#anywho not to complain on main

[angels--twice--descending]

WHAT IS THIS EPISODE

[tsireyqs]

i don’t know who convinced me to take classes during the summer but i hope they sleep on the highway bc why would you do that

[ellswritings]

Relinquish Control

Roman Reigns (Joe Anoa‘i) x Reader

TW: This is long afff, like 14.4k long. Anywho… foul language, mutual pining, sexual tension, use of real names, Roman and reader being control freaks. I think that’s it. Not my best work… but oh well.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When Y/N was told she would be moving from NXT to the main roster on Friday Night SmackDown, she couldn’t believe it. It had been her dream since she was a kid to make it to the big leagues like this. So when Paul Levesque told her she would have to work with a mentor for the next few months to solidify her position, she couldn’t refuse. If it means getting to fight alongside some of her heroes, she wouldn’t turn anything down.

It all became even more surreal when she was told that Roman Reigns, The Tribal Chief himself would be the one to mentor her.

At first, she was shocked. She wasn’t expecting the man who has currently had the world championship for about two years now consecutively would be the one to train her. She wasn’t expecting such a big name. But she couldn’t complain. Well, at least not yet.

At first, working with him was like a dream, until it wasn’t. Y/N was stubborn and had a very hard time taking orders. Joe on the other hand demands respect, he values the control he has in every aspect of his life. He’s not as smug as he portrays himself on camera, but he and Roman do share some very similar personality traits that make Y/N’s blood boil. But the feeling is mutual. It annoys him to no end that Y/N refuses to acknowledge him as her Tribal Chief. Most people would kill to be an honorary member of the Bloodline, but not her. The moment he offered her a spot at the table, she laughed it off and said she didn’t need his help. That she didn’t take orders from anyone.

Training the next day was particularly brutal for the poor girl after that. But she didn’t give up. And that’s another thing he admired yet hated about her. Her perseverance and hard headedness never lets up. In the ring and in their interactions. At first, it’s truly just annoying. She doesn’t blindly follow his orders. She pushes him, makes him justify why he wants her to train in certain ways.

And what makes it even worse is that she’s good. Really good. Anytime he gives her a critique, she applies it, albeit with a bit of sass and backtalk, but she does it and makes it better. It especially grates his nerves when she proves him wrong sometimes, doing a move a different way than he instructed and it actually ends up being more effective. At first he thought it would make him mad, but it started to make him more… interested than anything.

Y/N huffs frustratedly as Roman dodges her enzuigiri. It’s currently six thirty in the morning and they have already been training for two hours. It’s the same routine pretty much everyday besides Sunday’s. Get up at four, go to the gym, spend three to four hours training, do an ice bath, then she can go on with the rest of her day. Sometimes he even forces her to do extra sparring at the end of the night if he feels she needs it. It’s rigorous and her body hurts eighty percent of the time, but she won’t deny she’s getting better.

Roman tries to clothesline her but she quickly ducks under his arm, using the ropes of the ring to speed herself up as she attempts, and successfully executes a hurricanrana. She feels herself begin to smirk, a witty quip about to leave her lips, but the wind is quickly knocked out of her as Roman counters quickly, taking her hesitation as a moment of opportunity. He spears her to the floor, making her groan in anguish as he pins her for the entire three count.

“Being cocky will get you pinned every time,” he tells her, standing up effortlessly like they hadn’t just had a full on match. He sticks his hand out to help her up, but Y/N being her usual self scoffs quietly before pushing herself up on her own. She winces slightly, already feeling the soreness in her side where his spear made its impact. One thing about Roman is that just because she’s his mentee does not mean he goes easy on her in the ring. He’s not above knocking her on her ass if it means it’ll help her get better.

“You’re just mad ‘cause I practically chucked you across the ring,” she grumbles, unwrapping the white tape from her hands as she goes to leave the ring.

He follows after her, his voice remaining patient even though she’s tested every nerve he has. “It doesn’t matter how far you throw an opponent. The moment you get arrogant or take your attention away from the match is the moment you lose,” he lectures. “You need to get out of that immature ‘I need to prove myself’ mindset and actually start being a wrestler.”

“You act like I’m not doing that already,” Y/N fires back, rolling her shoulders to ease the ache. “Last I checked, I’m the one waking up at four in the damn morning, training until I can’t feel my legs, and getting my ass handed to me by a six-foot-three Tarzan-looking-man on a daily basis. What part of that says I’m not taking this seriously?”

Roman exhales through his nose, leveling her with a look. “You’re putting in the work, yeah. I see that. But you still fight like you have something to prove.”

“Because I do.”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.” He steps closer, looming over her, arms crossed. “You’re already here, Y/N. You made it to the main roster. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. But you keep fighting like some rookie trying to earn a contract. And that? That’s what’s gonna cost you when it actually matters.”

Y/N glares up at him, jaw set. She hates that he has a point. She hates even more that she can feel it sinking in. But she’s not about to admit that. She snatches up her water bottle and takes a long sip, buying herself time before responding. “Maybe that’s just how I fight,” she finally says, tilting her head at him. “Maybe I like fighting like I have something to prove.”

Roman scoffs. “Then you better get used to getting pinned.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not happening.”

“Then fix it.” His voice is firm, steady. It’s the same voice he uses in the ring, the one that commands the entire arena without needing to yell. “Learn to control yourself, or someone else is gonna do it for you.”

Y/N bristles at that. “Yeah? And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Roman doesn’t blink. “I know I am.”

There’s a tension in the air now, something heavy crackling between them. Y/N refuses to look away first. She can feel the heat of his stare, the weight of it pressing into her skin. After a moment of silence, she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, not wanting to continue the conversation. She still has an ice bath she has to sit through. “Whatever, Chief.” She spits the title with sarcasm, making Roman’s jaw flex just slightly. Then, just as she turns to leave, his hand wraps around her wrist, halting her in place. Her eyes flick down to where he holds her, then back up to his face. “Dude, I’m done for today.”

Roman doesn’t let go. “You don’t decide when we’re done.”

“My body does,” she argues, trying to yank free.

His grip remains firm but not forceful, his head tilting slightly. “You talk a big game, but the second things don’t go your way, you’re ready to walk?” He tuts. “That’s not how this works.”

Y/N glares at him. “I trained for three hours, got speared, and sat through one of your monologues about control. That’s a full shift as far as I’m concerned. I’m clocking out.”

Roman doesn’t even blink. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

She folds her arms. “Oh, please, enlighten me.”

“You think this is just training.” He steps closer, the weight of his presence suffocating. “You think I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself in the ring.”

“That is what mentors do,” she shoots back.

Roman huffs a low, knowing laugh. “I’m not just your mentor, Y/N.”

She raises a brow. “Oh yeah? What else are you, then?”

His fingers trail from her wrist, up to her forearm, then to her shoulder before gripping it firmly. “Your leader.”

She actually laughs at that. “Hate to break it to you, but I haven’t exactly accepted your little ‘seat at the table’ offer, so I don’t have to answer to you. You’re my mentor, not my boss.”

Something flickers in his dark eyes. Amusement. Frustration. Maybe something else—something sharper. His fingers tighten slightly. “You think that matters?”

She scoffs, shoving at his chest, forcing distance between them. “Yes, actually.”

Roman doesn’t move an inch. He just watches her. Studies her. Feels the way her breath hitches for half a second before she squares her shoulders again. Then, with all the patience of a man who knows he’s already won, he tilts his head. “Get back in the ring.”

She lets out an exasperated breath. “Not happening.”

He doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t have to. His stare alone is a command, heavy and absolute. And damn it, it pisses her off that she’s even considering listening.

“You’re so full of yourself,” she mutters, crossing her arms.

“I have every right to be,” he counters smoothly. “Everything I say, everything I do—it works. That’s why you’re here, training under me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, so now you wanna acknowledge that I never asked for this?”

Roman steps forward again, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. “You might not have asked, but you need it.” His voice drops, low and steady. “You need me.”

She exhales sharply through her nose. “You really think I can’t do this on my own?”

He smirks, head tilting. “You’re good, Y/N. But good doesn’t cut it here. You wanna make it? Wanna win?” His grip on her shoulder tightens. “Then acknowledge me as your Tribal Chief.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Dude, I’m not part of your little Samoan mafia or whatever the hell you call it.”

His smirk fades. “That doesn’t change anything.”

She gestures between them. “Uh, pretty sure it does. I’m not in the Bloodline, which means I don’t have to acknowledge shit.”

Roman exhales slowly, tongue running along the inside of his cheek. He should let this go. Shouldn’t let her get under his skin. But Y/N’s stubbornness, her complete defiance of him, grates his nerves in a way he hasn’t felt in years. She should want this. Anyone in the pro-wrestling world would. And yet here she is, looking him in the eye, daring him to push harder. Roman lets out a slow breath before shaking his head. “You’re gonna learn.”

“Oh yeah?” She lifts a brow. “And how’s that?”

He steps even closer, close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the shift in the air between them is almost tangible. “Because I don’t lose,” he murmurs, voice dangerously low. “And I don’t let people walk away from me.” For the first time, Y/N’s expression flickers—just barely, but he sees it. That second of hesitation is all the confirmation he needs. His voice is calm, measured, unwavering. “You’ll acknowledge me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it’s going to happen.”

Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “Don’t hold your breath, Chief.”

Roman just smirks. “We’ll see.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Another thing about having Joe as a mentor is that Y/N can only train with him or another member of the Bloodline. She didn’t necessarily mind that part of it. While it would be nice to get in the ring with some other people, she didn’t mind being with the guys. Josh and Jon are fun to be around, always making sparring more entertaining. Solo is really good about giving her advice she’ll actually use in the ring. And truthfully, she just loves being around Sami. He’s talented and has an energy that no one else can bring. She actually prefers the days when it’s all of them in the ring rather than just her and Roman.

Not that she minded being alone with Joe. It was the exact opposite. She loves getting under his skin and making him grit his teeth extra hard when she does something that irritates him. It’s also easier to stare at him for a bit too long when no one is around to tease her for it. Not that she would ever admit that she stares. But what makes her prefer the others being around is the fact that Roman’s attention is a bit more divided so she has more time to do workouts she wants to do.

Unfortunately, today doesn’t seem to want to work in her favor. She and Roman circle each other in the ring, Josh, Jon, and Sami watching from the side while Solo does his own workout on the other side of the gym. But he won’t lie, he is watching out of the corner of his eye.

The ring is alive with movement as Y/N and Roman circle each other. She’s fast, her footwork sharp, slipping past his reach with ease. He’s patient, methodical, letting her expend energy while he remains firmly planted.

Josh lets out a low whistle. “Man, she’s really got you moving, Uce.”

Jon grins. “She’s makin’ you sweat, big dog.”

Sami, ever the instigator, clasps his hands together. “I don’t wanna be dramatic, but I think we might be witnessing the fall of the Tribal Chief.”

Roman’s glare cuts through all of them, and they immediately sober up. Y/N smirks. “Aw, don’t be mad just because they can see I’m winning.”

Roman doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he lunges forward, forcing her to duck. She’s quick—spinning behind him and catching his arm to set up a ripcord knee strike. But instead of executing it cleanly, she twists her body in a way he hadn’t taught her, adding an extra rotation before slamming her knee toward his jaw. He steps back just in time, narrowly avoiding the full impact. Josh and Jon exchange glances, clearly impressed.

“Damn,” Jon mutters. “That was smooth.”

“Yeah, it was. I mean, jeez ma, you been holdin’ out on us?” Josh adds.

Roman doesn’t give her a second to enjoy their praise. He moves fast—too fast—sweeping her legs out from under her before she can react. Y/N hits the mat with a grunt, and before she can roll away, he pins her.

One… Two… Three.

She breathes hard beneath him, blinking up at the bright lights of the gym. But her focus isn’t on the lights. It’s on the way he’s not moving. The way he’s still pressed against her, his hands braced on either side of her head. For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, Roman’s gaze flickers downward—just for a second—before he abruptly pushes off her and stands. Y/N exhales sharply, rolling onto her side before pushing herself up.

The guys are still watching, but wisely choose not to comment on the moment. Instead, Sami clears his throat. “Uh, not to brag, but I totally called that pin like ten seconds before it happened.”

Josh scoffs. “Oh, please. We all knew it was coming.”

Jon nods. “Yeah, but she put up a hell of a fight.” He looks at Y/N. “Respect.”

She grins. “Appreciate it.”

Roman, however, isn’t smiling. “You changed the move.”

Y/N turns to him, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah. And? It still worked, didn’t it?”

“I already showed you how to do it properly,” he says, arms crossing.

She shrugs. “And I put my own twist on it.”

“That’s not how it works,” he says, voice even. “You’re under my training.”

She folds her arms. “That doesn’t mean I can’t try new things.”

Sami leans toward Jon and mutters, “This is getting good.”

Jon smacks his chest. “Shut up, man.”

Roman ignores them, his attention solely on Y/N. “The way I showed you works. You don’t need to change it.”

She exhales, shaking her head. “Just because it works your way doesn’t mean it’s the only way.”

His nostrils flare. “It is when I’m the one in charge of training you.”

She huffs. “That’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

Jon and Josh wince like they’ve just witnessed someone stepping on a landmine while Sami quietly hums the Jaws theme. Roman inhales deeply, his patience hanging by a thread. “You four. Out.”

Josh and Jon are up immediately.

“Yup.”

“Say less.”

Sami gives Y/N an exaggerated thumbs-up before following them out. Solo lingers for a beat, his sharp gaze flicking between them before he silently nods and exits. The second the door shuts, the tension in the room triples. Y/N stands firm, arms crossed. “No audience for this part?”

Roman exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to learn respect.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. You know that I respect you, Joe.”

His gaze darkens slightly at the sound of his real name. She steps closer. “But I also think someone should keep your ego in check. And I think that someone might be me.”

His fingers flex. She’s testing him. He knows she is. And the worst part? He likes it. Her eyes don’t waver. She’s challenging him—daring him to react. Roman takes a slow, deep breath, every muscle in his body tight with restraint. She steps closer. He stiffens, his pulse spikes. If she says one more thing, he might just—

No.

Roman exhales sharply and steps back. “Get changed,” he says, his voice rough. “Training’s done.”

Y/N watches him for a second longer, then nods, grabbing her bag. But before she leaves, she looks over her shoulder. “You know,” she muses, “if you really wanted me to stop pushing you, you’d stop reacting.” Then she’s gone.

Roman lets out a slow, controlled breath, running a hand down his face. She’s a fighter that’s for sure, he just doesn’t understand why it’s him she has to fight.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N bounces up and down on her heels as she warms herself up for her match. It’s her first time going up against Bayley and she wanted to give the audience the best show that she could. A small smile graces her face when Jey and Sami walk up to her with bright smiles on their faces, hyping her up as she mentally preps herself. She relishes in their presence, hugging them tightly as they tell her how great she’s going to do. She had seen Jimmy a couple minutes prior but he wanted to go spend some time with Naomi as her match was today as well.

The only thing that makes her nervous is that she hasn’t seen or heard from Roman since being at the arena. He’s normally the first one to walk up to her. Whether it’s to tell her good luck or to remind her of correct form, he’s always the one to find her. But she hasn’t seen him at all and it’s making her nerves spike.

Even when she rolls her eyes at his comments or critiques, it still provides a sense of comfort knowing he’s there watching her match. In a way, she takes it as his way of telling her to go out there and kick some ass.

“You alright Uce?” Jey asks as he notices her looking around, anxiety seeping through her features.

“You’re not worried, right?” Sami folds his arms over his chest with an endearing grin. “ ‘Cause if you are, you shouldn’t be. You’ve been killing it in training. And your mic skills are phenomenal. Every city we’ve gone to loves you.”

Y/N shakes her head, “It’s not that…” she admits, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “It’s just– normally Joe comes to see me before I go out as my mentor or whatever and I haven’t seen him all day so it’s kinda throwing my routine off.”

Jey chuckles, “So now you want to talk to him?” He jokes, nudging her shoulder. “Thought you’d be happy you didn’t have to hear his incessant nagging.”

