence staring at the “game over” screen he chuckled then whispered, “No regrets cutie.”

He was enamored by Orin’s outfit. So, you immediately stopped playing to find an armor mod to download.

Caleb – you’ve completed 3 campaigns together

Set-up: PC, switch between couch co-op and online multiplayer Difficulty: Honor Mode (rip) Race: Half-orc or Dragonborn because he thinks they look sick™ Class: modded gunslinger class that dual wields firearms🔫 Time in Character Creator: 20 minutes, you’re both veterans at this

He is the most chaotic force in the game outside of the netherbrain and Orin’s shenanigans.

Caleb ALWAYS saves Scratch and the owl bear cub just to watch their camp interactions. He also summons Scratch to come along with y’all on your quests throughout Faerûn.

Without fail he roasts Gortash every time he is introduced.

“Are we sure that he is the ‘handsome’ younger man everyone has been describing because…”

Caleb unironically loves Lae’zel and relishes exposing her to the truth about Vlaakith.

He volunteered to turn into an illithid this playthrough.

Caleb has memorized various strategies to get through the Gauntlet of Shar while you’re still fighting for your life during the Faith Step Trial.

Gideon along with the legion of Caleb’s friends have begged for an invite, but he always finds a way to keep it as an activity for just you two ♥︎

A/N: Also feel free to leave your takes on which race/class/mods each LI would choose in BG3 or any RPG!!! I want to nerd out in my comments/DMs ♡

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xislyns · 3 months ago

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could you please do some headcanons for benn beckman? 🙏

UGHH OFCCC i love benn sm , i actually have an upcoming mini fic containing beckman and other men in the works when writing asked this 😭, im sorry if there are typos . i wrote this during a study break 🥹🥹

BENN BECKMAN HC'S

op masterlist : 𐙚🧸ྀི

another note : this became longer than i expected 😭

HOW YOU MET

• i feel like meeting benn must be by a random encounter, when the red haired pirates had stop on your island. you were by chance walking in town. you were busy with your own errands when you noticed him leaning against a post, observing everything with a sharp yet relaxed look. Something about his quiet confidence drew you in. He noticed you too, nodding in acknowledgment as if he already respected you without even knowing you.

• The first time you talked, it’s because of a shared moment of curiosity. you were asking him about his crew, or he’s curious about something happening on the island you live on. The conversation is smooth and comfortable, leaving you both feeling like you’ve met someone reliable.

YOUR RELATIONSHIP

• Benn isn’t overly expressive like a certain red haired pirates we know.. , but he keeps an eye on you at all times. Whether it’s keeping an eye at the small of your back in a crowded place or his intimidating glare at anyone who dares to bother you, he protects you silently to him, actions speak louder than words.

• When you get angry or upset at something he did or the lack of it, expect him to know how to make you feel safe without being overbearing. When you’re upset, he doesn’t push you to talk or solve the issue right there and then. but he stays by your side, waiting for you to talk it out with him when you’re ready.

• Actually benn being as smart and strategic as he is, i feel like he would love debating with his you. He loves when you can challenge his views, instead of just nodding along and following with it. He finds it as something new and both frustrating and endearing when you are able to outsmart him in a battle of wits.

HOW DOES HE SHOW HIS LOVE?

• Benn would show his affection by subtle but caring gestures Benn shows his affection through small actions,offering you his coat when it’s cold, remembering the little things you like, or quietly helping things that he knows you cant do alone.

• His smiles are rare but reserved just for you. When you successfully make him laugh, it feels like you’ve won a victory in your book.

LIFE ON THE SHIP, AFTER YOU CAME

• The crew would love teasing Benn about how you’ve softened him. Despite his objections and grumbles, he secretly enjoys the way you’ve become a part of their family

• Late night conversations become the light of ur relationship, Benn often stays up late keeping watch or reading. You’ll find yourself sitting with him under the stars, sharing quiet moments or deep talks about life, dreams, and the future you will have together

CONFLICTS & RESOLUTIONS

• You and Benn occasionally clash over his protective instincts. He worries deeply about your safety, while you wish he’d have more faith in your ability to take care of yourself. Despite the tension, these disagreements always end in mutual understanding. he learns to respect your independence, and you have come to appreciate that level of care from him.

• Benn isn’t one to easily share his feelings. At first, it was hard to tell how deeply he cared about you, but over time, you learn to read the subtle ways he shows his love. Eventually, he grows more comfortable opening up to you, even if it’s just in his own ways.

TENDER MOMENTS

• When you’re hurt or sick, Benn is always ready to take care of you. His hands are steady as he bandages your wounds, though his eyes betray his worry. He’ll quietly scold you for being reckless, but his soft kiss on your forehead afterward tells you everything you need to know.

• Benn isn’t really one for PDA , but in private, he’s incredibly tender. He loves pulling you into his arms, resting his chin on your head, or simply sitting with you in comfortable silence.

• Even in the middle of a battlefield , you and Benn share a connection that doesn’t need words. He can sense when you’re in trouble and will make his way to your side, always ensuring you’re safe before he focuses on anything else. you are his priority.

BENN BECKMAN SUPREMACY 🛐

#fanfic #anime #x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #benn beckman #benn beckman x reader #headcanon #head canon #one piece fanfiction #asks open #answered asks #send asks #send me asks

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anistarrose · 1 year ago

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I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, then there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

#accessibility #image descriptions

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redroomreflections · 3 months ago

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Paint It Black Chapter Seven

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R aren't friends

W/c: 3.9k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

The car was too quiet. The sound of tires gliding along the pavement of I-95 was barely a whisper.

In the backseat of the large sedan, Natasha blinked slow and groggy. Her head leaned against the cool window, hair splayed against her forehead and a faint line of condensation where her breath had touched the glass. She attempted to orient herself.

It was still night. Or was it early morning? It was too dark to tell. Natasha was vaguely aware that the car was moving, and the driver seemed to be navigating. But where were they going? Natasha closed her eyes again. She was so tired, but she forced her mind to review the details of the last few hours, the last few days.

"Hey, are you awake?" You whispered from somewhere beside her.

Natasha opened her eyes again, this time blinking at you. She sat up straight, her hand twitching toward her side instinctively. No weapons. No harness. No blindfold. From what she could see, you looked different. Dressed in a simple black zip-hoodie, pleated plaid skirt, and a pink backpack at your feet. You sat with perfect posture, eyes trained forward, and hands folded neatly in your lap like you’d always known how to be still.

“Morning,” you said. Your voice—no accent. Just pure, effortless American.

It was jarring.

Natasha blinked again. “Where—”

“We’re almost there.” You kept your tone light, like girls on a school trip. “It’s not far. Do you want the briefing now or once we’re inside?”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to the front seats.

The man driving looked mid-40s, tall, clean-shaven. Sunglasses. The woman in the passenger seat had cropped hair and flawless skin. She tapped something on a map and didn’t look back.

“They’re with us,” you murmured. “Their names for this mission are Ken and Karen. I know.” You smirked a little, almost like it amused you. “They do black ops usually, but Dreykov wanted them on this one. You’ll be playing my best friend from boarding school. Your name is Lizzie. You’re here on vacation with my parents for spring break.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “Why Lizzie?”

“Because you look like a Lizzie,” you said simply. “And because someone already took Emma.”

You didn't smile, but there was a glimmer of humor in your voice. Something that sounded almost like an inside joke.

Natasha's mind reeled. It had been so long since she was outside the Red Room's walls. And she had never been to New York City.

You turned your head slightly, watching the highway pass by. “We’re staying in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. Karen has documents in her bag—IDs, school transcripts, letters from ‘friends’ back home. Our goal this week is to observe and record. Target details will come after dinner. First, we act like normal kids.”

Natasha studied you. Your voice. Your confidence. You sounded like a girl from Connecticut, not a girl raised in shadows.

“Have you done this before?” she asked.

You nodded once. “Yeah. A few times.” A pause. “It’s been a while, though.”

The man driving glanced at you in the mirror. “We’re one hour out.”

Natasha didn’t have to ask what that meant. The change was immediate.

You leaned into the seat, your expression relaxed. The lines on your forehead softened, and you slumped your shoulders just a bit.

She wasn't ready for this mission. She barely understood the objective.

But you did.

*****

The revolving doors spun you into a quiet lobby of marble and air conditioning. The lobby was sleek and minimalist as if it were designed not to be remembered. The floors were polished and reflected the soft yellow lighting from above. There was a citrus smell wafting in the air. It certainly wasn't the most expensive apartment building in New York, but it beat the Red Room any day. You walked over to one of the couches, your backpack slung low on your shoulders, as you plopped onto the soft cushions. You grabbed last month's cover of Seventeen Magazine and flipped through it curiously.

Natasha stayed a step behind, shoulders relaxed but alert. She wore a light hoodie and sneakers, her hair tied back like any twelve-year-old on a family vacation.

At the front desk, Karen leaned forward with a practiced laugh, chatting with the doorman as she lived there. Because she did, she’d been building this life for months. Ken stood nearby, keys in hand, nodding like a man who’d just flown back from a conference in San Diego.

The doorman greeted you like old friends.

“Glad to see you back, Mrs. Porter,” he said.

“Thank you, Paul,” Karen replied warmly. “This is our daughter Emma and her friend Lizzie. They're back from boarding school for the week. Girls, say hello."

You glanced up from the magazine. You gave a polite wave. "Hi, Mr. Paul."

Paul smiled kindly. He looked at Natasha. "I hope you have fun this week, Miss Lizzie."

"Thank you," she said.

The elevator dinged.

As Karen and Ken stepped over to it, Ken glanced meaningfully at the suitcases. “Ladies?”

Natasha moved to grab two of them. You didn’t budge.

Karen turned sharply. “Emma,” she said—your alias. “What did we talk about?”

You blinked slowly like a teen dragged into something you didn’t care about. “Ugh, fine.” You tugged a small bag half-heartedly.

Natasha didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance in Karen’s eyes before the mask slipped back into place. The act mattered. Every detail. Every look.

