#even for very canon compliant views

[teamatsumu]

you are part of me. (gojo satoru x reader)

summary: when gojo satoru loves, he is loud about it. and he doesn’t care if you don’t love him back.

word count: 3604

warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, very mild angst, swearing, gojo being gojo, canon compliant storyline

Gojo Satoru enters your life at 16 years old.

His presence suffocates the room, his cursed energy is something not best ignored. Quiet, yet noticeable. Like something that’s bubbling just under the surface. It’s almost as if a very dangerous animal has been reigned in, held back on a leash. That’s how his cursed energy feels to you. You, who is a mere novice. New to the world of curses and sorcery, landing in Jujutsu Tech after everything near and dear to you was ripped from you by this world.

He intimidates you.

He is loud, lean, but very tall. He demands attention when he walks into a room. He is jovial, a little aloof (you're not sure if it’s on purpose), big goofy grin and round, almost comical sunglasses. His hair is so bright, and his eyes are so blue, it’s almost blinding to look at him.

He is everything that you are not.

He is a year older, and your classmate Haibara can never stop talking about him and Geto. Nanami does not enjoy being around them, but he holds them in regard because they are his seniors. Shoko might be the only one he truly respects, and that almost makes you fear her. You make up your mind to try and stay as invisible as possible around them. You do not enjoy the spotlight.

Unfortunately, Gojo thrives in the spotlight, and he has a knack for pulling other people into it with him.

“Oh hello. Fresh meat?” He is grinning down at you, eyes barely visible behind the dark, circular lenses. “And aren’t you cute. You better toughen up sweetcheeks, or the big bad curses are gonna eat you up.”

You don’t know what exactly he means. You’re too caught up in the fact that he called you cute. It makes you heat up under the collar of your brand new jujutsu uniform. And his intense stare makes you fidget.

You do not like it.

You just frown at him and turn away, taking advantage of the fact that Nanami was leaving the room and going along with him. You don’t notice how he stares at the back of your head as you leave, but Geto sure does. The raven haired boy lets out a pained sigh before leaning back on the creaky classroom chair.

“Here we go.”

Gojo hums questioningly, glancing at his best friend once you have left the room.

“You’re going to fixate on her now. And you’re going to be an insufferable prick about it.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it. He merely settles into a chair of his own, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

……………….

Life at Jujutsu Tech isn’t as bad as you expected.

Your room is spacious enough to hold all your belongings. It has a nice view of the gardens, and is warm enough that you sleep comfortably through the nights. Your classmates are easy to get along with. Haibara loves carrying the conversation, and while Nanami isn’t as energetic, he shares a lot of your interests so you love talking to him.

The deep, sorrowful ache in your chest is slowly subsiding. Very slowly. Oftentimes, you remember your old life. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, and you shed tears in the late hours of the night. But they are gone. And you are here. You can’t do anything about it.

And then there’s Gojo Satoru.

For someone who is apparently the ‘strongest’, part of a major jujutsu clan and heir to the infamous Six Eyes, you would think he would be a busy person. But somehow, he finds a way to always be lazing around the campus, and unfortunately, he loves engaging you in conversation.

“Fresh meat!” He hasn’t stopped calling you that. He hasn’t even learned your name. Or introduced himself. Of course, you already know who he is. But it would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it?

You would soon learn that Gojo Satoru has no manners, and no amount of scolding could teach him any.

“Heard you took down a fourth grade all by yourself. Congratulations!”

You eye him with a scowl, while all he does is grin back at you.

“You’re mocking me, senpai.”

Gojo places a hand on his chest, gasping so loud it was comical, acting shocked at your accusation.

“I would never!”

You sigh deeply, a regular habit you have developed since the boy had decided to shadow you, continuing to make your way back to your room as he trails behind you. While a fourth grade may not be a big deal to someone like Gojo, it is to you, who has never interacted with, let alone fought a curse.

You open your room door, stepping in and looking back to stare at your senior as he smiles down at you. You wait for him to say something cheeky like he usually does, about how you should invite him in so you can hang out, or his usual ‘let me take you out to dinner’, which he loves tossing around whenever he sees an opening.

“I’m real proud of ya, sweetcheeks.” He says instead, and his voice is softer, having lost the sharp edge that it usually carries.

There it is again, the heat under your collar. The little knot in your throat.

You close your room door in his face.

………………

“He likes you.”

“He doesn’t. He just likes to annoy me.”

“That’s his way of spending time with you.”

“I’d rather he leave me alone, then.”

“That’s an impossible ask.”