“Hey man, she’s gotta get her daily dose of pissing him off,” Sami chimes with his own laugh. “The day’s not complete if she doesn’t make him mad at least once.”

“Shut up,” Y/N rolls her eyes, smacking both of them. “I’m serious. It’s just weird he isn’t out here yet.” She glances around the corner one last time, “I don’t think I did anything out of the ordinary to make him not be here.”

“Sweetheart, just relax,” Jey grabs her shoulders softly, smiling gently at her. “He probably just lost track of time or got caught up with some business stuff. He’ll be here to see your match and to correct everything you did wrong once you win.” He slides in a small joke to try and ease her nerves, and it works. Like it always does.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him,” Sami adds. “You keep frowning like that and you’ll get wrinkles.”

“And you too pretty for that,” Jey winks.

Y/N laughs at their antics, but it still doesn’t calm the small storm swirling in her head. She would call or text him, but she’s had her phone in the locker room all day to keep her head in the right place. Avoid outside distractions. But it’s a good thing that she doesn’t know where Roman is or what he’s doing, because if she did, she would be beyond angry. At who? No one knows.

A scowl covers Roman’s lips as he walks through the guys locker room. He knows how late he’s running and he needs to make it out before Y/N’s match to give her some last minute advice. He keeps his face composed, not wanting to show how out of sorts he’s feeling. He’s never missed one of her matches and he doesn’t plan to start today. Especially since this fight against Bayley is opening up a perfect opportunity for Y/N to get her first title shot. Even though he can see her insufferable smirk now as she wins, he still wants to be there.

But as he moves through the space, his ears pick up on a conversation that immediately makes him stop in his tracks.

“She’s only getting this match because of Reigns,” a sneering voice mutters.

Roman’s stride slows. His head turns slightly, eyes narrowing as he spots a small group of guys near the benches. Mostly mid-card wrestlers—guys who like to run their mouths when they think no one important is listening. They blame their lack of success on everyone else but their own incompetence.

“She’s new as hell and already getting to work for a title shot?” another scoffs. “Come on, man. You know why she’s getting all these chances.”

A third voice, deeper and more smug, chimes in. “Yeah, she’s probably sucking Roman off behind the scenes. Ain’t no other reason for her to be moving up this fast.”

Laughter follows, low and conspiratorial. A fourth guy, younger but just as cocky, smirks. “I mean… she is pretty. If she wanted to use me to get to the top, I wouldn’t say no.”

The laughter grows louder. And then— Silence. Because he’s there… And no, not Roman Reigns.

Joe Anoa‘i.

He looms behind them, shoulders squared, his entire presence heavy with rage. His dark eyes bore into them like a warning shot before the kill, his face unreadable—calm in a way that’s so much worse. The guys freeze.

“Say that again.” The quiet command cuts through the locker room like a blade.

None of them move. None of them speak. Joe tilts his head, stepping forward just enough that the air shifts, thick and suffocating. “You think that shit’s funny?” His voice is low, slow—like a storm rolling in, inevitable and inescapable. “Think it’s real easy to talk about someone who ain’t here to defend themselves, huh?”

The guy who made the worst comment swallows hard. “Hey, man, it was just—”

Joe is in his face before he can finish, his presence alone making the guy shrink back. “I don’t give a damn what you think it was,” Joe growls. “What you’re not gonna do is disrespect her like that again. Not when every single one of you knows she can run circles around you.” No one breathes or even dares to make eye contact with the man. Joe’s jaw ticks as he takes another step forward, ensuring that every single one of them feels the weight of his anger. “I promise you—if I ever hear any of you say some shit like that about her again, I’ll make sure you don’t just walk out of here. I’ll make sure you’re carried out.” His voice drops even lower, dangerous. “On a stretcher.”

A tense, suffocating pause. Joe exhales sharply, nostrils flaring, eyes still burning with barely restrained fury. Then—he scoffs. A single, sharp sound. “That’s what I thought.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, fists still clenched, mind still racing. He shouldn’t feel this protective over her. He knows that. But the thought of anyone talking about Y/N like that—disrespecting her, reducing her to something she damn sure isn’t—makes his blood boil. And if they ever did it again? He’d make sure they never forgot who they were dealing with.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N was on an absolute high after her match. She just won against Bayley of all people. An absolute legend in the locker room and someone everyone loves. It made her feel like she was truly working her way up in the business. She was proud of herself, however, Roman’s absence in the beginning lingered in the back of her mind for the whole match. It made her angry that he wasn’t there. It’s part of his job to show up and be there for her. That’s what mentors do.

Or maybe she just… wanted him there. Wanted his presence.

She feels a wide array of arms and voices enveloping her in congratulations as Solo, Sami, Jimmy, Jey, and even Naomi come to celebrate her big win. It takes a minute or so but something begins to feel off for her. A sharp pain shoots down her leg and she groans. Bayley had targeted her left leg a bit more than she was expecting, but she felt fine. Until now at least.

“I think I need to sit down…” Y/N tells them, causing every one of them to share a concerned look.

Josh is the first one to notice the small wince in her eyebrows, “What’s going on?” He asks worriedly.

“My leg,” she says, nodding down to it as they guide her over to one of the many stray pieces of furniture backstage.

Sami lets out an audible gasp as he looks at her knee, “Oh my God,” he kneels down in front of her. “That’s definitely not normal.”

Her right knee is battered and bruised from the many times Bayley ran her into the posts and turnbuckles. There were only a few times where it hit harder than anticipated, but she wasn’t expecting it to look this bad. It’s swollen beyond belief, already starting to have a dark bruise surrounding it. It looks very different from her good leg.

“Holy shit,” Trinity places her hands on the site gently making Y/N bite the inside of her cheek with a quiet groan. “Yeah, my bet is that it’s dislocated.” She shoots the younger woman an empathetic look, having experienced a similar injury herself. “I’m sorry hun, but we’re gonna have to get a paramedic or someone over here to push it back in place.”

Y/N winces again but nods, “Okay, yeah, let’s do that,” she manages to grunt out as the adrenaline wears off more and more.

Trinity assigns everyone a job to do to make sure this is as quick and painless as possible. Y/N’s only instruction was to stay where she was, which only made her chuckle because it’s not like she could walk very far.

After a few moments sitting alone, she couldn’t help but grind her teeth together as her knee throbbed relentlessly. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, counting down the seconds until someone could fix her current problem. The only thing she can do until one of them comes back with the paramedics is mentally prepare herself for the pain that comes with putting her knee back in place.

She heard the footsteps before she saw him. A slow, steady stride that was distinctly him. And then, rounding the corner with his usual brooding expression, Roman appeared, his gaze immediately locking onto her injury.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was low, controlled, but the storm in his eyes betrayed his composure. His arms crossed tightly over his chest as he took in the state she was in—her bruised and swollen knee, the way she sat awkwardly to avoid aggravating it, and worst of all, the fact that she was alone.

Y/N exhaled sharply, looking down at her knee. “Bayley happened,” she muttered, flexing her fingers against the cushion beside her. “Guess I took more hits than I realized.”

Roman’s eyes swept over her injury before narrowing. “And why are you sitting here by yourself?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an unmistakable layer of frustration beneath it.

She should be mad at him. And she was. Or at least, she had been. But now, as the anger simmered down, it left behind something softer—something she wasn’t prepared to feel.

So instead of snapping at him, she just looked up, eyes filled with something vulnerable as she asked quietly, “Where were you?”

Roman’s jaw ticked. He knew she wasn’t just asking about now. She meant before the match. Before she stepped into the ring with Bayley, looking for his usual last-minute pep talk or critique. And he had no good excuse—at least, not one he could give her.

Y/N watched as his lips parted slightly, as if he were about to answer, but nothing came.

She sighed, shaking her head before looking away. “Never mind. Forget it.” A humorless chuckle escaped her lips, but it lacked its usual spark. “I don’t know why I assumed you’d be there for everything.”

That stung.

Roman felt his temper flare at her words, not because they were unfair, but because she genuinely believed them. He crouched down in front of her, leaning in slightly, his presence commanding as always.

“I’ll always be there,” he said, voice firm. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.

Her chest ached, but it wasn’t from her knee. She quickly looked away, suddenly feeling too exposed under his gaze.

Roman cleared his throat and nodded toward her leg. “You need to take better care of yourself,” he muttered. “You should’ve tapped out if it was this bad.”

Y/N let out a scoff, shaking her head. “Of course, even when I’m sitting here crippled, you still find a way to lecture me.”

Roman smirked slightly. “Someone’s gotta knock some sense into you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

But then, his expression softened, just slightly. “For what it’s worth…” He tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers. “I still saw you kick ass out there.”

Y/N raised a brow at him, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “Kick ass? So does that mean you don’t have a single critique for me this time?”

Roman gave a slow shrug. “It’d be mean to tell you while you’re injured.”

Y/N let out a genuine laugh at that, and for a second, the pain in her knee was completely forgotten. Then, without thinking, Roman reached forward, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It was a simple gesture. Nothing he hadn’t done before. But this time… it felt different. The second his fingertips grazed her skin, something shifted in the air between them. It was like the world had tilted slightly off its axis, like everything had narrowed down to just this.

Her breath hitched. His hand lingered for a moment too long. And suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about her injury, or her frustration, or the match she had just won.

She was thinking about him.

Roman’s fingers curled into a loose fist as he pulled back, as if he was stopping himself from doing something reckless. His throat bobbed slightly, and Y/N could swear she saw the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his normally unreadable expression.

And then—

“Alright, we’re back!”

Jey’s voice sliced through the moment like a knife.

Roman was on his feet in an instant, stepping back just as Jimmy, Sami, and the others came rushing in with the paramedics.

Y/N exhaled slowly, blinking a few times as she tried to process whatever the hell had just happened. But judging by the way Roman was standing a little too stiffly beside her, arms crossed tightly over his chest, she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been a couple weeks since Y/N’s match with Bayley and she’s been on a winning streak ever since. Her knee healed up quite nicely, occasionally needing to wear a brace to keep the pressure off of it, but other than that, it’s been great.

The only thing that seems to have shifted slightly is her dynamic with Joe. Since that night, things have been a bit more… tense than usual. They still argue and challenge each other like they used to, but now instead of it ending with one of them rolling their eyes and leaving, it ends with one of them getting in the other’s face and staring at each other for way too long to be considered normal.

Even during training, Y/N finds herself shivering whenever he places his hands on her to help correct a move she messed up on. Anytime he’s around her, whispering in her ear how to use the correct form, her mind fogs and she can no longer focus on what they were doing. It frustrates him to no end because he perceives her as being off her game. And in a way she is, but it’s not her fault.

It’s his.

For being sculpted by the damn Greek gods. He’s intoxicating. She didn’t realize how genuinely attractive he was because she was always so focused on making him mad. But now she wants to make him mad for other reasons.

Now she wants to irritate him so he feels the need to get in her space. To invade her senses with everything that is Roman. She knows it’s more than wrong for her to feel this way about the man who is mentoring her, but she can’t help it. He’s managed to worm his way into her mind and she doesn’t mind his residency.

Her knuckles rap on the door to his private office three times. She bites the inside of her cheek until a small “come in” allows her access into the room. She slowly opens the door, her breath hitching when she sees what’s in front of her.

It’s nothing scandalous. Just Joe hunched over his desk, his hair pulled back in a manbun, a tight fitting t-shirt and sweats adorning his body as he fills out some paperwork. But the soft glow of the yellow light and the way his face isn’t pinched so tightly, it makes him look majestic.

“Jon said you wanted to see me,” she says, taking a step closer to his desk, arms folded over her chest.

“Yeah, I do,” he nods as he places his pen down, folding his hands together as he leans forward. Y/N can’t help the way her eyes travel to his biceps, the way they flex with just the smallest of movements makes her heart hammer against her ribcage.

There’s a long moment of silence until she realizes she’s been staring for a bit too long. “About…?” She asks with her usual level of sass.

Y/N watches as Joe leans back in his chair, a slow inhale filling his broad chest. He studies her, his dark eyes dragging over her face like he’s weighing something, considering his approach. She’s used to his intensity by now, but something about the way he’s looking at her tonight sets her nerves on edge.

“I think,” he finally says, voice smooth and deliberate, “we need to revisit your answer from a few months ago.”

She blinks. “My—what?”

His lips twitch, just barely. “Your answer. About the Bloodline.”

Y/N shifts her weight, arms tightening over her chest as she exhales sharply. “Seriously? That’s what this is about?”

Joe tilts his head, unfazed by her exasperation. “Yeah. It is.”

Y/N lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I thought we already settled this.”

“I didn’t.”

Her eyes snap to his, but he’s already rising from his chair, moving with that quiet, lethal confidence that always makes her feel like she’s on the verge of being devoured.

“Y/N,” he says, stepping closer, voice dropping just slightly. “You’ve been running with us for months now. Winning matches. Representing us. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re already part of this family.”

She clenches her jaw, heart thudding. “I told you—I don’t do hierarchies.”

Joe hums, as if he expected that answer. He reaches for something on his desk, lifting it into view.

The Bloodline jacket.

The sight of it sends an odd rush through her—one she really doesn’t want to analyze.

“This belongs to you,” Joe murmurs, stepping even closer.

Y/N swallows, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Joe lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re the only one who hasn’t accepted it yet. Everybody else already knows where you stand.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “And where exactly is that?”

Joe just watches her, the answer in his silence.

It’s in the way Solo always has her back. In the way the Usos claim her as one of their own. In the way Paul Heyman talks about her like she’s already sworn her allegiance.

She is part of this. She just hasn’t said it yet.

Y/N exhales slowly, shaking her head. “I don’t need a jacket to prove I’m good enough to run with you.”

Joe’s smirk is slow, dangerous. “No. But it’d be nice to hear you say it.”

Her breath catches slightly. She can feel the shift now. The sudden weight in the air between them. The way his voice has dipped just enough to make her stomach tighten.

“Put it on,” Joe says, softer this time, stepping around her. The move is so smooth, so fluid, that she doesn’t even realize what’s happening until he’s right behind her.

Her pulse hammers.

Because now he’s close. So close she can feel the heat radiating from his body, the soft tickle of his breath against the side of her neck. Y/N’s whole body locks up, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. She should step away. She should shake her head and make some smart-ass comment and put space between them before this tension swallows her whole.

But she doesn’t. Because for some godforsaken reason, she loves it. She likes the way his presence wraps around her like something tangible. Likes the way he makes it impossible to think straight.

His fingers brush over her shoulder, guiding the jacket into place like a crown being placed on royalty.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice a low, steady hum against her skin. “Acknowledge me.”

Y/N exhales, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before she forces them back open. She doesn’t do this. She doesn’t submit. And no matter how badly her body is betraying her right now, she won’t start with him.

So with every ounce of control she has left, she steps forward, letting the jacket slip from her shoulders before turning to face him. Joe watches her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t take orders,” she says, voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

A slow smirk curves his lips. “I know.”

There’s something about the way he says it—like he isn’t mad. Like he likes this push and pull just as much as she does. Y/N clenches her jaw, forcing herself to ignore the way her stomach flips at the sight of that goddamn smirk. “So that’s it?” she asks, tilting her chin. “You’re just gonna let it go?”

Joe exhales through his nose, looking almost amused. “You think I’m gonna stop just because you’re being stubborn?”

Y/N scoffs. “I think you’re gonna try.”

Joe’s eyes darken slightly, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. She should really stop provoking him. But God, it’s fun.

Before either of them can say another word, the door swings open.

“Hey, Uce, we got—”

Josh stops short, his eyes flicking between them.

Joe takes a step back, his posture shifting, expression smoothing back into something unreadable. Y/N clenches her jaw, pulse still thundering in her ears as Josh gives them both a slow, knowing look.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters under his breath before shaking his head. “We’ll talk later, big dog.”