Inside the elevator, you leaned casually against the mirrored wall while Natasha stood beside you, bags in hand.

“You’re good at this,” Natasha said quietly.

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

There was a pause, which felt too big for the space you were in.

“You sound different,” Natasha added.

You gave her a sideways look. “You mean American?”

“You sound like someone else.”

You smiled—but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"Isn't that what we are?" you said.

The doors opened with a soft chime.

Natasha felt a strange weight on her chest, and she wasn’t sure what it meant.

*****

The penthouse was massive—three bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of Central Park that stretched out like a painting. Natasha had never seen anything like it. Everything gleamed as if it had never been touched, as if the air was filtered and expensive.

The kitchen was fully stocked and spotless. The master bedroom had a tub big enough to swim in. It didn’t feel like a safe house. It felt like a life that didn’t belong to people like you.

Karen and Ken disappeared into the study with the equipment they had retrieved from the suitcases, already arguing in that quiet, clipped tone adults used when they didn’t want the kids to hear. Natasha couldn’t make out the words, but she caught the edge in Ken’s voice, the way Karen’s jaw tightened before she shut the door.

You turned to her, all casual, all ease. "Come on, I’ll give you the tour."

You opened doors like a game show host, voice light, but a little too rehearsed. “Living room, obviously. That’s the TV. The couch is for show—it's terrible. Kitchen’s stocked with fake healthy food.”

Natasha followed silently, watching your body language more than your words. You weren’t bouncing like you usually did. Your shoulders were a little too tight. She wondered if you noticed those things about yourself. Were you as self-conscious as her?

"My room's here," You opened the bedroom door. There was a queen-sized bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and a dresser. The closet was half-full, and the bathroom was spotless. If someone was looking, it would look lived in, but not by you.

"You can have this one," you said. "It's closest to mine."

Natasha watched how your fingers twitched at the edge of the door, the subtle way you held your breath like you were waiting for her to notice something.

She stepped inside. "I'll take it."

There was a brief flicker of surprise in your eyes.

"We can do whatever here in the week," You said.

"Like what?"

"Sleep. Read. Whatever." You shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like none of it did.

Ken’s voice echoed faintly from the study, low and impatient. Your jaw clenched for half a second before you smoothed your face again.

“You okay?” Natasha asked.

You looked at her. Not surprised. Just tired. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Natasha didn’t answer. She just nodded once and glanced across the hall towards your room.

"So, how close of friends are we supposed to be?" she asked.

"Close enough to have sleepovers." You shrugged. "But not so close that we're in each other's rooms all the time."

"That's specific."

"I have a reputation," you replied with a slight grin. "I'm popular."

Natasha snorted.

"It's true," You insisted, still grinning.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m sure they cried when you left.”

You laughed softly, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Neither of you said anything after that. The conversation hung for a moment too long, like a thread someone forgot to snip.

Neither of you wanted to keep it going. Natasha crossed her arms and leaned against the wall outside her new room. You shifted your weight, folding your arms too, mirroring her without thinking.

That’s when Karen appeared in the hallway, her tone clipped, mission-focused. “Girls. Living room. Ground rules.”

You straightened, all business, all roughness.

A switch was flipped, and the mask was on.

Karen glanced between the two of you. Her expression was neutral. "You've met before. So I'll keep it short." She held out her hand. "I'm your mother for the week. Ken is your father. This is our vacation house."

"We know," You murmured.

"This is your first time here," Karen continued. "So there are ground rules. We are only on the top floors of the building. Only the four of us have access. If the front desk calls, I'll pick it up. Don't answer unless it's an emergency."

"We're not babies," You said.

Karen's eyes flickered dangerously. "Excuse me?"

You froze.

There was a tense silence that made the skin prickle and the bones shift. Karen had the same stare as the handlers in the Red Room, who could break the strongest girls just by looking at them.

“I don’t care if you don’t like each other. You don’t have to hold hands, but will not draw attention. Got it?” She continued.

“Yes, ma’am,” you both muttered.

Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Louder.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said again, in unison this time.

Just then, Ken passed through the room. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even look at you properly. Just a glance—calm, indifferent. His eyes paused for a beat too long on you, then flicked over Natasha, unreadable.

Then he shut himself in the master bedroom without a word.

Karen didn’t look surprised. Just sighed. “Don’t bother him unless you’re dying. And even then—make it interesting.”

She turned and left, leaving the two of you in silence.

Natasha stared straight ahead.

“Popular, huh?” she said eventually.

You didn’t even turn to look at her. “Undeniably.” You stood to head to your bedroom, leaving Natasha sitting on the couch.

She didn't move for a while. Simply sat with her hands in her lap and her back straight. The apartment was silent, and the skyline was starting to brighten.

It was going to be a long week.

*****

Manhattan Mall was like an amusement park for teens—loud, crowded, glittering. An endless tableau of shopping bags, neon signs, and smells wafting from food courts. Every corner promised something new: ads of 30% off, arcade machines, and the smell of cinnamon pretzels. You and Natasha trailed behind Karen as she guided you from store to store under the excuse of buying “more American clothes.” In truth, it was cover practice. Exposure. It was an opportunity to be seen acting normal, just in case anyone came looking. Just in case the mission went sideways.

You’d never really been shopping, not like that. Your idea of the outside world was fragmented and distorted, filtered through observation windows, briefing folders, and missions that always came with conditions. You’d been shopping before—but always alone, always focused, always with purpose. Never with other girls your age. Never like that.

Natasha didn’t seem nearly as phased. She flipped through the racks like she’d done it a hundred times before, and this was just another normal Tuesday. Karen, meanwhile, kept her distance, eyeing a few racks but never really looking.

You padded up to a rack of jeans and hoodies, fingertips brushing against the fabric. You tried to memorize the colors, the smells, the buzz of the mall around you. Tried to chase the fading, blurry edges of something you weren’t sure was ever real.

You’d been taken when you were four. Four-year-olds remembered things. You should have remembered things. Like your mother’s hair. The tone of her skin. The sound of her voice. What it felt like to be held. What kind of clothes she wore?

But you couldn’t. Not really.

And no matter how hard you stared at the sea of strangers in the mall, no one looked like they might’ve come from your memories.

You'd been taken from a mall like this one. That's the only thing you remembered. One minute, you were riding on a carousel or maybe something else.

The next, your face was pressed against a stranger's shoulder, and you were screaming.

It was all a blur now, but the memory of the scream was clear. It was a scream from the deepest, darkest part of your gut. The type of scream that made your throat raw. The kind of scream no one heard. You wish you remembered more. Memories would help.

"Do you want that shirt?" You heard a voice next to you.

You blinked, glancing up to see Natasha a step away. Her arms were folded, casual, a little bored.

You blinked, realizing you'd been wearing the same sweater too long. You let go. "No, just looking."

"It's nice," Natasha said.

"Yeah," You agreed.

"You should try it on," Natasha suggested.

You hesitated. You were supposed to be practicing. Supposed to be making decisions like a girl your age.

"I have too many," You said. "Besides, it's not my color."

Natasha studied you. She didn't ask any questions. Didn't push or pull. She simply nodded, then wandered away.

You stood there a moment longer, the noise of the mall coming from all sides. You felt something rise in your chest—something cold and lonely.

"Emma?" Karen appeared suddenly, a bag in her hand. "Let's go. Time to check out."

You blinked. The feeling was gone. "Okay." You moved to follow her but instead turned back to grab the hoodie. She would buy it for you. And you would wear it.

That's how things were done.

Karen took her time paying, and Natasha drifted through the aisles, picking out random things she thought looked interesting. When you finished, the three of you walked out.

Karen turned her wrist to glance at her watch. "It's 3:15. You have 45 minutes to do whatever you want."

"You're not going with us?" Natasha asked.

Karen shook her head. "I have errands to run. Be back at 4:00 sharp."

"Yes, ma'am," you and Natasha both said.

And just like that, she was gone.

You and Natasha walked out into the main corridor.

*****

You walked in silence at first, not knowing what to say to each other and not wanting to look too much like spies. It was strange to think this was your first time speaking to Natasha outside the Red Room.

You passed the arcade.

The glow of neon signs spilled out into the hallway with pulsing reds and blues and greens, the chime of digital prizes, and the crash of video game explosions clashing like some chaotic symphony.

You slowed. Just barely. But Natasha noticed.

She glanced at you, then back at the arcade. “You wanna go in?”

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

She gave a little smirk. “Why not? Afraid I’ll beat you at something?”

“No,” you said too fast. “It’s just not part of the mission.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Karen said we could do whatever we want.”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t used to… whatever this was. Making decisions. Having options. Freedom—even if it was pretend—felt like a trap.

Natasha bumped your shoulder with hers, just a little. “Come on. It’s not a real mission without a little recon.”

You frowned but didn’t stop her when she veered toward the entrance.

And after a second, you followed.

Only to keep her safe.

Natasha exchanged her dollars, which Karen had given her, for coins. Then she walked over to a machine with a yellow fish with colored ghosts.

You watched her curiously. She slid a coin in and started moving the joystick, pushing the button. You didn’t get the appeal. It was loud and crowded. Pac-Man, the screen said.

You stood behind her, arms crossed, watching the little yellow circle gobble dots across the screen. It made no sense—chased by ghosts, only to chase them back when they turned blue. She didn’t look like a killer. But her fingers were fast, sharp, practiced. Like everything else, she did.

“Ever played before?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the game.

You shook your head. “No.”

“It’s not hard. You just keep moving.”

You didn’t say anything. You were too busy watching the ghosts close in.

She lost a life and groaned. “Wanna try?”

You glanced around the arcade. No one was paying attention. No one was watching. Still, you hesitated.

Natasha moved aside. “C’mon. It’s not gonna bite.”

You stepped up. The joystick was a little sticky. You slid a coin in and started the game. For a moment, you were just a girl chasing lights. Then, two ghosts came from opposite ends of the screen, and you panicked, running straight into one.

“Okay,” Natasha said, suppressing a laugh. “That was bad.”