The chocolate icing on your brownie melts in your mouth as you chew on it, giving a disdainful look to Utahime who is apparently hell bent on proving this nonexistent crush Gojo seems to have on you. You don’t believe her. Mostly because you don’t think Gojo is capable of liking you, of all people. You also doubt his ability to genuinely give a shit about anyone that isn’t his closest friends. You’re just some underclassman that he thinks is fun to pester every now and then.

(‘Every now and then’ in this context means ‘every possible second of every day’.)

Utahime takes a big gulp on her coffee, and you have to wonder why the hot liquid doesn’t burn her throat as it goes down. Your phone pings again, for the seventh time in the last half hour, and Utahime stares pointedly at the unsaved number on your screen. You swipe the phone off the table quickly and flip the switch to ‘silent mode’.

“You haven’t saved his number? Ouch. He’s not gonna like that.”

You roll your eyes and glare at the screen of your phone. How long has he been texting you with random crap?

“I don’t give a shit what he likes.”

“You will. When he whines about it and never lets it go for the rest of your life.”

You sigh defeatedly and give your friend pleading eyes. “Can we please talk about something else? I see and hear Gojo enough during the day. I don’t need to talk about him with you too.”

When your friend agrees, you are blessed with a wonderful, Gojo-free afternoon of chatting, shopping and excessive eating. You’re still buzzing as you climb up the steps to Jujutsu Tech at sundown, rummaging through the tote bag where you had dropped all your little purchases. Just small knick knacks that made you happy to look at.

“Did ya get me anything?”

You yelp and jump, nearly falling off the step behind you but catching yourself before you can faceplant on the concrete. Gojo lets out an annoying cackle at your reaction, making you glare up at him.

“What is wrong with you?! I could’ve gotten seriously injured!”

He scoffs, walking the few steps between you two, hands buried in his pants pockets. “Like I would let that happen. You gotta trust me more, sweetcheeks.”

You ignore the now familiar way your ears and neck heat up, choosing to walk past him and continue your way up the steps.

“So? Got me anything?”

You groan internally, knowing he wouldn’t leave this alone. If you say no, he will complain about how he isn’t important enough in your life to warrant a little gift. If you then say he isn’t, that will result in even worse (and louder) whining, and you don’t have the energy to deal with that right now. You scramble through the bag slung over your shoulder, pulling out a cute carrot shaped pen with a smiley face on it. You had gotten two pens, one carrot shaped and one that looked like corn. You just thought they were insanely cute. It’s okay. You can afford to lose one.

Gojo eyes the pen when you hand it to him. “Why did ya get me this?”

He clearly knows you just pulled a random object out. He just wants to see what you will say.

“It’s…. tall and thin. You’re tall and thin.” You deadpan.

Gojo snorts, seeing through your very obvious lie. “You love me so much, don’t you?”

You stop in your tracks, watching Gojo’s back as he keeps walking, unaffected by your shocked gaze.

“Senpai-”

“See ya tomorrow!” He calls, twiddling the pen around his fingers as he disappears near the landing of the stairs.

Your heart races at his words. You feel angry and frustrated. But you’re not sure at whom.

………………….

When it’s Shoko’s birthday, you are forced to be around Gojo all day.

It’s a harrowing experience, one that can only be withstood by god’s toughest soldier, and god thinks that is you, apparently, because as per his usual habits, Gojo doesn’t leave you alone.

“Oh, this is nothing.” Geto comments, sipping on some fruity punch that you are almost sure contains alcohol. Both of you watch as Gojo tries to tie a conical party hat on Nanami’s head, while the boy in question puts up a valiant fight to try and keep his upperclassman at bay.

“He once had a crush on the daughter of some prominent gang leader in Tokyo. Almost landed himself in jail with the kind of stunts he pulled.”

You blink at him, watching as he brushes some strands of black hair off his face. “Seriously?”

He nods, smirking at your shocked silence, watching the gears in your head turn. “Don’t worry, he won’t do that to you.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “What makes you sure of that?”

Geto shrugs, watching the way Gojo’s eyes flit to you every now and then. You fail to notice it, too caught up in making up scenarios in your head where Gojo does something potentially illegal and lands both of you in serious trouble.

“You’re different.” Is his simple reply. It does nothing but confuse you more.

Later in the night, Shoko forces you to down an alcoholic drink. You sputter on the horrific taste of it, trying to get out from under her hold as she laughs at your reaction. Haibara enjoys your misery just as much, while Nanami’s face is blank. You are sure he is trying to erase tonight from his memory entirely.

The night is cold, but your hands are warm and your head is buzzing with happiness. Your cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and laughing. Every now and then, your eyes would meet brilliant blue ones. You are so cheerful that you even giggle when Gojo makes some lame pun at Geto’s expense. So cheerful, in fact, that you don’t protest when he decides he wants to walk you to your room.