Joe doesn’t look at her as Jey exits, but Y/N feels his attention shift back to her. The air between them is different now. Electric. Dangerous. And as much as she wants to put off her decision—she knows she won’t be able to. One way or the other, Roman’s going to get an answer. Y/N just doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to stand her ground with him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Y/N saunters her way to the ring. It’s a buzzing Friday night in Atlanta Georgia as her theme music echoes around the large stadium. Y/N stops dead center of the walkway, dropping it low which causes whistles to emerge from the audience. She laughs, stopping to say hi to fans and sign posters on her way.

Roman, Jey, Jimmy, Sami, Solo, and Paul Heyman watch with a mix of curiosity, irritation, amusement, and anger as she had just interrupted their segment. None of them knew this was planned beside her which is what made their reactions even better.

It was all Paul Levesque’s idea. To have her go out and interrupt an important moment to cause some tension. The crowd loves her attitude so it was good for business to do something like this.

Y/N moves toward the steps, taking her time, soaking in the moment before slipping into the ring. She doesn’t acknowledge the tension immediately, instead adjusting the leather jacket over her shoulders before finally turning to face Roman.

The Tribal Chief.

She lifts the mic, tapping it twice before speaking, her voice carrying over the noise. “So this is what a Bloodline family meeting looks like,” she muses, glancing around. “I gotta say, it’s a little culty.”

Roman stares at her blankly as the room buzzes with anticipation and tension. Everyone’s eyes flicker between Roman and Y/N, the Tribal Chief staring her down like she just committed a war crime. Y/N can’t help but chuckle. She tilts her head, running her tongue over her teeth before lifting her mic again. “You don’t look happy to see me, Chief.”

Roman exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “You got a habit of interrupting things that don’t concern you.”

She scoffs, pacing a slow circle around them. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” She gestures around the arena, the thousands of screaming fans. “This? This concerns me. Everything concerns me.” She shrugs. “Guess that’s the price of being a free agent. No orders. No one to answer to.” Her smirk sharpens as she turns back to him. “Unlike you.”

Jey lets out a sharp laugh before he schools his face, coughing into his fist. Jimmy’s grin widens, clearly entertained, while Sami presses his lips together like he’s trying to become invisible.

Roman, however, remains still. Controlled. Watching.

Y/N clicks her tongue. “You like to call yourself the Head of the Table, right?” She steps forward, deliberately closing the space between them. “But from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just another guy scared to eat alone.”

The tension in the ring spikes. Jey’s brows shoot up. Even Solo shifts slightly, his gaze flickering to Roman.

Y/N takes another step, lifting a hand to count off on her fingers. “You need your cousins to fight your battles. You need your Wise Man to do your talking. Hell, you even needed Sami here to boost morale. But you?” She gestures to him with her mic. “Take all that away, and what are you?”

The crowd lets out an “OHHHHH!” in response, feeding off her confidence, her defiance.

Roman doesn’t react immediately. He just tilts his head slightly, as if considering her words. Then he finally lifts his mic. “You don’t stand with us. We know that You’ve made that clear.”

“Damn right, I don’t.” Y/N folds her arms, her eyes burning with challenge. “I don’t fall in line. I lead.”

Roman hums low in his throat, nodding as he steps closer, his presence suffocating. “That why you’re out here? You trying to prove something?”

“Nah.” Y/N tilts her chin up, her smirk unwavering. “Just thought someone should finally tell you the truth.”

Roman watches her, dark eyes unwavering, before he slowly shakes his head. “Nah.” His voice is calm, controlled. “Nah, you know what I think? You’re out here because you want my attention.”

Y/N raises a brow. “Oh, you think so?”

Roman exhales slowly, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to something almost intimate despite the thousands watching. “You want to stand across from me. Test me. Push me.” His head tilts slightly. “You want to be noticed. But sweetheart, the only person here who deserves to be noticed… who deserves acknowledgment is me,” his voice drops an octave making the crowd erupt. “I am your Tribal Chief.”

The crowd screams, chanting, urging her to do as he asks, “Acknowledge him! Acknowledge him!”

Y/N’s smirk falters for half a second before she lets out a scoff. “That’s cute, really. The whole cult leader act.” She leans in slightly, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You need my validation that bad?”

Roman just watches her, waiting. The crowd chants louder, the entire stadium shaking.

Y/N exhales, shaking her head. “Yeah, sorry, big guy. Not happening.” She shifts her stance, glancing at his cousins before looking back at him. “If anything, maybe this table needs a new head. Maybe… you should acknowledge me.”

There’s a flicker in his expression—something dangerous, something unreadable. “You better watch your mouth.”

And that’s when she makes her mistake. She clicks her tongue, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Or what, Roman? You gonna have your lapdogs do your dirty work for you again?”

The air shifts instantly. Jey’s grin vanishes. Jimmy stops smirking. Even Sami looks alarmed. Roman doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Then, he exhales slowly, hands on his hips, before he turns slightly—to no one in particular. “Solo. Jimmy.”

That’s it. No further instruction. No elaboration.

And before Y/N can fully process what’s happening, hands grab her arms, yanking her back.

“What the hell?” she snaps, struggling against them. The crowd erupts in a chaotic mix of cheers and shouts, but she barely hears them over the sudden shock of the moment.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Jimmy has a firm grip on one arm, but it’s Solo who truly locks her down, his strength damn near unshakable. Y/N thrashes, planting her feet, but they don’t stop, dragging her out of the ring as she shouts, “You seriously this pressed, Roman?!”

Roman doesn’t react. Doesn’t stop them. Just watches.

And as she’s hauled up the ramp, the last thing she sees before disappearing behind the curtain is him standing there, unmoved, unreadable.

But still watching.

She kicks and yells at Solo and Jimmy as they drag her to Roman’s office. Some of the other wrestlers watch as she’s taken. She sends them all pleading looks, silently begging for someone to save her but no one does. A part of her is genuinely fearful that she crossed a line, but he knew it was all acting, right? He had to. It’s part of their job, their characters. The world knows he’s offered her a spot at the table and she’s been very vocal about where she stands. It aligned with their story, so why is he doing this? Could it be to add to it and she’s worried for nothing?

Jimmy and Solo open the door to the room, allowing her to walk inside. Both men look like they want to say something, to apologize, wish her luck, save her, but they decide against it. Y/N sends them a reassuring smile before they walk off. She looks over her shoulder for a split second and suddenly the door closes with a small click, indicating the door has been locked.

She turns back around and sees a seething Roman Reigns standing in front of her. His chest rises and falls with every breath, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at the mouthy woman in front of him. He’s been slowly losing it since the day he met her and today might be the day where he disregards the importance of professional boundaries.

Today might be the day where he snaps.

The silence between them stretches tight, humming with something thick and electric.

Y/N stands her ground, her breath even despite the wildfire running through her veins. But Roman—he’s not still. His fists flex at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. Like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s fighting the urge to do something neither of them can take back.

Good.

She wants to push him.

Because he’s been pushing her for weeks, forcing her into this—into whatever this is. The way he looks at her like he sees everything. The way he steps too close, speaks too low, lingers too long. She’s not stupid. She’s noticed. But he won’t admit it. Not outright.

So she’ll make him.

She tilts her head slightly, keeping her voice cool. “If you have something to say, Chief, say it.”

Roman exhales slowly through his nose, his jaw flexing. “You think this is a joke?”

Y/N smirks. “I think you like being in charge of everyone in your life, and it gives you an insatiable itch that you can’t scratch knowing you can’t break me. That you can’t get me to beg for your validation.”

His fists clench. There it is. A crack in the armor. A flicker of something darker in his eyes.

Y/N steps closer, feeling reckless, feeling emboldened by the way his breathing changes, the way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes track every single movement she makes like he can’t help himself.

She lifts a brow. “Or am I wrong?”

Roman doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But the air shifts. Tightens.

And that’s when she knows she’s right. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You don’t like that I don’t fall in line. That I can read you like a damn book. That I can see through all those stoic walls you put up. I see what you hide from the world.”

Roman’s jaw ticks. She takes another step forward. “What is it, huh?” she pushes. “You bark orders at everyone else, and they listen, but me? I don’t make it easy for you, do I?”

Roman exhales, slow, measured. “You need to watch yourself, Y/N.”

She ignores the warning. “No, I think you do.” She sees it again—the flicker of something barely restrained. So she keeps going. “Because you can pretend all you want, but I see it,” she murmurs. “The way you look at me.”

Roman’s gaze darkens. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

She tilts her head. “Am I?”

His fists flex again, and she doesn’t miss the way his breath catches, just slightly, at the challenge in her tone.

“Tell me, Chief,” she continues, voice smooth, sharp. “Did you like it?”

His brow furrows slightly, just barely. “Like what?”

“The jacket.”

His entire body tenses.

Bingo.

Y/N smirks, stepping even closer, forcing him to either back away or stand his ground. He doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t.

“I saw the way you looked at me when I wore it,” she says, voice quieter now, more pointed. “I saw the way your grip tightened, the way your jaw clenched. You couldn’t stop staring.”

Roman exhales sharply, his eyes locked onto hers with a fire that wasn’t there before. Y/N tilts her head. “Why is that?” Roman doesn’t answer so she presses further. “Was it because I didn’t belong in it?” she muses, watching him closely. “Or was it because I did? That the simple thought of me walking around in your colors did something to you?”

That’s when it happens. The shift. The moment his restraint snaps. Roman moves before she can blink. One second, he’s standing in front of her, barely keeping himself in check—

The next, he’s shoving her back, forcing her down into the chair behind her.

The movement is fast, precise, effortless. His hands grip the arms of the chair, caging her in, his face inches from hers, his body looming over hers like a storm about to break.

Y/N’s breath catches, her pulse hammering. Roman stares at her, breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp, deliberate movements.

And then—

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he murmurs, voice low, rough, dangerous.

Y/N swallows, her skin burning where he hovers, where his presence presses down on her like gravity. She wants to speak. Wants to throw something back at him. But she can’t. Because she feels it now. The weight of it. Of every single one of their battles, their challenges, their little wars. They weren’t just about dominance.

She suddenly finds it hard to maintain eye contact, but Roman can see her trying to mentally escape. He quickly takes her jaw into his hand, holding it in place so she can’t look away from him. She got to talk, so now it’s his turn.

“Don’t look away from me.”

Y/N can feel the chills surge through her body at the command. His hand is warm on her icy skin, causing her cheeks to flush from the actual heat and the situation. She blinks slowly, her eyelashes fluttering which makes Roman suck in a sharp breath. The innocence in her face is more than misleading. Looking at her, anyone would think she’s nice, well-mannered, and behaved.

How wrong they would be.

Roman exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips for half a second before flicking back up. “I shouldn’t be looking at you the way that I do,” he says, voice quieter now, but no less intense.

Y/N’s throat tightens. She breathes, steady despite the fire running through her veins. “Then stop.”

His lips twitch, just barely. “You think it’s that simple?” he asks, tilting his head.

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I think you’re scared of what happens if you give in.”

Roman hums, his grip tightening slightly on the chair. “I think you look at me the same way I look at you.”

Her stomach flips. She doesn’t answer. Because if she does—she might just crack.

“You look at me like you want me to do something about it,” he murmurs.

Y/N’s heart continues to hammer at a rate that can’t be considered healthy. His face is so close to hers. If she simply leaned forward, she could satisfy the craving of wanting his lips on hers.

Roman exhales slowly, his thumb grazing the underside of her jaw. “Say it,” he murmurs.

Y/N swallows. “Say what?”

“That you don’t feel it.” His voice is almost a whisper now, but it’s rough, heavy with something dangerous. “That you don’t feel this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. She should lie. She should laugh. She should roll her eyes, shake her head, tell him he’s imagining things. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she exhales slowly, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “Now look who’s playing dangerous.”

Roman’s grip on the chair tightens. “And you don’t mind playing high risk, do you?”

Y/N lets the smallest smirk touch her lips. “No,” she murmurs. “I don’t.”

And just like that— Roman lets her go.

The absence of his touch is immediate, almost jarring, but Y/N refuses to back down. She holds his gaze for a long moment, neither of them speaking, neither of them breaking.

Then, finally, Roman exhales, voice quieter now. “This isn’t over.”

Y/N’s pulse is still racing, but she smirks. “I would despair if it was.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N sits in the locker room, her head tilted back against the cool metal of the lockers, eyes shut as she tries to steady the storm in her head. But it’s useless. Roman’s voice is still there. The feeling of his fingers on her jaw, the weight of his stare—every moment of their last confrontation is still there. And it’s driving her insane.

The worst part? It’s not just the tension, the fights, the way they keep pushing each other to the edge. It’s the fact that deep down, something in her craves it. Craves him. And that? That’s unacceptable.

A sharp sigh leaves her lips, frustration simmering beneath her skin as she rubs her hands over her face. “Fucking hell,” she mutters under her breath.

“That bad, huh?”

She jerks her head up at the sound of Seth’s voice. He’s leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest, his expression somewhere between amused and knowing.

Y/N groans, dropping her head back. “Please don’t start.”

Seth chuckles, pushing off the lockers and dropping onto the bench beside her. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

She shoots him a look. “You’re thinking it.”

“Well, yeah,” Seth admits, smirking. “You’re sitting here, looking like you wanna put your head through a wall. And considering your favorite hobby lately has been trying to start a war with Roman, I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s the reason you look like you’re about to lose your damn mind.”

Y/N scoffs. “I am not starting a war with him.”

Seth raises an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am. But it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”

Seth hums. “Mm. Sure.”

She glares at him. “Don’t ‘mm, sure’ me.”

Seth just smirks again, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Alright, so tell me—what’d he say after he had his goonies drag you to his office?”

Y/N exhales sharply. “It’s not even—ugh. It’s not just one thing. It’s everything. The way he looks at me, the way he gets in my face, the way he acts like I belong to him or something.” She throws her hands up. “It’s like he’s always there, always pushing, always—watching me.”

Seth tilts his head, studying her. “And that bothers you?”

She blinks. “Obviously.”

Seth shrugs. “You sure about that?”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Seth sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know you like to fight. It’s what you do. But if this was just about him trying to control you, you’d have walked away by now.”

Y/N tenses. “I have walked away.”

Seth snorts. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

She falls silent.

Seth gives her a knowing look. “Y/N, you’re not fighting him because you hate what he represents. You’re fighting him because you feel it too, and you don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Her breath catches. “No,” she says automatically. “That’s not—”

“Then why do you care so much?” Seth challenges.

Y/N clenches her jaw.

Seth exhales, shaking his head. “You wanna know why he gets under your skin? Why you can’t get him out of your head?”

She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t stop him, either.

Seth leans back, his expression shifting, no longer teasing but thoughtful. “Because you don’t trust it,” he says simply.

Y/N stiffens.

“You don’t trust that someone like him—someone as powerful as he is—can want you without trying to own you,” Seth continues. “And maybe, yeah, maybe a part of him does want to own you. But not in the way you think.”

Her throat feels tight.

“You think he wants control?” Seth shakes his head. “No. He wants you. And that scares the hell out of you.”

Y/N swallows hard, looking away. “You’re wrong.”

Seth smirks. “Then why are you still sitting here like you’re trying to solve the world’s hardest riddle?”

She says nothing.

And Seth? Seth just pats her shoulder before standing up, his voice lighter now as he walks away. “Think about it, princess.”

Later that night, Y/N finds herself wandering around aimlessly as she waits for Jey and Jimmy to finish their match. The backstage halls are quieter than usual, but Y/N barely notices. Her boots echo against the concrete floor as she walks aimlessly, lost in thought, Seth’s words playing over and over in her head.

"You don’t trust that someone like him—someone as powerful as he is—can want you without trying to own you."

"He wants you. And that scares the hell out of you."

Her jaw clenches as she swipes a hand down her face. He’s wrong. He has to be wrong. Because if he’s right—

No. She won’t let herself finish that thought.

Y/N exhales sharply, trying to shake the feeling, but it clings to her like a second skin. Her body is restless, like an itch she can’t scratch, an answer she can’t find. She needs to move, to do something—anything to distract herself.

Then she hears it. Roman’s voice. She stops in her tracks.