You scowled. “I didn’t know they could corner me like that.”

“They’re not real, you know.”

“I know.” You huffed.“I just didn’t like it.”

Natasha smiled—not smug, just amused. “You wanna try something else?”

You looked around. “What’s that one?”

She followed your gaze to a flashing game with two plastic guns attached to the front. “Time Crisis,” she said. “Now that’s more your style.”

You didn’t smile. But you stepped forward.

And this time, you didn’t hesitate. You were in the zone,

A row of zombies flashed on the screen, and you fired without hesitation, moving side to side, reloading, taking down wave after wave.

"You're pretty good at that," Natasha said. You nodded, way too in tune with the video game. This was nothing like real life. No pain. No consequences.

This was something else.

You didn't stop until the round ended. The timer flashed, and you relaxed.

Natasha studied your face, and you knew she was analyzing your every movement, looking for a flaw.

"Not bad," she said.

You didn't smile, but a part of you felt lighter. "Thanks."

"You don't know how to be a kid, do you?"

"Of course, I do," You raised your chin in challenge.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," She said. Before you could argue back, a boy approached you. He was about your age, sandy brown hair, light eyes, and a blue hoodie on his back. His eyes went straight for Natasha.

"Hi," he said, "I was watching you play, and I just wanted to say it's really impressive."

"Thanks," Natasha replied.

"How do you get so good at games like this?"

"Practice," You murmured.

He smiled at her, not hearing. "You want to go a round together? I'm a total noob, so it would be nice to have someone to play with."

Suddenly, you felt something. A shift, low and heavy, like your stomach had dropped and forgotten how to climb back up. It wasn't anger. Not exactly. It was a quiet irritation that settled in your chest like static—hot, uncomfortable, and impossible to shake off.

You watched as Natasha tilted her head slightly, her lips twitching like she might smile. She didn’t say yes. But she didn’t say no, either. And that was enough to make the feeling sink deeper.

You stepped aside, arms folded tight across your chest. Not because you wanted to make room for him. Not because you cared. But because standing there suddenly felt too loud, too much.

She could play with whoever she wanted. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t.

But it did.

You hated that it did.

*****

After a while, you got bored watching Natasha and this boy flirt. So you went for a walk, not venturing too far away from the arcade, only wanting to clear your mind. Natasha was a big girl, and she could figure it out. A perfume store was just up ahead, and you wanted to smell the scents. You weren't interested in the subject, but you were all for new experiences.

As you entered the store, a saleswoman looked up and smiled. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"Just looking," You answered, glancing at the rows of glass bottles.

She smiled again. "Sure. Let me know if you have any questions."

You nodded politely and wandered the aisles, reading labels and sniffing samples. Some of them smelled good. Some of them were too strong or downright terrible. People didn't wear perfume in the Red Room. That wasn't the point. It was a luxury you'd never thought of before.

You wandered quietly between the shelves, fingers grazing the curves of glass bottles. The store clerk was busy helping another customer, so you didn't feel so suffocated. Then you picked it up.

Giorgio.

Giorgio Beverly Hills.

The scent hit you before you even sprayed it—something about it was already in the air like it had been waiting for you. One sniff, and your nose filled with something warm. Something familiar.

Your chest tightened.

It wasn’t just perfume. It was something else. A memory, half-formed and blurry. A woman, maybe. Arms around you. The soft brush of fabric and the faint scent of this very thing clinging to her neck. It filled your head so completely that, for a second, you weren’t in the store anymore. You were…somewhere else. Somewhere you couldn’t reach.

You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear hit your thumb.

You glanced around. The saleswoman was busy chatting near the register now. You didn’t know why you did it—but your hand moved quickly, almost without thought. The bottle slipped into your hoodie pocket.

You didn’t plan to leave with it. You didn’t even know what you were planning. It just felt like something you couldn’t leave behind.

You turned to go, brushing past a display of body lotion, when a sharp voice cut through the store like a wire.

“Hey! Excuse me—what did you just put in your pocket?”

Your stomach dropped.

You froze.

“I saw that,” she said, stepping closer. “You need to give that back.”

You didn’t think. You just moved.

You grabbed the nearest thing off the counter—a sample spritzer—and tossed it to the display like you were swapping it out. “Sorry, thought this was mine,” you lied, already backing toward the entrance.

But she didn’t buy it.

So you bolted.

The perfume bottle thumped once against your side as you ran. The woman shouted something after you, but you didn’t stop to hear it. You ducked out of the store, pushed through the crowd, and didn’t stop until the arcade was in sight again. Your heart was racing. You could still smell the perfume clinging to your wrist.

It smelled like home.

Whatever that meant.

*******

Later that night, the penthouse felt too big.

Natasha lay in her new bed, wondering if she should get the cuffs in her suitcase to help her sleep as she thought about the day she'd had. Across the hall, your door was closed. Had been since you got back. No words, no explanation. Just the sound of you retreating behind it and not coming out again.

She didn’t get it.

One second, you were laughing with her over stupid hats and cinnamon pretzels, and the next—it was like you’d flipped a switch. Cold again. Distant. You didn’t want to be near her, like she’d done something wrong without knowing what. She hadn’t even talked to that boy. Not really. Not like that. And it wasn’t like any of this was real anyway. She wasn’t supposed to care. That was the rule. The mission came first, always. No attachments. No friends. Especially not girls like you, who looked at the world like you didn’t trust it to stay.

But she did care. And that was the problem.

With a sigh, Natasha climbed out of bed in hopes of getting a glass of water. She hadn't heard any rule about leaving her room, so she supposed she could come and go as she pleased. When she went to open her door, she found Ken, standing right outside of yours. His hand was on the doorknob, and she couldn't tell if he was coming or going.

"Sir," she said, unsure what to call him. He didn't even know her name, so she was unsure what to call him.

"You should be asleep."

"Couldn't," she lied. "Did I miss the meeting time?"

"No, no," he waved her off. "I'm just checking in."

She frowned. "I think y/n is asleep."

"Right, right." He took his hand off the knob and backed up. "Good night."

She watched him carefully. "Good night, sir."

Then he disappeared into the darkness, and Natasha was left standing there.

That was strange.

But then again, so was this whole operation.

She shut the door, not wanting to get too caught up.

She wouldn't realize until later this night, and the ones to follow would change the both of you.

-----> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #red room #paintitblackau

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winwintea · 9 months ago

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stop posting about BALLER - zhong chenle

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

GENRES ↬ pure crack idk... fluff, romance, some angst if you look in between the lines, chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ inspired by a fic i read on ao3, a tiktok i watched where op got mad at their boyfriend for having headphones in while making out, plus my post here. and also chenle's recent fanboying activity in la. ignore the title its a placeholder for now, in honor of my dear friend @syatchy london stop writing for chenle challenge

WORD COUNT ↬ 1.3K

Everyone had their hobbies. You knew your boyfriend liked basketball, you just didn’t realize he liked it that much.

Making it your life’s goal to win over the heart of Zhong Chenle, you spent countless hours studying quizlet flashcards, watching a couple of basketball games, even trying to learn the sport as well. Although you were surprised when it didn’t take more than a few dates for you to begin dating.

Your best friend Ning Yizhuo, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“I just think he’s a big red flag. Who the hell puts “I’m always ballin’” as their twitter bio?” She’s sprawled across your bed, mindlessly stalking your boyfriend’s social media accounts. “What if your man loves another man more than he loves you?”

You’re paying her no mind, working on a basketball basics test on your laptop. Eight teams from each of the league's two conferences qualify for the playoffs. The top two teams play each other in the conference finals, to determine the Conference Champions from each side. The winners then play in the NBA Finals.

Yizhuo suddenly stands up, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you ignoring me?” You’re about to answer your next question, until she starts waving her hands in your face.

“What the hell, Yizhuo?” You turn around annoyed. “I was locked in!”

“Studying for basketball is crazy… Just warning you Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when your boyfriend calls you Stephen Curry’s name instead of your own.”

You punch her in the shoulder, “I swear to god-”

But Yizhuo seemed unfazed by your attacks, continuing on, “I’m just saying from experience hon. Sports guys like him will never love you as much as he loves his balls.”

“Um.. that’s what she said.”

—

Despite Yizhuo’s warnings and what she seemed so sure of, you and Chenle clicked in a way that none of your exes ever did. If he invited you to the gym, you’d show up with a yoga mat, pretending to do Pilates while sneaking glances at him bench pressing. If Chenle said he was hungry, you’d learn how do use a frying pan, determined to whip up something edible. And if he asked you to come over, you’d throw on your best outfit, adding an extra touch of appeal, and never forget to bring a treat for Daegal.

Spending time with Chenle was easy. It seemed almost too easy, that you began to slightly question why everything seemed so perfect.

If there were any red flags like Yizhuo pointed out, it was probably too small to see in the mix of fun times you spent together.

Times spent together usually and often ended with the two of you cuddling or making out on his couch.

Unsurprisingly, Chenle was a really good kisser. Plus, he was good at cuddling. You had no doubts in that moment you laid eyes on him, but everything was certainly up to expectations. He knew exactly how to hold you in his arms and make you feel like you were on top of the whole damn world.

As you leaned in closer for another this time, your hands running through his hair, you took notice of his features. His incredibly sharp jawline (mewing tutorial when?), the flushed pink splashed across his collarbones up to his cheeks, and now that he grew out his hair longer, it was much harder to see the shape of his ears-

Hold on.

You blink and then squint your eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping you’re just imagining things.

“Chenle. Are those Airpods?”

Chenle immediately pushes you off of him and then freezes.

You see every single emotion flash through Chenle’s eyes, but he’s still speechless. You’d honestly thought you’d been through the entire spectrum of men in your life, from guys who had memes tattooed on their chest to guys who brought their mother to dates to guys with an extremely interesting savior complex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Relax. You still had your dignity to protect. “What… are you listening to?” Maybe he was into listening to music while making out, maybe some relaxing sounds people used to cope with traumatic intimate experiences??? You were thinking of anything at this point, trying to brace yourself for the absolute worse.