It’s low, rough with something she can’t quite place, but there’s a weight to it that makes her breath catch in her throat. The door to his locker room is cracked open just enough to let the sound slip through, an unguarded moment not meant for anyone else to hear. She shouldn’t listen, but she does.

Inside, Roman runs a hand over his face, his fingers dragging down his beard as he exhales heavily. “I don’t know what else to do,” he mutters, voice strained.

Paul, standing beside him, folds his hands in front of him. “She’s stubborn.”

A short, humorless chuckle leaves Roman’s lips. “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Paul tilts his head. “She fights you at every turn. That doesn’t surprise me. But what does concern me…” He hesitates.

Roman looks up at him, already knowing where this is going. “Go ahead, Wise Man. Say it.”

Paul sighs, carefully choosing his words. “I think you’re making this personal.”

Roman scoffs, shaking his head. “It is personal.”

Paul studies him for a moment. “More than it should be?”

Roman tenses. That’s the problem, isn’t it? It is more personal than it should be. At first, it was just about bringing her in, keeping her close, making sure she understood who she belonged to. It was about loyalty, about keeping her safe in the way he deemed necessary. But somewhere along the way—he stopped thinking about it as just a responsibility. Somewhere along the way—it became about her. Roman exhales sharply. “You don’t get it, Paul.”

Paul raises a brow. “Then help me understand.”

Roman leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together as he stares at the floor. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve given her space. I’ve given her time. I’ve tried forcing her hand. None of it works.” He lifts his gaze, eyes dark with frustration. “She’s still fighting me.”

Paul hums thoughtfully. “She’s also scared.”

Roman’s eyes flicker. “Of me?”

Paul shakes his head. “No. Of what you mean to her.”

Roman stills and Paul steps forward slightly, his voice careful. “She’s never had someone like you before. Someone who watches over her. Someone who sees her.” He tilts his head. “And I don’t think she knows what to do with that.”

Silence stretches between them.

“I’m not trying to control her,” Roman says quietly. “I just…” He trails off, voice rough around the edges. His fingers tighten together. “I don’t want her to be alone in this.”

Paul watches him for a long moment. Then he exhales, nodding slowly. “You care for her.”

Roman’s jaw tightens. “She’s one of mine.”

Paul doesn’t look convinced. “It’s more than that. I can see it. She’s more than just numbers to you.”

Roman exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face again. He doesn’t answer. Because what is there to say?

Outside the door, Y/N can barely breathe. Her pulse pounds in her ears, her hands clenched at her sides as she tries to process what she just heard. She wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting him to be struggling just as much as she was. Because he is struggling. She hears it in his voice, the weight behind his words. She feels it. It isn’t just about dominance or control for him. It’s about her.

It’s about them.

The realization makes something shift inside her, something she can’t ignore any longer. Because if she’s been fighting this— So has he. If she’s been pushing him away— He’s been holding himself back. Her breath catches.

Seth was right.

The reason Roman gets under her skin isn’t because she hates him. It’s because she’s terrified of what it means to want him. To trust him. To let herself be his. And for the first time, she wonders… What if she stopped fighting? What if she acknowledged him?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Looking at herself in the mirror, Y/N couldn’t believe what she was doing. She shrugs on the familiar black and red colors, a small smirk on her face as she admires how she looks in the mirror. Roman has his own segment in the next few minutes and she intends to make it one he’ll never forget.

After everything that’s happened between them, she’s finally come to realize that fighting him is only a way of trying to deny how she really felt about Joe and what he meant to her. She was trying hard to fight his control because truthfully, she wouldn’t mind belonging to him.

Her eyes dance over the Bloodline jacket that fits her far too well, her fingers dancing over the fabric. She runs her fingers over the stitching, the weight of it heavier than she expected. He’s been waiting for her to wear it. To claim her place.

And for the first time— She thinks she might actually want to.

This time It’s not about defiance. It’s about choice. It’s about him. And this time… She’s finally ready to choose.

The arena is electric. The crowd is still buzzing from the match that just ended, the energy thick with excitement, with awe, with dominance. Roman Reigns stands in the center of the ring, championship slung over his shoulder, sweat glistening against his skin as he takes in the sea of fans, the deafening chants of his name.

Another victory. Another opponent put down.

Whoever stood across from him tonight had already become an afterthought. It didn’t matter who it was—Cody, Seth, AJ—because the result was always the same.

Roman Reigns. On top. As always.

He lifts the mic to his lips, smirking as he lets the audience’s reaction settle.

But then— The music hits. Her music. And Roman’s entire demeanor shifts.

The crowd erupts at the familiar sound, voices rising in a chaotic mixture of cheers and gasps. The camera pans back to the entrance, but Roman doesn’t turn. He doesn’t need to. His grip tightens around the mic, his fingers flexing, his jaw clenching. He already knows what this is. Another interruption. Another challenge. Another night where she tries to test him.

He exhales through his nose, fighting the instinct to roll his eyes. She’s been doing this for weeks now, throwing herself into his moments, standing against him with that fire in her eyes, acting like she has any kind of control in this game.

And tonight, she’s trying it again. At least—that’s what he thinks.

Then he sees her. And for the first time in a long time—Roman Reigns is shocked, the breath feeling like it’s been knocked out of his lungs. Because Y/N isn’t strutting out in her usual gear, not in the colors she’s worn every time she’s stepped onto this stage before.

No.

She’s wearing his colors. Black and red. The Bloodline colors. And not just that. The Bloodline jacket. His jacket. The one she’s refused to put on, the one she’s ignored, rejected—until now.

Roman’s body goes still, his expression unreadable, but inside, his pulse is pounding. She steps onto the stage slowly, deliberately, her smirk unmistakable as she scans the crowd, soaking in their reaction. She knows what she’s doing. The way she walks, the way her fingers play with the edges of the jacket, the way she makes a show of it. Roman’s eyes darken. She’s teasing him. Pushing him. But this time—it’s different. Because for the first time, she’s not pushing him away. She’s coming closer.

Y/N starts her slow descent down the ramp, taking her time, milking the moment. Roman doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off her, his championship hanging loosely from his grip. The closer she gets, the more the tension builds. By the time she reaches the steps, the anticipation in the air is thick. She climbs into the ring smoothly, sliding between the ropes with ease, and then—finally—she stands before him.

Roman stares down at her, his breath slow, controlled, his face still a mask of dominance. But inside, he feels the fight in his veins, the war between wanting to push her back or pull her in. Then she smiles. That smile. The one that tells him she knows what she’s doing to him. She lifts the mic, tilting her head slightly, her voice laced with amusement. "You like what you see, Chief?"

A muscle in Roman’s jaw ticks. The crowd erupts. A slow smirk plays on her lips as she takes another step forward, intentionally making him feel the heat of her presence, making sure he sees every inch of her in that jacket. She turns in a slow circle, dragging her fingers along the hem of the fabric, as if showing off. Roman’s fingers twitch. She stops in front of him again, the playful tilt of her head only fueling the tension stretching between them. "You look surprised," she muses, eyes flickering over his face, watching his every reaction.

Roman exhales sharply through his nose. “Should I be?”

She hums, trailing her fingers along the sleeve of the jacket now. “I don’t know, Tribal Chief. Should you be?”

Roman clenches his jaw. She’s testing him. Again. But it’s different this time. Because now, she’s his. Even if she doesn’t fully realize it yet. His voice is lower when he speaks, edged with something darker, something controlled. “Why are you wearing that?”

Y/N runs a hand down the front of the jacket, smoothing the fabric over her frame, and then—without warning—she reaches out, her fingers ghosting over his bicep. Roman’s muscles tighten instinctively beneath her touch. She doesn’t move away. "I just figured it was about time," she murmurs, her tone laced with something dangerously close to sweet.

Roman’s nostrils flare. “Figured what was about time?”

She smiles again—soft, slow, knowing. "For me to look this good in your colors."

Roman clenches his fists once again. The crowd is losing their minds, but Roman barely hears them over the sound of his own thoughts. Over the heat building in his chest, in his veins. She’s pushing him to the edge of his own restraint. And she knows it. He watches her, silent, his dark eyes burning into hers. “You think this is a game?”

Y/N bites her lip, amusement flickering in her gaze. “No. But I do think this is fun.”

Roman fights the urge to exhale too hard. Fights the urge to reach for her, to do something. He tilts his head, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “And you think wearing that makes you one of us now?”

She smirks. “Maybe.”

Roman watches her for another long second, studying her face, trying to find anything in her expression that might tell him what she’s really thinking.

And then she turns to the crowd. Her gaze sweeps over them before she lifts the microphone again. "I think it’s time to accept my rightful place at the table, no?"

The arena explodes. Roman feels something shift in the air—something real. She turns back to face him, standing tall. And then she lifts her hand, raising her finger in the air. The acknowledgment. The submission. The choice. Then, locking eyes with him, steady and unshaken. "I acknowledge you."

Roman doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. Because for weeks, for months, she has fought him. Denied him. And now— Now she’s standing in his ring, wearing his jacket, looking him in the eyes and giving in. By choice.

Roman clenches his jaw, his chest rising and falling with every controlled breath, forcing himself to stay composed. Because every instinct in his body is screaming at him to grab her. To claim her. To remind her who she just gave herself to. But he doesn’t. Because he is the Tribal Chief. He is in control. He forces a slow, measured smirk to tug at his lips, his voice dropping to something only she can hear.

"Took you long enough."

The crowd erupts. Y/N just grins. And for the first time— She feels like she belongs.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Walking backstage, Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Roman has his hand placed gently on her lower back, no words being exchanged as he guides her back to his private office. Her nerves are on fire. She could see in his eyes how satisfied he was seeing her representing him and his family. She just hopes it sent the message she wanted it to.

She doesn’t want to just belong to the Bloodline. She wants to belong to him. Because for once in her life, she isn’t afraid to let someone help her. To give someone else a say in her life. As they walk, Y/N notices Colby staring at her from his spot against the wall with a knowing smirk on his face. She rolls her eyes at him, mouthing for him to “shut up” as they finally round the corner and walk into his office.

There’s a comfortable tension between the two of them as the door smoothly shuts. Y/N fiddles with the fabric of her new jacket, still trying to decipher what’s going on in Roman’s head. His expression hadn’t changed since they left the ring. He stays silent, walking past her to set his championship down on his chair. He’s deliberate, taking his time, making her squirm before he finally leans back on his desk to face her.

His arms are outstretched behind him as he leans comfortably on the wood. He can see the gears turning in her head and part of him wants to make her wait before saying anything. It would serve as a form of punishment for all the back talk she’s been giving him since he took her under his wing.

But seeing her there, rocking his colors better than he ever could, glancing around the room all nervous. It made his heart clench. He couldn’t let her sit there and think he was mad. “Well, you were right about one thing,” his voice comes out low and gruff, making Y/N’s eyes widen slightly. She wasn’t expecting him to be the one to break the silence, let alone say something like that.

“What?” Y/N asks. She almost cringes at how small her voice sounds in comparison to his. She normally matches his energy, his dominance, but right now her anxiety is too high. She doesn’t know if what she did was the right move.

Suddenly he’s standing from his spot, slowly walking over to her. Y/N can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as he cups her chin the same way he did the other night, but this time it’s much more gentle, soft even. Her heart flutters at the way he’s looking down at her. Normally his eyes are filled with some sort of irritation whenever he looks at her, but now they’re just filled with what she can only call adoration, longing maybe. “Seeing you in these colors does do something to me,” he admits quietly, the corner of his lip quirking up into an almost smile.

Y/N feels a small weight lift off her chest. He likes it. She finds herself leaning into his touch, allowing her head to rest on his hand. “Does it now?” She says, her teasing edge returning to her voice.

She raises her hand up to his arms, her fingers lightly facing the tribal tattoo that covers it. Joe sucks in a breath, fighting off the chills that threaten to explode over his skin. He loves how her touch feels. It’s almost like sliding into a freshly warmed hoodie on a cold day. “You look beautiful.”

Every brick Y/N had put in place to keep herself guarded crumbles. Any ounce of professionalism she had left disappeared at that moment. The way he said that was different than anything he had ever said to her before. He said it like it was the only truth he had ever known. Nobody has ever looked at her the way Joe is right now. There’s that same small voice that’s haunted her, telling her to run away, that he doesn’t mean it. But when she sees the unwavering expression on his face, it silences any doubts she could have. She tilts her head, “You really think so?”

“I’ve always thought so,” he confirms. “Just fought really hard to not admit it… but I don’t think I want to fight it anymore.”

Y/N chuckles softly, “I actually kinda like it,” she says, messing with the jacket once more. “I don’t know why it took me so long to just put it on. It’s pretty cute.”

Roman shakes his head, his smile growing, “Cause you’re a stubborn ass who does the exact opposite of what she’s told.”

Y/N slaps his chest with a playful glare, “Well, maybe if you weren’t so bossy I wouldn’t feel the need to defy you all the time.”

“Nah, you just did it ‘cause you like pissin’ me off,” he says, his hands finding their way to her hips. He squeezes the soft flesh there, finally feeling like the world isn’t going to crash down around him by admitting how he feels.

“You liked it too,” she counters with a grin. “But I came around eventually didn’t I?” She raises her eyebrows.

Roman studies her for a moment, his dark eyes flickering over her face as if trying to commit every little detail to memory. The teasing, the playfulness—it’s always been their dynamic. But tonight, there’s something different. Something heavier in the air between them. He feels it in the way she’s looking up at him, waiting, holding her breath like she’s expecting him to finally say what’s been left unspoken for so long.His hands tighten slightly on her hips, grounding himself in the reality that she’s here, in his colors, letting him hold her like this. Letting him see the parts of her she doesn’t just give to anyone.

“You did come around,” he repeats, his voice softer now. “Took your sweet ass time, though.”

Y/N tilts her head, lips twitching. “Yeah, well, I had to be sure it was worth it.”

Roman smirks, cocking a brow. “And?”

Her fingers trace lazy patterns over his chest, her touch barely there, but enough to make his skin burn. “I think it is.”

A satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. “Damn right, it is.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. She shifts a little closer, her hands sliding up his biceps, fingers pressing against the firm muscle beneath them. “You know, I think it’s funny” she muses, “even the Wise Man picked up on it.”

Roman quirks a brow. “Picked up on what?”

She gives him a knowing look. “How different you are with me. How I mean more to you than just numbers.”

His expression doesn’t change, but she feels his fingers twitch slightly against her hips. He knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“Oh,” he drawls, smirking. “So you were spying on me?”

Y/N giggles, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe...”

Before she can say anything else, he moves. Swift and effortless, like it takes no effort at all to lift her up. A surprised squeal leaves her lips as he hoists her into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Joe!” she exclaims, laughing breathlessly as her arms loop around his neck.

He just chuckles, the sound deep and rich in her ear. “You know, you got a real bad habit of eavesdropping.”

Y/N grins. “It’s not eavesdropping if you’re talking about me.”

Roman shakes his head, his smirk never faltering. His hands slide along her thighs, securing her against him as he presses her back against the nearest wall. His gaze drops to her lips, his grip tightening just a little.

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

Y/N hums in amusement, her fingers threading into his hair. “I do.”

Then, finally, after what feels like forever, he kisses her. It’s not hesitant or uncertain. It’s not careful or slow. It’s deep, firm, and claiming—like he’s been holding back for too damn long and he’s finally allowing himself to take what he’s wanted. Y/N melts into him instantly, her body molding against his as her hands tug at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

He groans into her mouth, one hand sliding up her back, pressing her tighter against him as he deepens the kiss. She tastes like victory, like home, like every damn thing he’s been too stubborn to admit he needed.

When they finally break apart, Y/N’s eyes are bright with mischief, her lips swollen from his kiss. “Took you long enough,” she teases, mocking his words from the ring.

Roman lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head before his hand drops to her ass, delivering a playful smack.

Y/N gasps, eyes widening slightly before a delighted giggle escapes her.

“Gonna have to teach you some manners,” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise.

Y/N bites her lip, eyes gleaming with challenge. “Oh yeah? Think you’re up for that?”