“Highlights” Chenle begins, looking at you nervously, “For uh, for the Warriors game.” Before you can even process the info, Chenle rambles on, “We’re so so close to a wild card spot and I wanted to turn the game on earlier, but you were talking about your project you were working on and I really wanted to listen, and right now it’s not like we’re talking about anything important, so I figured it might be alright if I-“

what the fuck… yeah shut the hell up right now please, you think as he keeps rambling, and turn around to grab a pillow behind to smack this big headed shit right in the head.

“Ow-“ Chenle throws his hands up in defense, trying to block the pillow that comes crashing down. “What? Hey!”

“Zhong Chenle. I’m going to chop your fucking dick off.”

—

In the end, Chenle’s dick remains intact.

After letting himself get beaten up by a pillow, he manages to get you to calm down, taking the airpods out, which makes you a little bit happier than you were before.

Chenle leaves you on the couch to take a shower, allowing you to ponder for a bit. Were you being too restricting this way? Chenle seemed to still care about you, and didn’t want to take away time from your own interests as well. I mean… maybe you needed to get into basketball as well to fully understand.

As you lounge on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest, you hear the faint sound of the shower turning off. Before you know it, Chenle slips onto the couch beside you, his presence warm and comforting. In one smooth motion, he curls himself around you, arms gently wrapping around your waist as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of the shampoo you gifted him lingers in the air, blending with the soft warmth of his skin.

Your mind's racing, caught between conflicting emotions. And damn, Chenle smells incredible, which really isn’t helping right now.

A minute of silence passes before he finally speaks, his voice soft but serious. “Look, I get if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to push any boundaries. If that was too much, I won’t do it again. And if this is something that’s going to be a dealbreaker for us, I get it—we can end things here.”

“No, wait—no,” you cut in, setting your phone aside to face him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Okay, it was weird. You’ll give him that. Maybe his “casual” obsession with basketball wasn’t as casual as you thought. And sure, that might be a red flag for some.

But Yizhuo’s wrong. Maybe Chenle’s got a deeper connection with his basketballs than you or whoever she’s comparing him to, but at least he’s never moaned or called you Stephen Curry in the heat of the moment.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get used to this. Besides, he already promised he wouldn’t do it again.

Your thoughts bounce back and forth, but after a while, you break the silence with a quiet, “Did you win?”

His head lifts from your shoulder instantly, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Yeah, we did! Secured our spot in the conference finals.”

Conference finals. Oh, right. You recognize that term—studied it on Quizlet like the good, supportive partner you are.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. Chenle might be a bit obsessed with the sport, but he was supportive of your own goals and actually a really nice boyfriend.

“Tell me about it.”

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

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kikyoupdates · 3 days ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

previous | story masterlist | next

It’s a day just like any other. The sun is slowly creeping up into the sky, the early morning air tastes crisp and sweet, and the roads are still pleasantly quiet.

Today, too, you’re being beat up by your dad.

“Come on, [Name],” Aizawa chuckles. He throws more of his cloths your way, and you just narrowly manage to avoid them before your foot gets snagged. “Is it just me, or are you slowing down?”

You furrow your brows. To be more precise, you aren’t actually being beat up by your dad, but the difference in strength is so staggering that you may as well be.

For the past few years, Aizawa has taken it upon himself to train you in the art of hand-to-hand combat. Your Quirk allows you to regenerate, which is an incredibly useful ability, especially if you ever find yourself in trouble, but you need to have the fighting prowess to match your defensive capabilities.

So, training. You agreed to this long ago, ever since you made up your mind about becoming a hero. Of course, you were just an innocent little kid back then, who clearly didn’t know any better. Now that you’re twelve—practically an adult (in your mind, at least)—you’ve come to understand just how tall of an order it is to keep up with someone like Aizawa.

Put simply, your dad is a badass. You always knew he was, of course, but it’s different when you’re actually facing off against him all by yourself.

Still. No matter how rigorous his training sessions may be, and no matter how exhausted you feel after the fact, you don’t regret your decision even the slightest bit.

In order to become a hero, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“You’re imagining it,” you say, flashing him a lopsided grin. “I think your eyes are drying out again, dad. Do you need me to buy you more eye drops?”

Before he can respond, you kick off the ground and lunge towards him. His reflexes are incredibly sharp, but yours are no joke either. It’s just those damn cloths of his. Not only is he an expert at using them, but the material is incredibly sturdy, and once you’re caught, you have little hope of breaking free.

Aizawa tries to bind you, but you’re fast enough to avoid him yet again. Unfortunately, his attacks don’t stop there, and as usual, it turns out that he’s been going easy on you.

You let out a rather pitiful attempt at a battle cry, gambling everything you’ve got left on one final, reckless kick, but it ends pretty much as expected—with your body tied up against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Shit,” you curse. “I really thought I might be able to land a hit today.”

Aizawa crosses his arms and frowns. “Where did you learn to talk like that? Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?”

“It’s Katsuki’s fault,” you say, eager to shift the blame. “He swears all the time, and I think it’s rubbed off on me.”

“Him again,” Aizawa sighs. He shakes his head, then bends down to untie you. “Well, it was a good attempt. You’re fast and pretty good at reading my movements, but at the end of the day, you’re just a kid. I’m not so out of touch that I’d lose to you yet.”

“But shouldn’t I have at least been able to land a hit by now?” you whine.

“Of course not. If you had, it would’ve been because I let you hit me on purpose. But I’m not letting my guard down, so that you get a real challenge. It’s the only way you’ll learn.” He pauses for a moment, gathers his cloths back up, then smiles. “You’re only twelve, [Name]. Already, you’ve probably had way more training than any of your peers. Just because you haven’t managed to hit me yet doesn’t mean you’re not strong. Don’t doubt yourself.”

He ruffles your hair, and you have to admit, it helps to soften the blow somewhat. As nice as it would be to be able to say that you’ve won a spar against the famed Eraserhead, at this stage in your life, it probably isn’t realistic. Besides, even after all these years, you still haven’t figured out how to use your other Quirk. That rush of power you felt during the museum attack, and with Dr. Garaki.

You’re not sure what the trigger for it is, but you figure that at some point, you’re bound to figure it out. In the meantime, routinely training your combat skills seems like a pretty safe bet.

“Alright, let’s head home so you can get ready for school,” Aizawa says. Most kids your age would probably be loath to wake up early in the morning to train, but you’re as diligent as they come. Even Aizawa is impressed with how hard you always work.

Sometimes, though, it makes him a bit sad. When he thinks about why you were created, that is.

For obvious reasons, nobody’s told you that you’re an artificial human. Several years have passed, and by now, your memories of Dr. Garaki are rather faint. You’ve never really questioned the circumstances surrounding your background, and over time, you just accepted that you’ll never know who your real parents are, assuming they’re even alive. Your interpretation of the whole thing is the explanation the adults have chosen to go with—that you were the victim of a kidnapping by some deranged scientist who implanted a Quirk in your body.

It’s better this way, though. It’s better for you to feel normal, so that you can have a normal, happy life, like all the other kids.

Even if your origin is undeniably unique, it doesn’t make you any lesser than the others.

However, it certainly doesn’t make things easy either.

You’ve had countless nightmares over the past few years. Similar to the first you ever had, where Dr. Garaki was repeatedly slicing your skin open. Trauma doesn’t fade easily, although the passing of time can certainly help. The nightmares have decreased in frequency as you’ve gotten older, and as your life has become filled with more joy rather than pain.

But just because the nightmares have faded doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared completely.

You still get them sometimes. Recently, however, it’s been less about Dr. Garaki himself, and more to do with that strange voice in your head.

Kill all heroes.

That’s the number one thing you hear. The words repeat themselves, over and over again, like some sort of mantra. Like some strange force that’s seeking to take control of your body.

You don’t like worrying Aizawa or Present Mic, so you make no mention of these dreams. They make no sense, after all. You’re training to become a hero, so why in the world would you want to kill them?

Just like that inexplicable second Quirk of yours, it doesn’t make any sense. But you’re a good kid, and your mental strength is unmatched. You won’t let some silly nightmares get the best of you. No matter how frightening or how real they seem… everything will be fine.

That’s what you’re choosing to believe.

You quickly rid your head of these morbid thoughts and focus on getting ready for school. You hop into the shower, get changed, then meet Aizawa in the kitchen for breakfast.

“You know what would be amazing?” you sigh dreamily. “Burgers for breakfast. I think it’s a fun idea. We should try it from now on, okay?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “Seriously. All these years and you’re still not sick of burgers, even after how many you’ve eaten? I swear you must have had over a thousand by now.”

“How could I ever get sick of the best food in the world?”

“Jeez. But no, burgers are way too heavy for breakfast. In fact, they’re too heavy in general. I really shouldn’t be indulging you so much.”

He brings the pan over and flips some scrambled eggs onto your plate, then sets down a few pieces of toast and a small salad he put together. Unfortunately, it seems like burgers for breakfast will forever remain a fantasy, but Aizawa’s always been pretty good at cooking, so you can’t really complain.

“When I’m an adult,” you say, mouth half-full, “I’m going to cook burgers every single meal of every single day, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“You underestimate the sixth sense parents have for this kind of thing,” Aizawa muses. He leans across the table and flicks you on the nose. “I’ll show up at your house, even as a grumpy old man, and nag you to eat healthy food instead.”

“Aren’t you already a grumpy old man?” you point out. “That’s what Uncle Mic says.”

“[Name], I’m not even thirty years old yet,” he sighs.

“I dunno. That sounds pretty old to me.”

“Cheeky little brat,” he mutters. “Finish your food and leave the sassy remarks for later.”

You giggle, happily stuffing your mouth. You’ve always had a big appetite, so it doesn’t take long for you to polish off your plate and set it aside. Then, you grab your backpack, slip on your shoes, and make for the front door.

“I’m heading out,” you beam. “Don’t miss me too much!”