Roman grins. “Oh, I know I am.”

And as he kisses her again, she knows she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[olicohens]

oh no you guys. i’m going to spew things i’ve realized while rewatching umbrella academy. I’m realizing were all being too sucked into fanon things after being stuck without canon content for so long. We have convinced ourselves Five acts like a mean mean dude to everyone but rewatching, i’ve realized he’s only stressed and is saying things out of panicked anger, especially in s1 with the apocalypse dooming over them. he acts soft to his siblings multiple times, he’s really not as mean as we write him in fanfiction. he is a little crap though, that’s for sure, and i love him for that <3

also realizing that the siblings don’t hate five. they just literally don’t know him at all. he came back a completely different person after 17 years for the siblings, they don’t know five, he’s a stranger so of course they’re gonna be cold to him. it’s like, “i don’t know you well, but you’re always going to be my brother in the end”.

ALSO. for those who ship some of the siblings, uhm… i’ve seen a lot of you guys try to prove that they don’t see eachother as siblings and more like academy students, but they very much say in just about every episode that they see eachother as siblings. they don’t actually SAY that word by word but they say things like “she’s our sister”, or “our dad”. if they say OUR dad… bro. i’m not even going to continue, you can put it together yourself. But, i do realize why people ship the siblings. I am not defending incest shippers but with umbrella academy i can see why people have resorted to it. only 3 of the characters in the main sibling cast has romantic partners. people like shipping people, people love writing romantic relationships, but with only diego/lila, dave/klaus, and sissy/viktor, (i’m not going to count five/dolores for now) people are desperate with the need to ship the rest of the siblings with someone, and since there are only a few actual canon characters in the show that interact with our main 7, people start shipping them together… yikes. anywho, that’s all for that peice. i blame the show writers as well for shipping luther/allison, they did not have to do that, but i’m hoping it was only to convey the severity of what childhood trauma does to people.

ALSO THIS HERE SHOOK ME. I actually think Reginald cares for the siblings. i hate to say it, but it’s true. caring for them does not mean being good, though. he was a horrible father, and person, but he genuinely did care for the siblings, in a like, “being the best is the best thing for you, i will make you better, for your sake, even if you don’t know it now, you will see that i am right” kind of way.

also why has NOBODY MENTIONED THIS. in season 2 when diego first reunites with five in the asylum, while he’s walking into the visitors room, he’s staring at five with this heartfelt, soft look, and then says “five…” in the most soft spoken voice ever 😭 your honor i love them

ALSO UGHHH THIS. IM GOING TO FREAK OUT ABOUT CAMERAWORK AND METAPHORS HERE SO BARE WITH ME. we as a fandom complain about the lack of flashbacks five has due to his ptsd. we’ve seen his first flashback since getting back to his family in s1 during the van scene when he gets triggered by those kids playing and starts thinking about his own childhood, i’m guessing. i ate that scene up, and was sad to see that be one of the only deeply vulnerable scenes he has in the season, and during my first watch i thought they’d never bring it back up. but they do!! i may be stupid for not realizing but whatever. in season 2, when five is trying to explain at elliot’s with all his siblings around that another apocalypse is coming, everyone starts talking about each other. as someone who studies film and camerawork, i love this scene. we see the camera focus on five as it slowly zooms in. it doesn’t switch scenes at all as the siblings voices overlap and echo over eachother. this whole scene conveys him getting overwhelmed and he starts to zone out, starting to think of the nuclear war he saw his siblings in. the scenes of the war start quickly switching through, showing many different scenes of it before it switches back to five, who says “guys, you all die. i want to forget it but i can’t” which just UGH its so well done there. if you think about it, he was starting to slip into another flashback. he was triggered by talking about their deaths in the war but was handling it well until the siblings started fighting, where we see the overlapping voices happen. it portrays him losing control and being unable to pull it back together with too much going on for him to focus on grounding himself. we DO however, see that five was able to pull himself out before he fell too deep into the flashback. i love how they show this through them still having the scene showing the war, but then fives voice starts talking over the scene which is still focusing on the war as if he was pushing it back and forcing himself to come back to the present.

thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far, i will continue to freak out another time <3

[some-pers0n]

Demoman is one of the characters in the fandom I feel most people straight up ignore or don't know how to write. Blunt, sure, but I do stand by it. Demoman is such a fascinating, intriguing character with the most fleshed-out backstories, yet is oftentimes relegated to being Soldier 2.0, only now with poorly written phonetics.

In other words, hey! I'm a fanfic writer who has a ton of opinions as well as a neurotic need to analyze every character they come into contact with. Pleased to see you're reading this. I've already done a little doohickey essay like this with Medic a while back. The purpose of these long rambles is half of me combing through every instance of the character and pulling them apart to see how their character works...and also me not-so-subtly venting and complaining about mischaracterization. Shocking how a fandom where the main characters are all very clear-cut stereotypes with some slight subversions here and there can't seem to get them.

This essay will go through Demo's beginning and all the way to his latest appearance in the 6th comic. I'll touch on how his character shifts and is expanded upon. I doubt he changes as much as Medic has over the years, but I think it will be interesting to see. I'll just go over bits of characterization, try to rationalize it, and then try my best to sum up all of the traits by the end and try to describe his character in the most canon-compliant way.

With that preamble out of the way, let's begin. This is also 7k words btw just...be aware of that, okay?

Before we actually get into proper character stuff, I wanna lay the groundwork first by exploring the types of characterization I see from Demo. Pick them apart. See what they're really like.

So, of course, there's the popular Redditor opinion of Demo that's mainly shaped by the way people play him in the game. There, people will describe Demo as being generally a bumbling drunkard. It's not too uncommon to see people say that he's an angry drunk. A man who is more concerned with alcohol and drinking himself into a stupor than anything else. I've also seen people say that Demo straight up can't read, which...euhhhhggg. He feels more like an alternative version of Soldier at times, which, again, isn't accurate to his character.

I don't care at all for this characterization. I do think a good chunk is rooted in racism and it's generally very uncomfortable for me to look at for too long. This characterization is pretty shallow and empty, which makes for a boring and offensive caricature. Reddit moment.

The second one is more interesting and the version you'll see more on Tumblr. It's this...odd version of him. I can't exactly put my tongue on what is off about it. It seems more accurate to his character. He's a foil for Soldier a lot of the time (Boots n' Bombs is his most popular ship let's be real) and generally isn't exactly seen on his own. Sure yeah there's the oddball art of him and him only, but let's be real most of his tag is mainly just him being in the background or saying a jokey-joke.

I actually fell back into Ao3 for a bit to skim over some fics to see what kind of characterization there was of Demo there to refresh my memory, and some of the common throughlines was shockingly that he doesn't drink a lot. "He rarely drinks!" I remember reading once. That's not right, no. He's an alcoholic. Like that's a core part of his character. Another fic had him being called "Cyclops" as a pet name. Ew. Anywho, other than that it's Demo being pretty into cryptids, having the Eyelander as a buddy guy, etc and etc. It's fun, but also it's missing...something.

Then, it hit me: Demo rarely is seen as an individual. He reminds me of Heavy in that regard, where most of his appearances have him be the straight-man to another character. Most of the time he's secondary and just a folly for the other characters. It's disappointing in that regard. Like you see a lot more stuff for characters like Scout, Medic, etc and etc with their own unique characterization stuff and getting their own attention.

So...then what is Demoman's character, exactly? Well, that's what we're here to see. It'll be pretty interesting, no?

----

So, funny thing is that Demo didn't change nearly as much as Medic has over the years. Sure yeah, the concept art of Demo was more of the generic stereotypical Scotsman. White, ginger, sideburns, that whole thing. Cartoony and fun design, but eventually they went with the Demo we all know and love today.

Looking at the concept art, it all seems pretty standard for the tone that Invasion was going for at the time. Nothing really to note there other than Demo's face being a stock angry grr grr expression. It is interesting to see how the idea of him wearing an eye was a constant even from the beginning though.

This then brings us to the voicelines. Ahh, good ol' characterization. Demo here is characterized as being jovial and having fun. He's throwing out insults left and right, damning them to hell and laughing at them as they die. Usual typical mercenary stuff. This is just personal headcanon material, but I always rationalize the way the mercs act on the battlefield as being a result from adrenaline and generally being drunk on blood. They aren't as mean when off the clock, but it's worth noting that these are how these characters act when a gun's in their hands and they're exploding people left and right.

TF2 really likes basing the characters off of the class they play as and how they act. Scout is fast moving and his gameplay is oftentimes getting right in someone's face and bolting, which is reflective in his hotshot personality. It's only reasonable that Demo is an explosive, fun, and generally cocky guy when out and battling. He's lobbing grenades and sticky bombs left and right. He isn't afraid to yell to the Medic he just blew up that he's been shagging his wife and calling the Scout he just chopped the head off "twinkle-toes". He teases and such when it comes to the other team.

However, the voicelines also very curiously give us a really fascinating look into his character. He's an alcoholic. He loves his scrumpy, which is not whiskey, shockingly. I thought it was whiskey for the longest time, but no! It's a cider! His stock melee is the bottle he uses to drink, now turning it into a quick weapon. His model in the main menu is him holding up the bottle itself. His default melee taunt is him taking a swig from the scrumpy bottle. It's a core part of his identity, let's be real. It's a part of the whole Scottish stereotype he has going on.

The game of course follows this. There's a lot of lines where he's slurring and babbling in a cartoony drunken way. A good portion of it is just him making vague threats...but a lot of it is also sad. He calls himself a one-eyed bloody monster. He weeps and cries. When jeering, he says he's hit rock bottom here. Interesting new development.

Apologizes for pausing to ramble, but I don't get why people try and sand down the edges to Demoman's character by making him out as though he isn't an addict. He is. That's something that is made abundantly clear. The iconography of alcohol follows him like his own damn shadow. I dunno. It bothers me.

I digress. There's some other bonus stuff I think is quite interesting. Most of his battle charges involve the other team. "Let's gettem lads!" and all. I think it's neat how he views his teammates as just that. Teammates. Those he fights alongside with. Another thing of note is how he occasionally has lines that are...odd in a way. Poetic and dramatic. Something that subverts the typical characterization. When he loses at rock paper scissors, there's a chance he'll say "Oh, 'tis a dark day", which. well then okay buddy.

So to recap: for characterization in-game, Demo is an alcoholic Scotsman who is generally pretty witty and functioning despite the incredible amounts of booze he drinks. He is energetic, bombastic, and generally hearty and having fun. He's not taking things terribly seriously and is generally just going about and blowing stuff up. However, there is a very noticeable streak of sadness to his character. When drinking, he reveals undertones of self-deprecation and hatred. Why? How?

...well, you just need to take a gander at his character card.

Erm excuse me what the fuck.

I honestly do not understand the logic behind this backstory. Like in a practical sense. Like, yeah!! obviously this backstory is sad and such! I really actually like this backstory and honestly I love writing him in the context that this happened to him. It's just that...I can't wrap my head around the idea of this being Demo's backstory given that everyone else has pretty silly little blurbs here. I think the darkest it gets is Soldier going to Germany years after WWII ended to kill people.

This??? Sure yeah TF2 gets a lot sillier and more cartoony comedic as time goes on, but even with the current tone where is the funny? I ain't complaining, I love me my angst, but this is so jarring to see. I suppose that explains why they retcon it later, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hey, at least it gives us an explanation to why Demo is sad. We can pretty easily gleam a reason for his current behaviour in the game from this: his messed up childhood. To begin, Tavish Finnegan DeGroot was abandoned by his parents and left to live in an orphanage. Eventually, he was adopted and brought up by some foster parents, who he then murdered in an attempt to blow up the Loch Ness monster. This was when he was six years old. Actual child. 

He then went back into the orphanage, where he would tinker with bombs. Why? Insert whatever headcanon here, but for me I think it's a feeling of fascination, yet also heavy guilt. Perhaps revenge. Either way, he loses his eye from these experiments. Eventually however, he's brought back into the family when word spreads of his excellence when it comes to manufacturing bombs. The use of the word "lovingly" feels exceptionally sarcastic, but that could be in part to how his parents are later characterized. Either way, this is a result of the DeGroot tradition, which, and I quote, is wholly unnecessary and cruel. It even cites it as him being reintroduced into his family as the "end of his unhappy childhood".

...so yeah. Pretty safe to say the reason for his alcoholism is to cope with that. He feels the guilt over that and will breakdown into sobs over it even. Yikeesss... It can also mean that he feels as though he's held up to incredibly high expectations, having the entire DeGroot family lineage to live up to. Again, later on he's being nagged at for not being as hard-working as his father, who, in good ol' TF2 fashion, blew up the Queen for a nickel. It does certainly feel that way, no?

So this introduces a new wrinkle to Demoman's current characterization: he's an alcoholic who is happy and has an upbeat and fun personality (at least on the battlefield), but underneath it he's hurting and feels ashamed of who he is. He drinks to cope and manage it, yet it only seems to exasperate problems at times.

Can I safely say that Demo is the merc with the most fascinating and intriguing backstory and personality thus far? Sure yeah I love Engie a lot as well, but Demo's character actually feels like it is a result of the backstory written for him. Like all of the other mercs sure you can go on and on about stuff with them, like Scout and Spy and their whole deal, Sniper and his parents, everything with Heavy, etc. Demo?? Right off the bat there's something to chew on in terms of actual character writing.

What an interesting character! I sure hope later installations of the story will follow through on this and give him ample screentime!

Anywho, time for the Meet the Demo video. Again, a departure from the Meet the Medic video and how I rambled on and on about that one, but it was mainly due to MtM being something to mark a drastic shift in Medic's character from serious and angry to more silly and mad scientist-esque. Meet the Demo, due to it being one of the Meet the Team videos made so early on, doesn't really get the benefit of a short with a story, but I digress.

This one is stylized more like an interview, which, in canon, means he's telling this all to The Director and all. It opens with the title screen before the horns section seep in, cutting to a clip of Demo running while explosions go off behind him. A freeze frame cut before a voice-over of Demo comes on with the iconic line "What makes me a good Demoman? If I were a bad Demoman, I wouldn't be here discussing it with you, now would I!?"

Okay so just more confirmation and all of Demo's personality in-game. According to his bio, he has a short temper and all, which could explain him getting louder when asked that question. I don't think it's a joke or him exaggerating, since he seems genuinely pretty upset by the suggestion. He would have to be good at his job in order to be telling you this, yeah? Why even bother asking? It's an interesting bit of characterization that somewhat expands on that short temper.

More generic footage of him running about while explosions go off before coming back to the interview of him explaining a bomb in its simplest form. "One crossed wire, a wayward pinch of potassium chlorate, one errant twitch... and kablewie!!" Seems like filler dialogue, but I always like taking note of the fact he uses the chemical compound term as opposed to something more colloquial. It's just headcanons, but I really enjoy thinking that Demo is pretty damn smart and really gifted when it comes to making bombs and general chemistry. It's a clear passion and love of his and I like touching on it when I can.

The next couple seconds are shots between him taking a good swig of his scrumpy and then blowing up a level three sentry. It's just showing off his capabilities as a class. Nothing special (other than being cool and showing he's competent at his job). The real interesting part is his breakdown where he's on the verge of tears, exasperatingly telling the camera that he's...off. He knows it. There's not too many black Scotsmen, especially ones with a busted eye. "They've got more fucking sea monsters in the great Loch Ness than they got the likes of me" he says.

But, he perks up! He talks over a clip of him baiting a group of BLU mercs into a sticky trap. The voiceover is also really fascinating here. The way Demo talks reminds me something out of an Aesop fable. It's a very curious and fascinating way of talking. I wish this bit of characterization stuck around since it's pretty fun. "Come and get me I say! I'll be waiting on ya with a whiff of the ol' brimstone. I'm a grim bloody fable...with an unhappy bloody end!" is really cool.