“I’ll try my best,” Aizawa chuckles. He waves you off with a subtle, yet gentle smile. “Have a nice day. Make sure to stay out of trouble.”

“Pfft. I never get in trouble.”

You flash him one last grin, then set out.

The trip to school isn’t awfully long, and when you step inside the classroom, the very first thing you do is march straight over to your best friend’s desk.

“Izuku! Good morning!”

He jolts to attention, turning towards you with a timid smile. “G-Good morning, [Name]. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you smile. “And I got my usual workout in this morning too.”

“Training with Eraserhead, right? How did it go? Were you… able to land a hit on him this time?”

“I wish,” you sigh dramatically. “He’s way too good at fighting. I seriously wonder if I’ll ever be able to beat him.”

“It’ll happen eventually,” he reassures. “You’re really strong, after all. He’s got the advantage right now because he’s an adult, but you’ll catch up one day. I’m willing to bet on it.”

Your smile widens. Even though several years have passed, Izuku is still the same old sweetheart as always. As a matter of fact, he’s just gotten even kinder over time—something that you didn’t think was even possible.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning over his desk. “By the way, I finally had the chance to watch that new superhero movie that came out, and you were right! It was totally awesome—”

“Get your ass out of my way, loser.”

You’re forcibly cut off mid-sentence by a sudden kick to your rear end, which makes you stumble and collide with Izuku’s desk. You wince momentarily, but you already know who’s to blame before you even look over your shoulder.

Several years have passed, and much like how Izuku hasn’t changed, the same can be said for Katsuki as well.

He’s still a massive shithead.

“My ass wasn’t in your way,” you glare. “Why are you looking at my ass anyways? I’ll tell my dad that you’re a pervert, and then he’ll beat you up.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, cheeks instantly reddening. “Shut up! I obviously didn’t mean it like that, you freak! God. Seeing your face always pisses me off.” He pauses to glance Izuku’s way, then narrows his eyes. “Both of you piss me the hell off. Morons.”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his pants and stomps off, as per usual. By now, you’ve seen this exact scene play out so many times that you’re hardly fazed. You wonder how he has the energy to be so angry all the damn time. It looks exhausting.

“Poor guy,” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. “It must be hard not having anyone who likes him.”

Izuku swallows. “K-Kacchan is really popular, though… so, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. He’s just always been angry. Which you probably already know.”

“Just because people follow him around doesn’t necessarily mean they actually like him,” you counter. “He’s popular, but not in a good way. Everyone knows he has a bad attitude. And I doubt he even considers anyone his friend.”

“I guess… that could also be true.” Izuku hesitates before glancing towards Katsuki’s desk. Thankfully, the blond is looking out the window, because you’re certain he would’ve made some unsavory remark had they locked eyes.

Anyways, Katsuki is much of a pain as always, and you doubt that’ll change anytime soon.

But the hopeful, perhaps naive part of you can’t help but dream of a day when Katsuki will apologize to Izuku, and they’ll finally be on good terms again.

It sounds ridiculously far-fetched, though.

A few more minutes pass, and then the teacher walks into the classroom and gets started with the first lesson of the day. Over the years, you haven’t just trained your body, but also your mind. Even though you were admittedly pretty far behind your peers, your natural intelligence allowed you to learn quickly and catch up, and now, you’re proud to say that you’re the best student in the class.

“Who’d like to come up to the board and solve this question?” the teacher asks, and he makes a big show of pretending to look around the class before smiling and locking eyes with you. “[Name], would you mind?”

You nod, and you’re able to solve the question without much trouble. When you’re done, the teacher congratulates you on always being such a good student, and meanwhile, Katsuki mashes his teeth in frustration.

It’s almost always you who gets called on. Normally, teachers like to give others a chance, or even pick out the weakest links to force them to put in an effort, but since everyone knows you’re smart, the teachers love having you answer their questions. Maybe it makes them feel like they’re doing a good job of teaching the material or whatever. Katsuki doesn’t know the exact reasoning behind it, but either way, it pisses him off.

It wasn’t like this before. Up until you showed up, he was used to always being the best at everything. He had the strongest Quirk, he was the smartest student, and he was pretty much always the hottest topic.

But you took all of that from him. You, with your ridiculously overpowered regeneration, and that impressive incident at the museum—which people still talk about, to this day—with your apparent giftedness and ability to learn faster than anyone else, and with that stupidly carefree attitude, no matter what people say about you.

Katsuki can’t even begin to express how angry you make him. You and that stupid idiot you always hang out with. The bane of his goddamn existence—Deku.

He despises both of you to no end. It actually seems rather fitting that the two of you would band together. It’s almost as if you’re both conspiring against him, to see who can piss him off the most.

Katsuki watches as you take your seat. Some of the students are whispering about you under their breaths, making snide remarks like how much of a goody-two-shoes you are, and how you must be desperate for attention. Unlike Katsuki, you don’t actively intimidate people, which means they aren’t afraid of the repercussions if they gossip about you. Katsuki isn’t a loser, so naturally, he doesn’t partake in said gossip (he’d much rather just insult you to your face), but time and time again, he’s surprised by how little you care.

You don’t care about other people’s opinions. Even if they look down on you or call you all sorts of unpleasant things, you never let it get under your skin.

Even though Katsuki refuses to admit it to himself, part of him secretly envies your mindset. He envies the ability to live your life without constantly comparing yourself to others, like he does.

But since he’s a stubborn, insecure bastard, he’s nowhere near ready to come to terms with how he feels. Which means he’ll keep on doing what he’s been doing until now.

Hating your fucking guts.

“Yay, classes are finally over! Maybe I can convince my dad to take me out to a burger joint for dinner,” you hum.

Izuku chuckles softly. “Nobody loves burgers as much as you do, [Name].”

“I’m a burger fanatic,” you proudly declare. It’s admittedly a strange thing to boast about, but it makes Izuku laugh, which is a victory in itself.

As always, you and Izuku leave school together. You usually walk together for a little while until your paths diverge. Sometimes you go hang out at his place. His mom, Inko, is super nice and has always been incredibly welcoming towards you. Even now, you can still remember the very first time Izuku invited you over, and how ridiculously nervous he was to show you his room.

Izuku’s gone over to your place a few times before too, but it’s usually just easier to go to his house, because, well…

“You want to bring a boy over?”

Aizawa didn’t quite seem like himself when you first breached the topic. In fact, Mic had to grab him by the shoulders to try and pacify him. He was practically blowing smoke out of his nose.

So, yeah. Since Aizawa can be rather overprotective and has a way of intimidating people—even diehard hero fanboys like Izuku—you normally prefer to keep your hangout sessions away from home.

Your phone vibrates, so you pull it out and check your notifications. “Oh. My dad said he got suddenly called in for a job, so I guess no burgers for dinner today. Is it alright if I stay at your place for a while? We can do our homework together.”

“Of course,” Izuku smiles. “You can come over whenever you want. My mom’s always happy to see you.”

“Great! Oh, also, I was watching a video on DIY facial masks the other day, and I really want to try some! Apparently, they leave your skin feeling super-duper smooth. We can make a little spa day out of it!”

Izuku laughs and nods, always willing to keep up with your antics. You walk out of the school building together and head for the front gate, excited about the impromptu hangout session you’ve just put together.

However, someone blocks your path.

“Where are you losers going?” Katsuki glares. “I get sick just watching you two, always giggling like idiots. It’s disgusting.”

One of Katsuki’s thug friends crosses his arms and openly sneers. “Don’t make fun of them, Katsuki. Can’t you tell they’re in love? They’re always making googly eyes at each other. I bet they’ll start blowing kisses next.”

Unsurprisingly, the implication makes Izuku blush and shrink in on himself. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes and sigh heavily.

“You guys are so annoying,” you scowl. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I’m looking forward to my spa day, so please don’t ruin it.”

“Spa day…? What is this stupid girl talking about?”

The two groupies exchange confused looks, and you’re really not sure why they keep referring to you as stupid or idiot when you’ve got better grades than both of them combined.

Katsuki just stands there and keeps glaring at you. As expected, you and that asshole Deku are an infuriating pair. He was already pissed off because of how many questions you solved in front of the class, and how the teacher kept praising you for it, but seeing you and Izuku attached at the hip like this just adds insult to injury. And seriously, did he hear that right? You’re going over to that loser’s house again?

You’ve known Katsuki for just as long as you’ve known Izuku, and yet, even after all these years, the two of you may as well be strangers.

Of course, he’s to blame for it, since he’s treated you like nothing but dirt, but for some reason, it makes his chest tighten.

Not once have you asked to go to his house.

Katsuki clenches his fists. It’s happening again. His face is getting hot, and his stomach feels funny. This only ever happens when you’re involved, and being the stubborn, immature little brat that he is, he can’t make sense of what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t understand what he wants, and it drives him absolutely insane.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes dart towards Izuku, the usual target of his rage. It has to be this asshole’s fault. After all, it just doesn’t make any sense. You might be insufferable, but your Quirk is undeniably strong, so why are you always hanging out with a weakling like him? He must have infected you with his loser genes. Otherwise, you would have chosen to stay by Katsuki’s side all these years. Surely.

Yeah. As expected, everything is always Izuku’s fault.

“Fuck you, Deku,” Katsuki grits out. He forcefully shoves the boy back, hard enough that he topples over and lands on the ground.

You react immediately and rush towards Izuku, ample concern in your eyes.

“Izuku! Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” he reassures. “It didn’t hurt or anything. Let’s just… let’s just go.”

You offer him your hand to hold onto while he stands up, and Katsuki isn’t sure why, but watching you help just pisses him off even more.

All the anger he’s been struggling to suppress over the years is bubbling up to the surface. The fact that you’ve always been so powerful, even as a kid. The fact that even though he thought you were dumb at first, you’re now an even better student than he is. The fact that you choose to spend all your time with Izuku, and now, that shitty nerd actually looks happy for a change.

And worst of all…

The fact that every time you smile, his entire body feels like it’s been set on fire.

It’s too much for someone with an ego as fragile as Katsuki’s to bear. He simply can’t stomach it anymore. He’s angry. He’s so, so fucking angry.

So, he explodes—both figuratively and literally.

Katsuki’s gotten in trouble for using his Quirk on school grounds before, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Without thinking twice, he unleashes an explosion that strikes Izuku right in the face, and the latter splutters weakly from the sudden assault.

But he doesn’t stop there. Katsuki can’t repress his cruelty anymore. In this moment, he’s aching for Izuku to feel the same pain he feels. Not just a physical pain, but something that stems from deep within.

“Don’t believe her lies,” Katsuki grits out. Of course, you’ve since assumed a protective stance and are standing in front of Izuku, trying to block him in case Katsuki strikes again, but you can only shield him from injuries, not words. “She’s lying to you, Deku. Do you really think someone like you can become a hero? Come on. Be realistic. You still have no Quirk. You’ll never have a Quirk. But it’s not just that. You’re spineless and weak. You need a girl to fight your battles for you. Isn’t it obvious that she’s just making a fool out of you? She knows your dream is pointless, so she must think it’s hilarious that you’re still holding out hope. She’s getting a kick out of messing with your head.”

“Izuku, don’t listen to him,” you insist. You turn back to face Katsuki and clench your jaw, eyes darkening. “Stop it. None of what you’re saying is true. Do you enjoy being a horrible person? I seriously don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

Katsuki doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him either. He’s spent years trying to figure it out. Why does he care about a weakling like Deku, or an annoying girl like you? Everyone is below him. So, then… why should he care so much? Why should he let it bother him?

He really doesn’t understand.

Which makes it even more unbearable.

“You’ll never be a hero,” Katsuki glowers. “Not now, not in a million years, not ever. You’re not a little kid anymore, so how can you keep believing in something so goddamn stupid? It’s embarrassing. I almost feel sorry for you. Everyone else does too. I bet it makes them sick to have to share a classroom with someone like you.”

Izuku whimpers, and despite your insistence that he ignores Katsuki, you realize that’s easier said than done.

“Cut it out,” you warn. “You’re really upsetting him, and you’re upsetting me. Hurry up and apologize. I’m not kidding.”

Katsuki isn’t deterred in the slightest. “I would rather die than ever apologize to a loser like him. He’s pathetic. He may as well be vermin. Isn’t he ashamed, saying that he’ll become a hero when he’s so goddamn weak? I don’t know where he gets the nerve. He’s insulting everyone who actually has a chance.”

You glance back towards Izuku, and to your horror, fat tears have filled his eyes. He’s frantically trying to wipe them away, but Katsuki’s words cut deep, like a knife to the heart. Izuku is a sensitive soul, burdened with unfortunate circumstances beyond his control. He already struggles with self-doubt on a daily basis, and that’s without Katsuki adding fuel to the fire.

So, Izuku cries. He can’t help but cry. He’s still only twelve years old, and the amount of bullying he’s endured from such a young age has undeniably left its mark.

Katsuki knows this. He knows how much pain he’s causing his former friend, and yet, he refuses to stop.

Your temples throb. It feels like your entire stomach has twisted into a knot. The sight of Izuku sobbing like this… it hurts. Your heart aches for him. But it isn’t just sadness that you feel.

You feel anger, too.

“Shut the hell up, Katsuki.” Your shoulders are trembling, and you don’t bother to mince words anymore. You can’t recall the last time he’s spoken to Izuku like this. There have been plenty of unpleasant altercations in the past, but usually, you managed to stop the situation before it got too out of hand.

This time is different.

This time, Katsuki isn’t going to be satisfied until he’s completely torn Izuku down.

“Deku. It’s time to get it through your head already. You’re useless, and weak, and hearing you talk about becoming a hero is the biggest joke I’ve ever heard. When are you going to stop being so stupid? When are you finally going to learn how the world works?” Katsuki takes a step forward, just so that he can stare more closely into Izuku’s wide emerald eyes. “You’ll never amount to anything. You’re not worth anything. So, hurry up and learn your place. And stop dragging [Name] into your mess. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she can’t wait to get rid of you.”

It’s the final nail in the coffin. Izuku’s tears continue pouring down his cheeks, and he can hardly even get a proper breath in between each frantic sob. The worst part is that all you can do is watch. There’s nothing you can say to him at this moment that will magically erase the damage Katsuki inflicted. There’s nothing you can do.

Except direct your anger towards the source.

You feel it again. Even though it’s been a while, this is undeniably the same sensation you’ve felt in the past. Strength is gradually seeping into your limbs, coursing through your veins and pulsing, desperate for release.

It’s the same thing as before. This is the power that allowed you to escape from Dr. Garaki’s clutches. It’s a power that should only be used to punish evildoers.

But right now, it feels like Katsuki is deserving of that punishment.

“I warned you to shut the fuck up,” you seethe. Katsuki reacts by shrugging indifferently, of course, but that’s only because he doesn’t know what’s coming.

In the very next moment, he finds himself on his knees.

Of course, you’re no fool. You aren’t reckless or shortsighted enough to hit him, knowing full well how much damage it can cause. Instead, you pull your punch at the last moment and strike the area just next to him. But the force is enough to shatter the school gate, and it lets out a horrible creaking noise, akin to a wail, as it falls apart from its hinges and collides to the ground.

A dust cloud settles, and all the while, Katsuki is still there, fallen to his knees, unwilling to admit that he’s shaking from head to toe.

For just a moment, he swears he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Just like before, the surge of power you felt is gone. You frown and ponder it for a moment. It almost felt like your sheer anger gave birth to that impressive feat of strength. But you could be wrong. You still don’t completely understand what the trigger is.

But that’s beside the point right now. You cast a glance towards Izuku, who is thankfully no longer crying, but now proceeds to stare at you in bewilderment.

And then you turn back to gaze upon the destruction you’ve just caused. You’ve completely decimated a piece of school property, not to mention the few passerby students who happen to have witnessed the whole thing.

“Make sure to stay out of trouble.”

You suddenly remember Aizawa’s words from earlier, and it’s safe to say that you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.

“Uh oh,” you mutter. “Dad’s gonna be mad.”

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

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💎 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

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satoshy12 · 2 years ago

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Like grandfather like grandson

Danny x Val Ra's al Ghul father of Alicia and Maddie Ex-LoA Maddie, who had good relationship with Ra. Danny and Jazz's very busy grandfather, Ra's al Ghul, pays a surprise visit to Amity Park, leaving Maddie Fenton both intrigued and happy. Jazz was happy to talk with her grandfather again; the last time they did was because she told him she didn't want to rule his cult.

Ra's was interested in his grandson; imagine his surprise to learn his descendant built his own group! And took care a problem he wanted to take care of.

Danny, even with his ghostly abilities, also inherits a part of his grandfather's legacy, he formed his own elite group. Drawing inspiration from the Assassins of the Assassin's Creed, Danny and his team don the iconic robes and hoods. And his relationship with Valerie Gray had deepened as their connection strengthened as they navigated the challenges while in battle. So they were dating again and much happier now too.

Together, they protect Earth from supernatural and extraterrestrial threats from the Zone and similar In a similar way, Black Ops do it, not knowing they were there to take it.

John Constantine most often uses them and pays them pretty well. Like most of the Justice League Dark.

+ Ra's had a lot of joy talking with his grandson about different ideas and how to lead them, and seeing old assassins who died serving him and their ghosts had joined the cult "okay Madeline" group of his grandson. For a group of only four humans, they were pretty effective too as he read the report his spies found about them. Jasmine didn't seem to fully want to join it, but it's good to see she is still as strong as before.

+ Maddie joined it and gave tips for it; it was like when she was a child and before she left. She didn't want to be his heir; her father wouldn't die anyway. She has no idea why he wants a Heir anyway.

++++ - So in a way, Talia and Damian are the replacements twice over, or even worse, three times over, for the position heir. - The other ones didn't want the heir position.

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 1 year ago

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Was reading over the reverie arc tag and saw that you said to re-ask you about Im after what happened is revealed. (I'd provide the link but tumblr won't let me) So, while not much was revealed, thoughts?

what i think is really interesting about imu is how they compare and contrast to the other characters who have been set up for us as endgame villains, those being blackbeard and akainu. compared to both of them, imu is established quite late in the series, and how they will fit into the unrolling narrative and themes of the story is still somewhat unclear.

both blackbeard and akainu are established firmly well before they enter the main story as primary antagonists. we hear about blackbeard as far back as alabasta and meet him in jaya, while akainu is first seen in robin's enies lobby flashback and mentioned even before that. and they each also embody a strong thematic conflict with the main characters that is going to need to be overcome by the end of the story.

blackbeard mirrors luffy in his pursuit of the pirate king's throne, existing in the same lineage of villains as doflamingo and big mom. it seems almost certain that he will be the final and most difficult fellow challenger for the title of pirate king that luffy will need to face, and the eventual showdown between the blackbeards and strawhats has been telegraphed for quite some time. the question this conflict asks is, what does it mean to be a pirate? what does it mean to be a pirate king?

meanwhile, akainu is the embodiment of authoritarianism. he's the law, brutal and indiscriminate; he represents the order that would stifle freedom. he is much more alike to antagonists like rob lucci and cp-9. while i usually try to avoid speculation on this blog, i think akainu's final defeat will probably not be at luffy's hands; i think a showdown with sabo is much more likely. and the reason i think this is because the question that the conflict with akainu asks is, what does real justice look like? this is ultimately the question of the conflict between the marines and the revolutionaries; they are two armies fighting over whether the current order will be maintained or torn down and built anew.

so, then, imu. we meet them quite late in the game, and still know very little about them. however, i do think this is in itself thematically resonant; we see almost no trace of imu anywhere else until we reach mariejois itself, because they have been deliberately erased from the world. imu is tied, specifically and inextricably, to the mystery of the void century, of the erased history, and we will only learn the truth about them when we learn the truth about everything else.

imu's role in the story seems to be specifically to finally provide a direct antagonist to the overarching myth arc of the void century, the forgotten ancient kingdom, and the will of d; the imperial crimes of the world government, shoved endlessly under the rug. can you build a world-spanning kingdom on a lie? will it stand? for how long? there can be no such thing as an immortal empire no matter how much force you might use to make it so. you can't pin the sun in place in the sky.

while it's impossible to really guess this conflict is going to unfold given how much information we still don't have, my top three guesses for who will be primarily involved are robin (for obvious reasons; unraveling the truth of the void century is her dream, and imu stands directly in the way of that), vivi (also obvious; imu is targeting her directly), and law (both because his new goal is to unravel the meaning of the will of d and because it seems significant that imu is likely a previous recipient of the ope-ope no mi's immortality technique).