The video ends with him taunting the mangled corpses followed by a rendition of the main theme with bagpipes. I should probably also mention Drunken Pipe Bomb, his theme song. It's an upbeat and fun piece with a mixture of the typical TF2 sounds (funky jazzy drums and bass guitar) as well as a Celtic flair, what with bagpipes, whistles, etc and etc. There's also a kickass surf rock section. It's quite the battle theme and definitely reflects a lot of Demo's character as being an energetic, explosive type of character who is proud of his Scottish roots.

So that's pretty much it for SFM bits for now. How about we take a step back and look at the first-ever actual TF2 comic: WAR!, where Demo really gets a big break for his characterization. We don't care about the Saxton Hale or Jarate ones. WAR! my beloved...

But first, the actual WAR! update. It was the sixth major content update released back in 2009. Remember when this game got actual content updates? Me neither. The update was based around the rivalry between the RED Demo and the BLU Soldier to excuse why they were adding new items for the both of them, with Soldier in the end winning the little contest and getting the Gunboats.

For canon lore, the update serves to introduce the idea that the RED Demo and BLU Soldier had a comradery at first. Friends! Interesting piece of characterization to have Demo explicitly go against RED and become friends with Soldier. The two of them do bounce off of each other quite well when they're paired up, I will say. They're both heavy-hitters in terms of gameplay and their personalities are quite loud at times.

For added voicelines, there's a bunch of the Administrator denouncing their friendship as well as domination lines for both Solly and Demo whenever they kill each other. Demo pretends he hates Soldier, but asks if he's okay, tells him that he loves him, and generally is like "but we're still friends though, aye? :]" He does care a lot about their friendship, which is pretty sweet and cute. Sure hope that lasts.

In the WAR! comic, we see Demo in a mansion. He's loaded! It's also confirmation that the mercs are given quite a lot of money, but apparently not enough for Demo's mother. She's nagging him about not working and saying that he should be ashamed for being so lazy, to which he rebuttals, saying he has three jobs and has made millions annually. Apparently not enough for his mother, since Demo's father worked twenty-six jobs.

She also brings up an interesting piece of information. "No demoman worth his sulfur ever had an eye in his head past thirty!" which implies that missing an eye is a family tradition to lose your eyes when working this job. Would this also imply that Demo is not thirty by this point, since he still has the one eye? Eh, whatever. 

Demo taking care of his mom in this old, nagging state is pretty neat characterization, as well as him holding down two other jobs besides mercenary work for RED. He's very capable and talented! He's also extremely caring and sweet. Even when his mum is complaining and griping about him not living up to his father, he gets her tea and takes care of her. He does respond with a lot of "I know mum" when it comes to that. He's heard it all before. She keeps saying the same stuff. I like thinking he knows fully well he can't live up to the extreme work ethic his father had or truly impress his parents and is pretty bummed out about it, but that's just headcanons.

Anywho, Pauling's there. She's there because the Administrator wants to break up the friendship between Demo and the BLU Soldier and instead have them be pitted against each other. While Soldier needs to be tricked and insulted by Demo and told that he's a civilian (something that he hates apparently), Demo is more coerced and convinced.

He's still loyal to their friendship, but, aye, there's something different about that sword there. Here's an interesting bit of characterization: Demo being a sword guy. There's a lot of medieval stuff relating to Demo, what with DeGroot's Keep, the Eyelander, his general way of speaking at times, etc and etc. It's fun and I think he takes great interest in medieval-period stuff, but, again, headcanons.

Demo feels conflicted. How could she make him choose between his best friend and this cool ass sword?? He doesn't give an answer, but Miss Pauling further pushes him to choose violence when leaving even more stuff for him as well as telling him that Soldier said that he'll join the fight. It's then assumed that Demo agrees by that point.

It's interesting to compare and contrast Demo and Soldier. Soldier, despite hearing all of these mean things, still wants to be friends with Demo. It's until "Demo" calls him a civilian, something personal and sensitive to him, is when he decides to betray him. Demo meanwhile is more swayed by things that he loves, but the final push is that betrayal. He only acts when he's finally told that their friendship has been severed. Curious how their loyalty is strong in those ways.

...I should probably sometime mention the actual retconning of his backstory however. Hoouhhh boy let's go. So, for the 2011 Halloween update, there was a comic alongside it. This comic had some cute gags, like Heavy giving a little boy he scared seven grand. However, the main attraction is the rewritten backstory for Demo.

I mentioned earlier, but I honestly can't blame them for maybe trying another crack at a Demo backstory that isn't as bleak and miserable. I do really like the original one because I'm a sucker for angst, but this backstory does work a lot better tonally when you're just trying to write some goofy stuff, especially if it involves Merasmus at some point.

The story retcons the whole thing and seemingly makes it so that Demo has always been with his parents and the reason he lost his eye was not because of some brutal accident but rather a currrseeee ooohhhh spookyyy. He's hired by Merasmus to sweep up the place a bit, with him being exceptionally clear to young Tav to not touch any of the accursed tomes. He does, of course. Nothing too much in terms of characterization. It's more just saying "Hey Demo's eye is cursed and that's why he lost it but! hey! it comes back once every Halloween!!"

Again, I can't really knock this version of events. They're simple, but goofy and fun. It's all up to whatever you're trying to accomplish with Demo methinks. If you want silly and whimsical stories, you can have that backstory. If you want gut-wrenching angst, probably should take the initial one.

Aanndd that's virtually it for Demo being important. Demo doesn't get too much plot relevance later on. He's just kinda done with. He shows up in Expiration Date for a quick gag where he returns with a bunch of beer, shouting and cheering while being unaware of how they all just learned they're going to die in three days. He then shows up again during the bucket scene and doesn't do much other than mouthing somethin' (I can't tell you want tbh). A new thing is that he plays piano! That's fun! He then kinda watches Scout try and ask out Pauling and he yells for him to describe what she looks like, which is just what Demo currently sees her as (drunk, blurry, etc). He then fights in the big battle yada yada and shows up at the end with the beer again.

The MVM trailer I suppose is a thing to be noted. Here, he's a BLU Soldier and is playing cards with the Soldier of the same team. Seems like regardless of teams, there's some sort of bond between the two of them. All that happens is that Demo is down to bust up robots with the rest of the RED mercs. Pretty much it.

It is quite unfortunate to see Demo relegated to a role so passive in the story and comics. I've mentioned it before, but I do have an ever so slight grudge against Soldier for taking up the majority of the screentime when it comes to the comics. Yeah, he's really fun to write about, I can't blame the writers for doing so, but also like...c'mon... In the end, we're left with a good chunk of the mercs being underdeveloped in exchange for a ton of Soldier trivia. Props if you like Solly though; your fave got the best treatment.

Ah, but still! Demo has some moments in the comics! Let's go through them! 

Uh. Upon checking most of the comics before the mainline ones, it appears he does not say even a single word. Or even show up in a good portion. Well that's disappointing. I thought he at least said like...one thing. The most he does in terms of characterization is put on a crown in A Fate Worse Than Chess, and even then that's just a silly cosmetic. Damn.

It's fine though! Because now we have the mainline comics! Hot damn finally some actual casual Demoman TF2 writing! Let's get a look and see what his normal usual personality is like! I wonder what fun shenanigans he's been up to.

The first time we see Demo he's babbling about his job being replaced by robots and looking utterly dishevelled and depressed.

Okay. That's...yeah pretty in line for his character thus far. An alcoholic who is struggling with some stuff and oftentimes will have a very vocal breakdown in front of others.

The way that he's characterized here is rather fascinating though, I'll say. He's depressed. From what we can glean, this is what his life has been like since the layoffs. He's gained weight (what with Soldier's very blunt "Hello fat Demoman!"), hasn't shaved, his clothes are dirty, and beer bottles are scattered in the living room. Even the Eyelander is like "dude you need to let it go" when Demo mumbles about robots replacing jobs. He's presumably lost his two other jobs and has just been laying on this couch, drinking booze and watching TV and nothing more, despite his mum's nagging.

This is a side of Demo we don't really see. Sure, yeah, we see the hot and tempered side (ex: Meet the Demoman and the general game) as well as the sad and weepy side, but it's never to this degree. Like full on depressive episode. Yikes. Sure yeah he gets dragged back into the plot and instantly gets back to himself (albeit more orange than actually black)(I keep forgetting how whitewashed Demo was in these first few comics), but it's played for laughs and gags.

What an interesting piece of characterization, no? I've seen a fair amount of major depressive disorder, BPD, PTSD, and or bipolar headcanons slapped onto Demo and tbh I can't blame them. I'd be really interested to see some fic explore that in greater detail. I'm too busy writing Engiemedic yaoi to do anything for now though. Womp womp.

The ending bit of the comic has Demo and Pauling mainly chat with each other. Oh yeah!! Demo and Pauling! They've got a couple pretty neat lines. For the usual contract it's just jokes about his alcoholism, his eye, and a couple about his mom and just general gags. In the Tough Break update, she's out drinking with Demo and nearly spills the beans about her job. Fun. I really like the Miss Pauling characterization where she regularly hangs out with the mercs. It's cute.

In the comics, she talks to Demo more like an actual equal than, say, Pyro or Soldier. She talks to them like they're children roughhousing in the backseat. Demo sits up front and the two go back and forth. Demo is the more mature and reasonable one here. Another thing that's a common bit of characterization in the comics is that Demo isn't...drunk. He's not slurring nor acting in a way that makes it immediately clear he's inebriated. He's pretty lucid. This can be from the fact that he's a very high-functioning alcoholic, but it also makes him out to be actually pretty all-there for most of the time. I've seen far too many fics where Demo is in a perpetual state of shitface drunk so that was a nice refresher.

Demo reappears in the second comic, where we get some pretty neat characterization. He's out on the town in disguise. I keep forgetting about that "What do you see?" "Not a damn thing. Let's switch places" gag that's so funny. Whatever. He is the voice of reason when it comes to Soldier. The straight-man character. He's not really...drunk here. He's not slurring his words nor is he exactly doing anything. He steps in front when Soldier starts yelling at an elderly woman, instead approaching her with a calm and kind demeanour. He holds Soldier back when he goes to strangle Scout for. I guess just being there.

So there's Demo when he's just doing stuff normally, I suppose. He's generally pretty level-headed, albeit because he's up there with Soldier. He's the Normal One when posed next to a guy like Solly. A little disappointing, but there's probably more in comic 4.

Ah the Swordvan comic. Demo and Pauling head over to Sniper's house to retrieve him. An odd bit of characterization is that Demo just takes one look at Snipes' house and goes "Welp, nobody's here. Let's get out". He doesn't seem terribly thrilled to be here, further backed up by him saying that there's just gonna be fingernails and jars of piss and he straight up says "good riddance" like what is his issue with the bushman??

Now that's kinda interesting. Demo sees Snipes as being kinda just gross and a raving lunatic. He could easily be in-place for the audience and just saying what we're thinking, but I think it's interesting to see that Demo, the guy often portrayed as being the weirdo party guy, being very straight-forward. He think Sniper is some sadistic madman and just wants out. Unfortunately, he's given a neckfull of Sniper's homemade family moonshine, so he can't get out quite yet.

A very common thing in these comics it seems is Demo being the voice of reason, which is pretty interesting. The straight man to everyone. When he wakes up to Pauling spitting on him to wake him up, he goes "eughhh gross, but, hey, it worked!!" before then is knocked out. He then stays quiet for the rest of the scene, unless of course you're counting the deleted pages. There's no dialogue, but Demo breaks free from the ropes binding him, yells at Sniper, then pushes past before then inserting three syringes-worth of the moonshine into himself and passing out. Alcoholism joke as per usual. Shockingly the first one we've gotten so far.

In the submarine ride down, Demo's passed out with his scrumpy in hand. Again just a gag about him drinking a lot. He then kinda stays in the background for the rest of the comic, only appearing really once to hold a vat of liquor, before then coming to in the final shot where he holds Sniper's dead body. Heyyyy Demo I thought you thought Sniper was a weirdo freak.

Nothing too much to say from this comic then. It's just establishing more and more that Demo plays a very...straight-man character role when it comes to the comics at least. He's reasonable, level-headed, and often just says whatever comes to mind. He's kind and will instantly rush to someone's aid when they're hurt as well as just generally being pretty good-hearted. Nice!

Comic 5 mainly just features a gag with Demo's liver being so overworked that he starts turning his other organs into alcohol distilleries. The whimsy. The line that I find most fascinating from this comic is from Spy.

Like oh okay so he straight up doesn't eat anything other than alcohol and aspirin. Water literally poisons him. Probably just a throwaway gag, but geez. It does say that he is kinda in pain all the time, at least to the point where aspirin is one of the few things his body can handle. Someone out there can probably work with that and make it angsty. Other than that, not much else for Demo.

Comic 6! The final one! Home stretch here folks before I can wrap this up and give a thesis on whatever the heck Demo's character is. Demo, again, is mainly just here for gags. It's the one thing I do really wish that the comics did more: explore Demo's backstory. Like you don't even need to keep the original one, but it's still fascinating to bring up the fact he has a family lineage at all. Instead, he's mainly just a straight-man character. But, hey, whatever. I'm just the one analyzing these silly comics and jokey joke characters for gay melodramatic yaoi fanfiction.

There's a gag about Demo's liver coming back to him after leaving. These soap opera drama scene could parallel the type of shows that he was watching when having that depressive episode, but that's maybe a bit of a stretch. He then gets included in that fun group shot, where his pose mimics that from the Meet the Demo, before then gets a one-on-one scene with Medic. 

These two are such a fun duo I wish Jaggerbombs was a more common pairing. Ah well. Medic catches Demo up on everything whilst he's stitching up wounds. The medi-gun is broken so they're doing this the old-fashioned way. Demo has a gag where he's still drinking, only that it's hydrogen peroxide instead. This then leads to a scene where Demo asks why Medic never gave him an eye. Reasonable methinks. Medic responds saying he did.

Demo gets upset. He raises his voice for the first (official) time in the comics. Again, his temperament. I think it's a reasonable thing to be upset about tbh. Like imagine being told after all this time you could've had your eye back. He then learns that, no, the procedure has been done before, but rather that it never sticks because of how his eye socket is cursed. Demo asks how he can't remember this, to which Medic goes "Hooh :] It's because I scooped out a part of your brain" because of course he did. He then forgets the entire conversation + probably Medic entirely.

Aaannnddd that's pretty much it for Demo. That's his last speaking role. Just a quick, simple gag about his eye being cursed, his alcoholism, and generally being the straight-man for others, even if he does have a couple silly gags too. Seems like a culmination of everything he is in the comics.

To conclude: Demo is a character I feel can take on two main roles depending on what kind of tone you're going for. If you want angst, you've got a character who carries the guilt of murdering his foster parents as well as the burden of being a DeGroot, turning to alcohol to cope with his sadness and general inability to deal with it all. If you want silly goofy stuff, you have Demo being a straight-man or a neat party guy if you like the bit from Expiration Date where he brings back beer and such. Of course there's nuance. I find it best to try and find a balance between these two opposing sides. It just takes time and practice to really get a hold of his personality methinks.

I do wish he was more in the comics though as his own person, y'know? He's very reliant on others in order for his character to function, whilst most others have scenes where it's just them doing something. I wish he was used more than being the guy who drags the others back to reality. Damn it sucks to see that the fics where he's mainly just the straight-man are kinda right in that regard.

But for character traits? Hm, let's see. I find it's just trying to make sense of what's given to you and seeing what best fits for the tone of story you're trying to go for. However, for me trying to write him? Well...

His alcoholism is a central character trait. He is definitely 100% an alcoholic, regardless of however people try and sand him down. I personally really like sticking to the idea that he straight up can't eat anything but booze and aspirin because I think it's funny but also sad, but that's me. I think him having a flask of scrumpy on his person at all times is a neat headcanon as well.

Another big trait with Demo is his frequently shifting mood when drunk. He can swing from loud to weeping in a couple moments. I wouldn't say he's particularly angry nor aggressive, no more than any other character at least. He's most volatile on the battlefield, but otherwise at the base I feel it wouldn't be an uncommon sight to see Demo partying until dawn or holed up in the living room and sobbing. Poor guy.