#one piece #not japanese #jonny answers #opmeta #character meta #imu #blackbeard #akainu #long post

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dokjak · 4 months ago

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This blog will be much less active soon ✌️ orv is special to me but it’s been like 5 years since I finished it.

List of other novels I recommend:

Longer reviews after this TLDR;

Return of the Mount Hua Sect — Martial arts novel. 100 years after he died to stop the end of the world, Chung Myung reincarnates to find his sect in ruins. This novel is hilarious, thrilling, and heartbreaking all at once. I also like it because Chung Myung is insane and his personality sucks.

Debut or Die — The OG idol novel. Ryu Gunwoo wakes up in the body of Park Moondae and must debut as an idol, else his System will kill him. I like it because Moondae is an intelligent but unreliable narrator who doesn’t realize people care about him.

Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols — Kim Iwol, an exploited office worker, wakes up as the next member of his manager’s daughter’s favorite idol group. I love it because the more you learn about Iwol, the more you realize he’s a Freakk. His pre-transmigration life is so horrible it’s funny, and his System is mean to him too 😭

The Trashy PD Has to Survive as an Idol — Seo Hoyun, an unethical TV producer who “evil edits” idol shows for drama and ratings, transmigrates to a parallel world and needs to debut to return home. I like it because Hoyun is a petty bitch and straight up a bad person <3

normal reviews:

1. Return of the Mount Hua Sect

Summary (Shortened):

The 13th disciple of the Mount Hua Sect, one of the greatest third generation swordsmen, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint: Chung Myung. After defeating the Heavenly Demon and ending his reign of chaos, Chung Myung breathed his last on the summit of the Heavenly Demon Sect's mountain.

Hundreds of years passed, and he was revived as a child.

But... What was that? Mount Hua Sect has fallen? What kind of bullshit is that!?

Why you should read it:

it's my goat 🐐

Chung Myung is a real freak. He's got a bad personality. He's been compared to a rabid shih tzu.

It’s not a power fantasy, and it doesn’t just follow an OP protagonist around. The biggest regret of Chung Myung’s first life was focusing on his own strength instead of ensuring his sect’s survival, so there’s a lot emphasis on the supporting characters’ growth.

It's SO funny. Again, Chung Myung has a personality that makes everyone want to throttle him at all times.

It's touching. This is what I love most about RotMHS, apart from Chung Myung's personality. Given how funny and batshit insane he is, you tend to forget that he watched everyone he loved die in front of him. His grief hits when you've let your guard down and is all the more effective because of it.

It has great prose and some of the best action sequences l've read in a translated novel.

It respects women. Whenever men look down on her, Yu Iseol viciously crushes them. Tang Soso also has a massive girl crush on her because of it. They’re very sweet.

The webtoon is INCREDIBLE. Incredible character design - no two characters look similar, down to the silhouettes. Not everyone is deathly pale, and monolids exist!! The composition, especially for fight scenes, is striking. It also stays very true to the novel. You can tell the artists love it.

my rotmhs blog is @tangsoso :3c

The remaining recommendations are for idol novels. I don't even like kpop, they're just really good.

2. Debut or Die

Summary (Shortened):

A student who had been preparing for the Civil Service examination for 4 years suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar body, 3 years in the past. Along with it came a status window displaying a threat right before his eyes!

[Outbreak!]

[Status Abnormality: 'Debut or Die' occurs!]

A diary about the transformation of the main character, who was suddenly challenged to be an idol even though he had never been in the industry before, due to the sudden threat of death.

Why you should read it:

This is the OG idol novel. If you want a story about idols, people will always point you towards DoD first, and for good reason.

Park Moondae is a fascinating character and unreliable narrator. He cares a lot about others even if he thinks he doesn't, and doesn't realize that people care about him too.

Later on, there's an interesting mystery surrounding how and why he's in Park Moondae's body, what happened to the original Moondae, and what happened to his past identity, Ryu Gunwoo.

It has a good webtoon adaptation too!

3. Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

Summary:

Not only does he have to fangirl on behalf of the manager's daughter, but now he has to debut as an idol himself?

Assistant Manager Kim really hates idols.

Why you should read it:

The more you learn about Kim Iwol, the more insane he seems. He's not normal.

He lived such a HORRIBLE life ong.... His job was hilariously, cartoonishly abusive and the more you learn about Iwol's past the more you go. oh honey... this explains so much about you. He thinks working 22 hours a day, 7 days a week, is normal, and he's GOOD at it.

He's one of the most unreliable narrators I know of.

His System is so mean to him. please give him a break 😭

4. The Trashy PD Has to Survive as an Idol

Summary (Shortened):

[Congratulations Seo Hoyun! You have been selected as a player in the Unknown Idol Tycoon.]

The good-for-nothing PD, who is criticized by everyone, becomes an unknown idol in a parallel world. Only his younger sibling remembers him. To return to the original world, he must become a top idol and clear the game!

His specialty is blackmailing, his hobby is persuasion. The survival story of the unscrupulous PD-turned-idol who will stop at nothing!

Why you should read it:

Seo Hoyun is, above all else, a petty bitch. He's a straight up bad person. I love him.

I see people comparing him to Cale from TCF because they're both schemers, but l disagree. Hoyun is actually a bad person. If being a gaslighting male manipulator was an Olympic sport, he would be the gold medalist. Is he irredeemable though? Probably not...

The fact that his brother remembers him from pre-transmigration is intriguing and unique for this genre.

He's very protective of people he considers his own, which at first was just his brother. It's sweet to see his group members slowly be added to that list.

A webtoon adaptation is coming out on March 8th!!!

anyways @tangsoso has become my non-orv webnovel blog so come hang out with me there :)

#not orv #return of the mount hua sect #sorry in advance for all the idol novels. i don’t even listen to kpop #debut or die #assistant manager kim hates idols #the trashy pd has to survive as an idol

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houndsinthebasement · 4 months ago

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Art log #1: "Let this man retire" by me

Redrew that one meme with Dallas payday 3. Already posted on Reddit, but my ass got shadowbanned and honey. Sweetie. It's reddit. I'm not begging the admins to let me back.

FWB version:

Now for the yapping! By God do I love yapping!

To preface, I'm not planning on becoming a payday fanartist (though I'm not against the idea) but this little nuisance took weeks to complete, and I think all that time would go to waste if I didn't post it.

"Wow, weeks? How did you use that time?" It's all honestly a blur thanks to a particularly bad insomnia episode, I think I just stared blankly at the screen for hours at a time. If I wasn't painstakingly tracing the kataru alphabet pixel-by-pixel or scrapping&redrawing the lineart for the tenth time, that is.

Massive thanks to this project though, it kept me doing stuff and I learned a lot while working on it! Like that's your girl's first attempt at interior backgrounds, and it's the most serious project I've had in months.

"But OP, it's a meme redraw." Yeah, and my personal contribution to the Payday fandom. I wanted to challenge myself and for it to look halfway decent.

Anyway! About the actual piece.

I knew it had to be done when I first laid eyes on this:

I mean just look at him, does he look like he's excited to be pulled from retirement just to rob bank shoot cop again? To deal with Jonathan Agreement again? To top it off he's got no money and no yacht. Not happy Dallas.

Someone on the Reddit post's comments said he'd probably be happy to do it again, Ric Flair style, but personally I think it'd be funnier if they just kept taking his money and forcing him to heist again until he dies. From old age probably, Dallas is too sigma to be affected by bullets.

This post is already too long so I'm cutting it here. Special thanks to my bro for the fwb idea, I would've left it at the menu/safehouse version otherwise.

Also thanks to you if you read this to the end! <3

#payday 3 #payday 2 #digital art #payday dallas

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charcubed · 5 months ago

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Saw a post on the dash I so strongly disagree with I have to make my own post without interacting with OP... but if this makes it back to OP or anyone who agreed with their take, know this wasn't meant as hate or shade

I do genuinely think that in 15x11 when Dean says "Lady, I'm Tolstoy" to Fortuna he means it and believes it, and I think that's also important to the themes of the episode overall in the thematic context of the season.

Dean certainly has some semblance of self-worth by season 15 and it's kind of a misread of him and his character development to say he doesn't ("I’m good with who I am. I’m good with who you are" in season 14 weren't empty words). But aside from that, Fortuna calling him "sexy, but skimmable" and a "beach read" was about her saying he's simple and that there are no further depths to who he is. Therefore he's uninteresting to her and not a fun challenge. But Dean knows that's not true because he knows himself and his own complexities. He's well aware that he's deeper than people sometimes assume at first glance in several senses.

Which brings us to this: what Fortuna says to Dean acts as commentary on what people often assume about Dean's character in-universe and out of it. How often throughout the course of the show do villains hit on Dean and underestimate him because he's hot? And how often do parts of fandom paint Dean as simply sexy, the womanizer jokester, and/or the dumb one in comparison to Sam (in a well-meaning way or otherwise) when Dean's actually well-read, has a wide range of knowledge from pop culture to survival skills, and is extremely clever plus emotionally intelligent? Some of those misconceptions stem from earlier seasons when Dean's self-worth was lower, and/or just when he'd make jokes about Sammy being ~the smart one~ since he went to college and tends to be the research nerd. Y'know, the classic shit from when they were younger that people took at face value or didn't realize their characters shifted away from. But we're not in the earlier seasons anymore, and all of those old assumptions about who Dean and Sam are as people or how they see themselves don't apply in the narrative by season 15. They hadn't for years.

The reason why Fortuna's comments are also meta commentary is that nearly all of season 15 is. That's the nature of the overarching plot of Chuck as villain and the fight for free will. And that's extra true in 15x11, which deals with a god who steals luck (as Chuck stole their luck), misunderstands them, and therefore underestimates them. Sam wins his first game against Fortuna because she was distracted by the conversation, and as she says to Sam, "You got me talking. You're good." But Dean's the one who primarily distracts her while she's playing by asking her the questions; Sam even catches on to what Dean's doing in the middle of it (they exchange a glance) but he barely says anything. Which is why Sam pointedly replies to Fortuna, "I learned from my brother."

Dean knows ~he's Tolstoy,~ and he demonstrates how he got a read on Fortuna by cleverly playing the fuck out of her as Sam's backup in the first game. Because he knows it'll work, and it literally does. She loses because he distracts her!

Beyond characterizations, the importance of this is that the entire situation in Fortuna's pool hall is structured to reflect the rigged "game" of Chuck's narrative that Sam and Dean are trapped in. In regards to the importance of Dean saying "I'm Tolstoy" specifically... Again, there's more to Dean as a person and he's being underestimated. That's key in the context of their fight against gods, aka both Fortuna and Chuck. Dean further proves this by calling bullshit on Fortuna's "double or nothing" offer: "That's how the cowboy died." The cowboy challenged Dean to double or nothing and Dean took that bet because importantly he knew he had what it took to win it, but with Fortuna, he hesitates because he's astute. Plus, there's the fact that he and Sam are true "heroes" and the importance of that.

The takeaway for them and for us is that Sam and Dean had what it took to defeat Chuck. (Especially Dean, who Chuck is now obsessed with vs how Sam was originally the chosen one, just like with Fortuna.) They won a game against a goddess! But the key? Don't get baited into continuing to play.

Metanarratively, Dean is also the "cowboy." Going double or nothing in the overarching story – Sam and Dean not walking away when they get the win of having Jack back, but instead still playing Chuck's game and going up against him in a way he ultimately orchestrated rather than changing the game (with Cas' help) – is how/why they lose and Dean dies in 15x20. If Sam and Dean had taken Fortuna's advice of "Don't play his game. Make him play yours." – if they hadn't challenged Chuck within "his own joint" aka the confines of his storytelling Framework – then they wouldn't have lost. But they didn't do that, and so they didn't win.

"Lady, I'm Tolstoy" -> Dean's underestimated -> Dean and Sam have what it takes to defeat a god.

They didn't quite manage it with Chuck, but they (initially) did with Fortuna to win both their luck and her advice, and that still counts for something.

#supernatural #spn meta #dean winchester #spn 15x11 #supernatural meta #dean posting #dean studies #a tag I never use but when in rome or whatever #DEAN'S TOLSTOY #I should be asleep. but I saw that post and I was like........... respectfully this is madness lmao #I fucking love this episode. I fucking love this season. I'm sane and normal #char writes things

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popchoc · 6 months ago

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Special Ops Lioness - I’ll let you choose between Cruz/Aaliyah, Cruz/Joe or Cruz/Josie - I’d read all/any!

Prompt 35 - Can we start over?

Pleases and thank you 😊

Starting off easy, huh? Let me tell you, this was quite the challenge (having never written for them to start with), but also good practice, so thank you! About the pairing: though my mind immediately went to Cruz/Aaliyah (because let's face it, who wouldn't want them to have such a chance), I realized that a story like that deserves way more words and context than a short drabble can offer. So I went for another approach. Hope you like it!

Cruz & Josie - Can We Start Over?

About to enter the bedroom that over the past few months somehow turned into their bedroom, Cruz abruptly stops on the threshold.

Dressed in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of shorts that might as well be her briefs, Josie is doing some serious number of pull-ups; the sight of it being enough to make Cruz gasp for air. With bent knees, ankles crossed steadily and knuckles white from their tight grip, she works her body like a machine, showing off those strong biceps, rolling shoulder blades and tight back muscles in one synchronized dance. The beads of sweat are there for the finishing touch.

Gazing at the piece of art in front of her, she completely forgets why she's here. But then her mind wanders back.

Cruz doesn't mind conflict. Doesn't care what people think of her. Growing up with nobody understanding, appreciating, even liking her, she learned early on how to stand tall without any of that. How not to need anything, whether it was from her heartless parents, her heartless classmates or—later on—her heartless lovers. It's a simple fact to her, something she doesn't consider a problem. She could still have her fun, sometimes even more than that, with others, without having to win them over. Hell, they could hate her for all she cares. It doesn't upset her.

Usually.

Today is different. This morning she and Josie found themselves in their first argument, their first real confrontation. Not some bickering about who should buy eggs or what movie to watch, but a full blown fight, with screaming and shouting—largely from her part—and eventually walking away from it all. From her. The woman she's barely been without since Sky Hawk.

Once away, Cruz threw herself into her usual coping methods. Pushing her car to its limit. Making noise at the shooting range. Downing an ice-cold beer, and then another one. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake off that feeling she'd left the house with. It stuck to her like a hot and humid summer storm. Heavy and suffocating. Which could only mean one thing.

She cared.

Not just about the subject, although it was a serious one, but about the fight itself. About the way she'd left Josie behind. Sad? Angry? Maybe even hating her?

That thought alone was what's killing her. And enough to soldier up and go home.

Still lingering in the doorway, she clears her throat, making Josie glance over her shoulder, right in the middle of another pull-up. The intense face expression that comes with it is hard to read.

"You're gonna yell some more?" she asks, eyes forward again.

Cruz shakes her head, even though Josie can't see her. "No, I'm... I just..." She bites her lips to stop from stammering, then inhales deeply through her nose before trying again. "Can we start over? Like... can we talk?"

Josie lets go of the metal bar and lands on her feet like it's nothing. Like she didn't almost lose her leg three months ago. The thud makes Cruz flinch, while Josie doesn't seem to feel a thing. She turns towards her, which throws Cruz even more off balance. The woman has abs like a Greek statue.

"You hate talking."

"I don't, not anymore," Cruz shrugs awkwardly, "Not with you." She takes a step into the room. "I'm just really shitty at it."

Silently, Josie sits down on the edge of the bed. Cruz steps further into the room, grabs a sweater and—somewhat reluctantly—hands it to Josie to keep her body from cooling down too fast. When Josie takes it from her and puts it on, Cruz knows she'll listen to her - or at least wants to try.

"I don't want you to go on another mission," she starts warily.

Josie rubs her forehead, suddenly looking tired. "You said that already."

"Yeah," Cruz nods, "but I didn't say why. Not really."

When Josie looks up, their eyes meet. "So why?" she asks with hers.

Cruz shrugs again. "I'm scared."

"Right," Josie snorts, "That would be a first!"

Cruz knows that it isn't. That her indifference knows one exception. One exception that nearly broke her, so badly and almost irreparably that she swore never to go there again. Never to get close to anyone again. Boy, did she fail.

"Look," Josie goes on when Cruz stays quiet, "I know it's dangerous, but it will be okay. Joe's got my back."

"No, she doesn't!" Cruz exclaims, making Josie blink by the unexpectedness of it. She quickly calms her tone, forcing herself to keep talking as intended. "She doesn't. Not when it comes down to it. You'll be collateral damage. That's what being a Lioness means."

"Yet you had no problem with it." Josie's reply sounds like a statement, not a question.

"I wouldn't say that," Cruz sighs, "But yes, I went. Because I had nothing to lose." Squatting down in front of her, she rests her hand on Josie's knee. "But now I have."

"Cruz, it's my job."

"No, it's not. Flying helicopters is. You're a pi—"

"What are you asking me?!" Josie cuts her off, "Quit the army? Flying tourists over the Grand Canyon instead?!"

As Cruz drops her shoulders, a small groan escapes her lips. "No, of course not. The army is your life. And mine! I know that. It's just... there are limits. Or there should be. Right? When you've got what we've got..."

"And what's that?" Josie asks, raising her brow, "What do we have, Cruz?"

Cruz falls quiet. She doesn't have the words. She's never been here, never made it this far. How's she supposed to know?!

Gently palming her cheek, Josie makes her look at her again.

"We have started a life together," she helps her out. "Just like that, without even trying. We're not just you and me anymore, somewhere we became us." She moves her hand, tucks Cruz's hair behind her ear. "I think we never intended to, so we're a little unprepared, but here we are after all. And it's not a bad thing. Not at all. It's just new. And—"

"—terrifying?"

"Oh yes," Josie chuckles softly, "terrifying as hell. Especially in our line of duty."

Slowly shaking her head again, Cruz heaves another sigh. "I don't know how Joe's doing it. Or her family. How they handle all this."

Josie slides off the bed, pulling Cruz with her so they end up on the floor together. "Me neither," she admits, taking Cruz's hand into her own, "But if they managed to find a way, than so can we. If we want." She averts her eyes, before quietly adding, "If... if you want?"

Just like their lives, their fingers entwine together as by itself, soft and slowly. "I do," Cruz whispers, her warm breath caressing Josie's face, before inching even closer. As she goes on, her lips almost graze Josie's damp skin. "I want to figure this out."

Leaning in, Josie can feel Cruz's mouth trail towards hers. "You know what?" She brushes her tongue against Cruz's bottom lip, before teasingly searching for her ear. "I think we already started."

When Josie starts to nip at her earlobe, Cruz can barely form words anymore. "W- We did?"

"We talked, didn't we? Turns out we don't suck so bad," Josie breathes. Without pulling away, she turns Cruz's chin towards her with the lightest touch of her index finger. "That being said..." she grins, right before finally connecting their lips, "I think we should shut up now."

let's do some prompts!

#special ops: lioness #special ops lioness #cruz x josie #cruz manuelos #josie carrillo #josephina carrillo #fanfiction #writing prompts

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