In spite of what many think, Demo is certainly not lazy. He's a workaholic is anything. He holds down three jobs and rakes in a lot of money in order to live up to his name as a DeGroot. It could be because he likes working that much or that his mother just nags him to push himself that far. That also ties into his self-deprecation, another core trait of his, but that's pretty obvious to see.

His heart is another big trait. The guy loves. He cares for his mother even when she nags at him. He sticks by Soldier's side until he feels as though he's been betrayed. He takes care of the Eyelander and treats it like a pal. He generally cares a whole heck of a lot about people and other things. He wears his heart on his sleeve and says what he means. He doesn't feel a need to really hide who he is as a person. He's loud, fun, and just naturally pretty sweet and kind. I don't think he's ever really "mean" outside of the game stuff. There's also the whole "being hired to explode people" part but ehhh that's just the silliness in him :]

Demo also being generally pretty...normalish. He's a guy who's really just going through it when you take the angst option. He oftentimes will try and hold back others from doing something stupid when sober. I feel like when he's drunk he's more willing to get in on dumb shit, but still. However, this doesn't mean he's wholly a normal person. I think you can do a lot of headcanons here where you bring out some traits that are otherwise not talked about too much.

There are a lot of liberties to be taken with Demo's character as per usual. A ton of writing a character to be, well, in-character is just getting down their voice and mannerisms. Understanding their personality and motives is just half the battle. Demo sometimes speaks like an old-timey medieval knight or poet or whatever. He's generally pretty well-spoken and whatever. For the love of god if you want to write him, you don't need to include phonetics constantly. Please. It's so much better that tu'try toh spell everay whurd like tis. Oftentimes people will just know what the character sounds like regardless. Just try and mimic his way of speaking more and you'll do wonders for actually making that character sound like, well, that character.

I've neglected to mention Demo being a black man a lot because, well, it never really pops up a lot in canon. I think the most recognition we get for Demo being black is him just saying that he's black. He's a black Scotsman and that's about it. It's curious since I've seen a number of fics where it's all period-typical racism angst and whatever, with Demo being used as a way for the author to get up and proudly say that they think that racism is bad by having Demo being called a slur and getting upset. How progressive. 

I dunno. I never really personally touch on period-typical bigotry stuff myself due to the fact that this is Team Fortress 2. Rocket jumping was invented before stairs. Besides, this is the late 60s/early 70s. The civil rights movement happened by this point. Not everyone walking the streets is gonna be some abrasive bigot. I don't know why people want to try and make it "historically accurate" to begin with since this series has never been period-accurate to begin with. I don't particularly think TF2 is a great series to go on about tackling period-typical bigotry either. Literally if you want Demo angst you've got the actual mountain load of angst with his backstory right there. Obviously of course people are allowed to write what they want and I do fully believe that sharing stories and portraying bigotry is important, but why with TF2??? Do people just really look at a POC and think their existence is inherently political and they need to make it clear they think Racism Bad, even though the tone of canon really doesn't match that?? Ah well. I'm just rambling.

Regardless, Demo is just a character where you can take a lot of different avenues with. Maybe you can explore his trauma and try and write about how he feels trying to live up to his family name. What about his issues with his now-deceased father? Maybe you can forgo that and have him be a partner in crime to Solly or whomever else, with the occasional glimpse into his more sensitive self. Really, it all just depends on the story you're trying to tell. Ultimately, writing Demo with a healthy mix of comedy and angst is probably what is best done if you just want a pretty in-character version. He can be out on some grand adventure to take down Nessie with a merc or two AND have it be a story about him coming to terms with his past. That's just a me thing though lol.

Demo, like the rest of the cast, is an easily moldable piece of clay. All of the mercs at their very core are just funny character archetypes. They can be whatever you want them to be. It's just best to work with their original characterization and personality in mind, y'know? Fanfic writing is mainly about having fun anyway.

Speaking of which, enough procrastinating for me. I need to get back to writing my yaoi...

[allicat0]

hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal.  “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no. 

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer. 

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand. 

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before. 

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance. 

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second. 

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah.  .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home. 

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night. 

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you. 

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft. 

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay. 

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust. 

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you. 

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you. 

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said. 

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else. 

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Oh look more headcanons

Who'd have guessed

Not me for sure

Okay sorry I'll shut up.

I'm highly music-driven and have been for many many years of my life.

And I'm presently unreasonably obsessed with The Fratellis after suddenly remembering they exist after like fifteen years of not hearing a single one of their songs. Don't ask me, it just happened a couple months ago and I decided not to question it.

So this is really stupidly niche of me, but these are their songs/lyrics that I associate with the Best Boys™, in a Character X Reader sense. The songs that are typically playing halfway on repeat when I'm writing any of them lately.

The song-links go to Spotify. It's not necessary to listen to them, the lyrics here are the main catalyst, but if you want to listen I'm not going to complain.

no but please I hope you like the music that I like I have no one to talk to about it and as a half-assed musician it's literally killing me and

Anywho.

Zoro

Living in the Dark

I was nothing less than torn, crying out to be reborn

Come back, baby, you could make me happy,

Maybe you could prove me wrong

You're the only one who could ever save me,

Maybe you could prove me wrong

I've been living in the dark down here too long

The song itself is far more upbeat than I'd generally associate with Zoro, but the lyrics speak to me on his behalf. The upbeat tempo is the equivalent of what you do to his heart when you're near him; it's strange and unfamiliar, but it's nice. He's iffy about being close with anyone, and he won't admit it out loud but he wants to be.

He's been alone for years, for damned near all of his life, and you're like the light at the end of that tunnel. He might try to push you away or be aloof and impersonal at first because the thought of being vulnerable frightens him a little, but he wants to be proven wrong. He wants to let you in, and he's willing to try.

Sanji

Sugartown

I get the strangest sense we were lovers past-tense

Like a dog in heat I just can't be indiscreet

And when I see you there, I whisper my prayer, so sweet

I'm getting shakey on my feet, I'm incomplete

And if you just can't do me right

Then, honey, please, do me wrong

I'll be your one man band, I'll be at your command

Just say the word and I'll be your Renaissance man

This entire damned song is the anthem of Sanji. It's like a 1950's bop, the type of song that you can't help but smile at. It's sweet and cute and pining, just like our favorite chef. He's just utterly obsessed and hoplessly devoted to you and every single thing you do. He can't keep his eyes or his mind off of you at any given time.

Just the sight of you entering the room takes his breath away, puts stars in his eyes. He would do or give absolutely anything to have you and to keep you forever, and he's going to make sure you know it.

Shanks

Babydoll

Babydoll, do you believe they'll catch you when you fall?

And when morning comes, the sun is gonna shine

Don't forget, your minor keys your half-lit cigarette

'Cause when morning comes, I know that you'll be mine

So let me in

I'm ready to beg and to sing for my sins

Not leave it to chance and sweet coincidence

I don't know. The soft yet slightly playful tone of the song in general just screams Shanks to me for no reason I can completely put in words. This particular portion of the lyrics is what I associate most with him.

He knows he wants you, and he wants to make sure you know it. Not to beat around the bush about it, but not pressure you either. Just make sure you know how much he cares about you and be as gentle and sweet as possible to prove it...and he knows it's going to work, and that you're already his whether you know it or not. But jfc also imagine that goddamned voice of his calling you babydoll please excuse me I need to go touch grass now

Mihawk

Medusa In Chains

I'm not your miracle man, I'm not your spirit guide

Before this whole thing began I had some sense of pride

Just one more night with your lips, your company is hard to eclipse

Weak-kneed, yes indeed, guardanteed, make my heart bleed

Give me a reason to breathe, don't let my sun go down

I'll make you stand and recieve, I'll be your sacred ground

Be my Medusa in chains, petrified

Only your beauty remains

The entire song. The ENTIRE SONG screams Mihawk to me. Slow-burn and seductive from start to finish. I get the same exact chills from this song that I get when he delivers that "Magnificent" line.

Lyrically relevant too. Falling for you in spite of his pride (and he has a LOT of pride to get past). You're like nothing he has ever experienced and he's utterly and hopelessly addicted to you. As much as he wants to fight it, he can't. In the same breath that he's trying to push you away and retain some grip on himself he's also pulling you back for more. He hardly even knows who he is anymore when you're near.

[roachesbf]

AHHHHHHH- YOURE BACK YIPPIE!! 🙌🙌🙌

Anywho, mind the intro, if you haven’t done anything for Ghost within the courting series yet…

Imagine Ghost as a feline of sorts, like.. a black panther or a lion. Just a silly little guy. He’d be the type of cat that’s got that judgemental look until they see their favourite person and their eyes get all big.

Type of guy that loves to wrestle for play, and provides food/gifts for his S/O. Typical dead mouse on the doorstep type of gift.

He wouldn’t be much into physical contact, but god would he melt when his chin is scratched of his ears are gently rubbed. And rather than holding hands, he’d constantly have his tail wrapped around your arm or leg. The small purrs he would emit but deny.

Just a silly little guy all together, got that rescue cat energy to him<3

Anywho, love your work and be sure to take care of yourself!!<33

- 🪶

Black Panther Ghost Courting Headcanons

Ghost does give very much sheltered cat vibes once the two of you are in a settled relationship lol. It was a bit difficult at first because he had a hard time showing affection to you in normal ways. The main indicator of him liking you was on missions, he’d present to you a kill and wait until you said something, especially if it was someone who in turn was going to hurt you. If you praise him he’ll croon but he won’t tell you what the noise means. If you question him on why he brought it he’ll just hum and turn away. After putting the puzzle pieces together it was just him trying to show off that he can protect you. 

Once he knows that the two of you are comfortable with each other, it’s practically a mess. Your bed sheets and pillow covers are ripped up from his claws because it’s his way of marking your room as his territory as well. He always apologizes but the smug look in his eyes show that he’s not actually sorry and that the next time you buy new ones, he’ll do it again. Along with that, he’ll curl his tail onto your leg during meetings, or anywhere. To him it’s the easiest way of telling others to back off without actually saying anything. If you try to catch him off guard by grabbing it he’ll smack your hand away and scold you for it later, he can’t be caught lacking in front of the soldiers, he’s got a reputation to uphold. 

Ghost is a big fan of training because he always forgets how big and heavy he truly is. Something in his brain switches and he views training as a way to just play and mess around with you. The more you fight back, the more adrenaline he feels. And if he wins he’ll be a good sport about it, of course he takes it seriously for your sake by also giving out pointers. But training always gives him a rush because there really are no hard feelings in it. If your body isn’t too sore by the end of it he’ll allow a break in the comfort of your room, letting you lay on top of his chest as the two of you try to regain your energy. His gross skull mask will be off, but you’ll have to peel the balaclava halfway up if you wanna give him chin scratches. His stubble feels weird but it’s also a part of the charm when he gets comfortable and starts rubbing his face all over you. 

It’s cute that when he truly is comfortable he’ll start purring unconsciously, his tail slightly swinging back and forth on the bed. He’ll start kneading at your back, and it’s not until you start giggling does he notice his lovesick behavior, which ultimately makes him stop. If you whine and complain for him to continue, he’ll deny anything even happened and get up to go make tea or something, anything to distract him from how red his face is from being caught. I feel like Ghost is a really petty guy so it’s best to not say anything or he will make sure he never does it in front of you again. 

[pocketmolly]

I love how present Damian is in all of the crisis/events in dc! Like this man is not just Batman's sidekick and it shows I mean of course he won't have the same plot importance as dc trinity or whatever but this guy is shockingly relevant in almost every event (at least in the new52)

1. Dark Knights Metal

The teen titans go to the challengers mountain in Gotham and Damian somehow fucks off from his team (cannon fodder tbh) and ends up inside. There, he meets Green Arrow, Harley, Killer Croc and Nightwing and they fight their way into the (almost?) center. Damian kills dark robin and only through this do the good guys gain the knowledge that enemies can be killed by Nth metal which leads to their eventual victory. (Gotham Resistance)

2. Shadow War

This event kind of centers around Ra's Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul and Slade after the Robin (2021) so it makes sense why Damian is a major character in it, basically Batman and Robin just kinda hop around trying to stop Talia and Slade from murdering each other. Anyway Damian has a humongous part in the conclusion where he manages to defeat the bad guy himself and Mary Sues his mother into not killing the guy who murdered Ra's. Also this event is kinda goofy where it ends in sunshine and rainbows (Slade is still alive and sets up Dark Crisis) (Ra's comes back as a ghost).

3. Dark Crisis

Dark Crisis gives Damian his little one shot where they portray him as both 12 years old and 34 years old. Anywho, Damian quickly says 'fuck you' to both Jon and Nightwing and goes on his own adventure where his team frees Justice Incarnate (which is the JL of the multiverse) and somehow unlock Dr Light's powers which she uses to stabilise the multiverse??? And don't let the team accomplishments fool you because Damian hacks into a cosmic tuning fork in an ape dimension to find the source of the Darkness??? (Please read Dark Crisis: The Dark Army, it is so good!!)

4. Lazarus Planet

Even the name of this event screams Damian... This event also starts off in Robin (2021) and is the biggest crossover Damian is at the center of. He starts off as a main antagonist where it's mostly a batfam event. Then, at the climax of the event, Damian is converted back to the hero's side when it becomes an international event. He's basically the main strategist and leader in fighting the god, King Fire Bull. There are a bunch of one-shots where heroes are struggling with new or a lack of powers which is why I say it's Damian's first big crossover event, additionally the entire batfam kind of revolves around him, being literally at his beck and call. The ending is also super sweet where Damian rallies the people of Gotham to revive Batman but he also kind of decided to kill Batman in the first place so that's not so sweet. I think this event, though not extremely well written, gives us a taste of what Damian would be like leading the JL (idk if it was plot convenience but everyone just agreed to following orders from a 15 year old) alongside Nightwing and Jon.

5. Night Terrors

In this Damian is revealed to have control over his dreams (which is crazy btw) and he goes to some monk to learn how to resist sleep? Anyway, while the other heroes are snoozing, Damian gets to team up with Deadman, Sandman and his father's unconscious body. It's the classic superhero story where he swoops in to rescue the two and they get the nightmare stone or something. Truthfully, I'm not too sure why they chose Damian specifically to play this role because I'm pretty sure any other hero would have been an okay substitute but I will never complain about Damian content.

This is just off the top of my head and I'm aware Beast World did happen but that event definitely needs its own post because I just absolutely adore it. Anyway, writers have been pushing for Damian to become a major character in DC and I really really hope he gets to be beside Nightwing and Jon when they inevitably (DC will never let them) take over.

[aravas-writing]

And now, the continuation no one asked for:

A funnyman's recap of Blue Archive

Prologue

It begins with the player character having a weird dream while on the train to Kivotos, which is ominous enough. Sensei awakens and steps off the train to meet with the person in charge

Her name is Rin, and she is a stand-in. The president of the General Student Council - the Big Cheese, basically - has gone missing and named Sensei, i.e. the player, as the person to summon in this case. Sensei is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, so can be either/or/neither, whatever floats your boat.

(Rin not pictured here BC she doesn't really become relevant to the overall story until way later.)

She functions as a proxy for the Prez while they're gone and brief Sensei on what's happening in the city and Great Googly Moogly, it's gone to shit in a heartbeat.

The seven most notorious criminals of the city had just been all apprehended as the Prez disappears so now they take the confusion as the chance to escape.

And one of them wants to fucking bomb the main tower.

For fun.

She is Kosaka Wakamo, Fox of Calamity (the reference to Tamamo-no-Mae jumps out immediately, no?)

Rin informs Sensei that it's up to them now and with the help of a nice tablet called

...

The..

The Shittim Chest.

Yes, I know. No, I don't think they workshopped it enough. Let's just call it the tablet.

Anyway, Rin also introduces four students, representatives of the Three Great Academies, who have come to aid Sensei and the GSC. They are, essentially, the starters.

Before it goes to battle, however, Sensei boots up the tablet using a passcode of ominous origin. It came to them in a dream (?).

And then an AI helper comes out!

Behold Arona! The AI of the tablet and adorable widdle babby who you can actually headpat. But that comes later.

And now, in cliffnotes, introducing the starters!

Hayase Yuuka

Treasurer at Millennium Academy

Can solve complex calculations in her head

Wields two Sig MPX, called "Logic & Reason"

Falls victim to a rumor about her actually weighing 100kg (someone manipulated her health check data)

Easily flustered when caught off-guard

Tries to be no-nonsense, fails at times

Develops a crush on Sensei with time

Hanekawa Hasumi

Dear god her artist is cooking the finest chili in the land

Vice president of the Justice Task Force at Trinity Academy (note the angel theme)

Uses a 1914 Enfield rifle named "Impalement"

Very conscious about her weight (GEE I WONDER WHERE ITS GOING)

Also has a sweet tooth

Constant sufferer of her own diets

Competent at her job

Effortlessly gorgeous

Hinomiya Chinatsu

Member of the Prefect Team at Gehenna Academy

Healer and good at it

Very adorable when flustered

Most transparent crush on Sensei after Yuuka

Wields a M712 Mauser pistol called "Support Pointer"

Feels constantly overworked, relishes rest

Morizuki Suzumi

Member of Vigilante Club at trinity

Literally just tagged along because she wanted to help

Gun: SIG MCX Virtus Patrol "Safety"

Stern, but kind

Bad at socialising

Has a really big stockpile of flash grenades.

Now you may see the guns and think "well damn, that is surprising" and/or "these girls are gonna die?"

Well.

Once they step out to meet the thugs that Wakamo rallied for max destruction, Yuuka gets shot in the head...and complains that hollow point bullets hurt like hell.

That's right, just about every inhabitant of Kivotos is bulletproof.

Except Sensei.

Fucked, innit?

Anywho, Sensei decides to use the tablet to give tactical support to the four girls at the front, who actually succeed in subduing Wakamo...

Except not really, she ran off into the tower to look what she can wreck with bombs.

She sees Sensei.

"Come here often?"

She excuses herself and bolts, which brings up several questions. All of which are answered in the Valentine's event.

And by me here and now: this girl fell in love at first sight and promises to be a good girl for a crumb of affection by the, apparently, only adult in Kivotos!

And that's how Sensei establishes themselves, as well as the club called Schale they helm from then on.

End prologue, welcome to Blue Archive, please leave your common sense at the door

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

Here's my thing: Why join (or continually contribute) a fandom with an author who is known to be racist -- that is racist by your own admission -- and then get mad when other people continually talk about those problems?

I'm not even saying fandoms can't reclaim and participate in fandoms with irksome authors -- I'm saying that when you're in those fandoms and you seem irritable at those critiques then there are some ideological problems there. I like ASOIAF but I live for the scathing anti-criques because they're absolutely right. I scroll through like yep, yep, yep. It never bothers me, not even a little. That's for every fandom I participate in. Because racism is never just an irksome problem, it should never get on your nerves, and I could talk about it all day. Because when you look at the world through the lens of a black woman (and other women of color ofc) you are NEVER not going to see it. I like TVD but there was so much shit one dealt with, that we had to actively ignore for the sake of being able to enjoy the show. I really wish I could ignore it all, but sorry not sorry.

I feel like a lot of people like to make their annual post about SJM's racism, and then don't want to consider two things (1) that the racism isn't actually isolated and permeates throughout all of her works and (2) there are consequences (or at least there should be) to being racist. Even if you have somehow come to terms with the racism in the story, that doesn't mean other people will or have to. The only way we even begin to solve the problem is by continually talking about it. It's just very crazy, IMO, to say that we are allowed to be upset -- but not in a way that disrupts your fandom experiences. That little irritation you feel every time a new post hits the anti-tag is racism. That little irritation you feel every time someone brings up Nehemia and the problems in Throne of Glass -- is also racism. I may be over the character conversation, but I'm not over the ones like these that have real consequences in the world of literature. It's just very frustrating to see people turn criticism of SJM's writing into a misogyny problem when the majority of the people doing the criticism are women of color.

LIKE -- are we supposed to talk about the racism once every blue moon for kudos points and then go back to pretending it doesn't exist? What are we gaining with that approach quickly?

The anti-anti sentiment is tired, and much more representative of people's unwillingness to address the problems than anything else. Like y'all are asking a group of people to....sympathize with someone who doesn't see her black readers as human enough to live on the page/?? Human enough to be represented as actual, complex human beings -- it don't sound wild to y'all? I'm pro anti for any racist author who crawls up the depths into the light of the publishing industry.

We complained about Nehemia and not only were we met with silence -- she did it AGAIN. And then stuck the remaining mixed race women with the man the story thought needed to be redeemed, with the main whose people enslaved her own -- and then the next black women we met come in the form of servents, and then the next black women as jealousy fodder, and then the next black women is brutally murdered, debased -- and I think has her head shaved, and that was FOR HELPING the main character. Then the next black woman is sidelined for the villainous, blonde-haired sister who got all of two words in the first book of CC. Lack of diversity is bad, but not inherently racist -- rather a symptom of white privilege. I wouldn't fret about it. Conscious, negative, and continuous bad representation is another thing entirely.

Anywho may the anti-community continue to thrive for this and any other racist author ❤️

[momentomori24]

odds are that other anon was a drdt fan, for some reason drdt fans have been starting NONSTOP shit with peg fans (and they've even tried to 'call out' seraph for 'utilizing his power for harassment' for saying that he didn't like the way nico was written in ch2 but he gave the dev props for including representation)

Maybe, maybe not-- not that it really matters, anywho. I think this fandom hates its own game enough that it could very well not be a drdt fan and just your average p:eg fan (or i guess ex fan), but it doesn't matter. What annoys me more is how people try to make it so difficult to enjoy the game over one "drama" after the other, throwing unrelated people under the bus to make a "point" (first Seraph, then Nifast, then Robbie for actually no reason 💀). The people the person in the doc had issues with weren't the veryyyy broad "P:EG staff"-- they had issues with the MODS specifically, yet they managed to spin the narrative of the whole staff being bad and get the dev team to catch flack over shit they had nothing to do with yet again (and looking through twitter it's working).

I have my issues with the thing, but what got the me the most about it was how obviously maliciously targeted their tangent about Nifast specifically was.

Like what the fuck is this 💀 They deadass are salty that Nifast didn't "deserve" to get ostracised for his fat fetish when Boris did when their situations are ENTIRELY DIFFERENT. Nifast didn't publish ANY of his fetish material to the public server. Instead, he made his own alt account completely separate from his main with no links connecting them and no way for minors who are p:eg fans to easily find it (heck, I couldn't even find it until some third party shithead decided to OUT the fetish alts for minors to find and went viral for it completely out of his control). There's a difference in those situations, and the fact that they purposefully went outta their way to throw someone who's already received a LOT of harassment and bullshit for something so worthless and purposefully open them up to all that again while complaining about a "hate campaign" directed at them and their friend is a tell tell. And disgusting. Especially when they complained about the way it sickens them to have their intents and actions so grossly misinterpreted only to give the grossest misinterpretation of Nifast's character and actions. Way to talk about hypocrisy.

At the end of the day, I don't care for this, so I won't humour it or speak on it further. Even if I think it's a waste of time, you're very welcome to read the whole thing yourselves and form your own opinion and not just take mine or anyone else's word for it. I have too much going on IRL and also there's too much in the fandom already that I can't care about this, not really.

(Also about the Nico thing: I personally disagree with Seraph on that take however the way people took that maliciously and ran with it is ughhhhhh)

[thequietesthing]

since everyone is giving their two cents about the new taylor swift album, i’ll also do the same (it’s more like ten cents cause it’s very long sorry)

first of all, this album (i’m talking about ttpd: the anthology with all 31 songs) can be truly appreciated once you hear it at least twice with the lyrics right in front of you. the reason for this, imo, is pretty simple; the first thought i had while listening to this the first time (and be mindful of the fact that my mind was huddled with sleep bc it was very early) is that it sounds like a diary, more than any other of her previous albums. which is why, i think, that the people that don’t particularly like it may never have kept a personal diary in their life. and i’m not talking about gratitude journals, i’m talking about “teenage petulance” written words, with anger, resentment, hope, love and sadness. which would very well explain the lack of “storyline” that i’ve seen people complain about, in the sense that she doesn’t create stories within her songs but only verbose imaginaries. when you write in your diary you use metaphors, analogies and periphrasis but since it’s something raw and yours you don’t need to craft a story about it because the diary it’s something you write for yourself, so you don’t need to make the effort of making something “pretty” as it’s not supposed to be read by anyone else. it often feels like an unending river flow of messy words because that it’s how writing your own feelings looks like. also the fact that she often reports pieces of dialogue she imagines hearing or that someone actually said it’s a very typical trait of diary entries.

second of all, the games of assigning which song to who can be fun for like the first two hours but then it gets very freaking boring. if you don’t understand that everything that she writes she writes about how she feels and about how other people make her feel you have not been paying attention. she is the main character; if the issue for you is whether that song is written for that person instead of another, you are giving more importance to secondary/recurring roles than to her. these are her words, her story. and i’m not saying it’s not fun ok, catching references to ex-boyfriends or other people, but you can’t, and you shouldn’t, make an entire album that she wrote about her personal intimate experiences about someone else.

to circle back to the lyrics, i think that this album may be one of her best works. they are smart on both a linguistic and metaphorical level. as someone who deeply enjoys english as a language i always have the time of my life listening to her albums and her choice of association of words, themes and rhymes.

a last point regarding the tunes. i am by far the last person that knows anything about music, you give me a pretty tune and i usually like it regardless of where is from (cue my very eclectic music tastes) so when everyone said that all the music sounded alike i was like uhmm. when i heard it a second time (guys the key it’s really in this!!!) i was like no they are different from one another. but also, and this may be a little far fetched so feel free to disagree but it’s what i perceived, is that in this album she may have put much more effort in the lyrics than in the music. not always obvs she is a musician after all, but i think that the turning point here, the thing that she wants us to pay attention to, are the lyrics (also why it’s called tortured poets department and not tortured musicians department :))

to sum everything up, i really really enjoyed this album when i listened to it the first time but i’m appreciating her skills and understanding her lyrics more the second time around. it’s an album that has to be let marinate, like a sauce, otherwise is gonna taste a bit acidic. anywho this is just my opinion, i just needed to tell it to someone and the irl people in my life are not willing to listen, so people of tumblr you are the unfortunate recipients of my two cents on ttpd :)

[lipglossanon]

is it just me not being regularly on tumblr or are you not active that much anymore? THIS IS NOT A HATE BTW! I luv u sm and I’ve been here for a long time and I sent you a lot of anon messages I even was apart of your emoji list but then I just like- stopped reading fan fics, I was just occasionally checking if you wrote sum new. I swear I kept my tumblr just because of u 😭 soooo I was just wondering how are you? if you’re okay and stuff- your work forever changed my way of thinking and I suddenly have more kinks than before.

Howdy anon!

I didn’t take it as hate lol. You’re just making an observation (but I get it, people misconstrue tone in text so thanks for the clarification!).

And I’m not! I had a vacation and then I’ve been chipping away at kinktober; plus I’ve been on Twitter a lot more for other fandoms since RE has kinda taken the back burner in my main interests, for now.

And that’s totally fine! I don’t remove emojis from the list unless asked so you should still be there (unless I never added you which is also a possibility cause I lose my train of thought a lot 😂).

Anywho 🤣 I’m doing alright! Don’t have too much to complain about I suppose lmao. I hope you’re doing well! AGAJDGL 🙈 well I’m always happy to introduce people to new stuff haha! 🤭

[theinsanecrayonbox]

Sabretooth War part 8 time

and again, doing it from tower so we can have panels, so that also means a cut to save dash space

bwahahaha idk but that over the top warning box just had me burst out laughing. i sure hope some karen complained that this storyline was too over the top pointlessly graphic (ok i din't really, because again i do enjoy bloody fights, but this is all just edgelordy nonsense for the sake of being unpleasant)

anywhos, onto our story in progress proper

i already mentioned the preview pages, and commented that i liked the parallels in the storytelling, and the Holly Bright/Bonnie Hale things. but the fact that Victor's admitting that he's a victim...has that ever happened before?

aw crap, Savage is dead-dead. i was hoping maybe she wasn't, like how Capt wasn't for an issue, since she wasn't decapitated. but nope, we can't have fun here.

Laura tauntsGraydona nd jumps out a window. he says screw it all.

Logan's getting patched up by Oya and monologing internally about how it;s so great to have no powers and could die at any moment...didn't we do this song and dance years ago before you died dude? also, you're not gonna be able to move very easily with that super heavy metal skeleton that your body won't compensate for properly without your healing factor. you know the adamantium poisoning is gonna get you. we've done this before; stop being so blasé about it.

Nekra thinks Logan's plans are dumb. Mr OC tries a psychic tap and freaks out because Graydon is so much worse than Victor? uh...wut. wiener boi, even in new shiny tinfoil mode, is not as large scale of a threat as you're making him seem. i'm sorry, but no. you cannot excuse taking the spotlight off of a main character because the wieners secondary (tertiary even) character is now the big bad and final threat. i'm just...uhg. Graydon is a wiener, and he has his purposes, but this isn't one of them. "extra dimensional tech will make this easy' yeah, uhhu, sure. you know what would've made this make sense; us seeing HOW we got this cool maybe. because you give the wiener a shiny gun doesn't mean we will immediately think he's cool and capable; it just makes him look like a wiener with a gun and make we should duck because he's probably doing to accidentally shoot himself with it.

and how do you know about that! you weren't part of the Pit Gang conversations. bad writing!!

so Logan takes the Pit Gang (trio really at this point) to his apocalypse bunker. and they fight bears. this is padding.

no it wasn't, stop lying Logan

cut to teh Greenhouse...

THE BOI IS BACK!!!!! where was he? what's he been doing? IDK AND IDC!! he's not dead, he's still here, he's in a panel. i'm not even paying attention to the rest of the page, what's going on...

Black Tom is making them a vegetable plane to go help Laura cause the them got her help texts. mk. and Cuckoo is getting a text from Quint-head that Vic is breaking out of the Audrey Two

and cut back to Logan and friends, and he's in adamantium armor with a Muramasa blade. yeah...lame. if this was to sell action figures maybe, but we don't do that anymore these days. so this is just uhg. also, didn't Laura have one of these getups? are we now repeating the OTHER Wolverine because we don't have enough new ideas???

whelp, this one wasn't so bad (why'd it warrant such a comedic warning idk lol). we progressed a bit, we got some flashbacks, we got a lot of dumb padding/stretching. but Arkady is confirmed still here, and in part 8, so i'll take it. (still not convinced my conspiracy theory that he was originally supposed to be dead in part 1 and it was changed last second isn't true...he has no lines in these 2 pages and could've been added in after the fact...he still isn't in the opening lineups yet Aurora and Northstar are and they haven't appeared in a couple issues)

[blueandbetaraptors]

Hey! Welcome to my page! I’m Blueandbetaraptors! But yall can just call me raptor if that’s easier!

I’m a female in my mid twenties. I write fanfics.

I like to do

Paw Patrol

Emergency! (It’s a 1980s show)

Marvel

These are the main ones but I watch a lot of movies and TV that I have more I can’t remember to list but these are the main three.

Please dont hesitate to send in request for me to write a fanfic for you.

I mainly do

Sick fics

Hurt/comfort

Hidden injury/ illness

Mental health related situation

Some big rules I have

Don’t ask me to curse, I don’t like it

No sexual talk or action (if I think it’s potentially inappropriate I refuse to write it and I will either take it a different way or I will refuse it all together)

I don’t like writing ships as I think it’s hard and also potentially weird. I have no problem with mentor/mentee relationships but nothing further

Please no disrespect but I don’t like writing LGBT themes due to my past experiences.

I’m also here to listen if you need a ear or if you wanna complain that you don’t feel good I’m ears( cause also im most likely not feeling well either)

Anywho! Enjoy! And hope to answer questions for yall!