You hum the song you had sung karaoke to, walking without so much as a thought in your head. Gojo is munching on a mini chocolate bar, one hand in his pocket. For once, he is silent.

When you stop at your door, you turn to look at him, trying to search his eyes. You find nothing, and you feel the sudden urge to know more about him. Geto’s words roam through your head.

“Senpai,” You whisper. “Why am I different?”

He smiles then, not his usual toothy grin, but softer, kinder. It makes him look even younger than he is. Somehow, it seems he knows exactly what you mean.

“Because I’m in love with ya, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves it at that. And you don’t ask any follow up questions.

……………………..

Gojo’s love is loud.

He never says the word after that one night. But he never exactly negates his declaration. He continues to be around you as much as possible. He loves pinching at your cheeks until they sting, loves draping an arm over your shoulder and laying a sloppy kiss on it when he can get away with it. He is much taller and stronger than you, so pushing him away does nothing except spur him on even more. You realize that he is naturally a very touchy-feely person, so you dismiss his affection as just him being annoying as hell. Both of you settle into a strange dynamic, one where he teases you endlessly and you try not to appear affected by it.

It’s unconventional but it works. You will even go as far as saying that he is your friend.

When you refer to him as such, he stares at you mouth agape, before letting out a big whoop and crushing you into a hug. You protest his grip and try to free yourself, failing as usual. Deep in your chest, your heart stutters at his proximity.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t have a single subtle bone in his body.

He introduces you as his girlfriend to curses, claiming it doesn’t matter because they are all stupid and can’t understand him anyway, so he can say what he wants. Besides, he’s gonna kill them mere minutes later. You don’t even know where to begin to fight his logic on that, so you just facepalm and let him do it, provided he doesn’t say it in front of actual people.

“You say it like being my girlfriend would be so bad.”

“It would be the worst thing known to mankind. I would kill myself actually.”

That earns you a very strong pinch on the cheek, one that has you yelping and pushing him away. It leaves behind a red mark that makes you hold back a smile every time you see it in the mirror.

Sometimes you wonder how easy it is for him to talk to you like this. He seems to not have an ounce of fear of rejection, no matter how many times you have told him that you aren’t interested. Like he is confident that it simply isn’t true. He makes it seem effortless, to attach himself to you and declare that you’re his ‘favorite’ person and one day he would be your favorite person too.

You try to ignore how accurate you think that is. And how close he is to actually becoming your favorite person. You can’t possibly let him find that out. He would become even more unbearably smug than he already is.

And so you continue to bask in this…. strange limbo. You warm yourself in the glaringly bright light of Gojo Satoru. And you secretly pray that it never goes away.

When Geto defects, you almost lose him.

You find him on the steps of Jujutsu High, staring out at god knows what, completely silent. In your years of knowing him, you had never seen him sit in one place for so long. He doesn’t even budge when you sit next to him. You don’t say a word. And neither does he.

The wind moves gently through his silver locks. The blue in his eyes has dulled and darkened. You sit on those steps for hours.

Something changes between you two after that evening. Somehow, Gojo is more…. human to you now. You see him struggle to come to terms with what has happened, to truly realise the unfair responsibility that he bears on his shoulders as the strongest sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. You sees how that changes him, how it dims him, and how he matures in that time.

Yet Gojo is still Gojo. Even years later, he continues to love you loudly and proudly. He is still constantly attached at the hip to you, even more so in your adult years now that you live off campus. He is somehow always at your place, even after you take away his emergency key because he never uses it for emergencies. There is a ‘Gojo drawer’ in your storage closet, huge bathroom slippers and an extra toothbrush. His preferred brand of shampoo and conditioner are housing in your cabinet, spares that he keeps for when he crashes in your guest bedroom.

(Let’s be honest. It’s less of a guest bedroom and more so Gojo’s room at this point).

You commute to work together in the mornings, which you think is funny since Gojo can just teleport wherever he wants. He says it’s because he wants to spend more time with you.

Oh yeah, he still constantly says he is in love with you.

Years and years after his first declaration, Gojo has still not budged. At this point you are so used to it that it doesn’t bother you anymore. Like it’s second nature. Like Gojo is meant to love you. Like there was never any doubt about it. Your mutual friends have accepted it too by now. No one bats an eye when Gojo whines about missing you. Or when he waltzes into your on-campus office claiming “two hours is enough time for us to be apart”.

You don’t know when exactly it settles over you. How important Gojo is to you. How you can’t go a day without him. How you get pissy and irritable when he goes on missions overseas that take weeks at a time. The transition is so smooth that sometimes you think you were always meant to love Gojo, just like he was always meant to love you.

‘Senpai’ becomes ‘Gojo-san’. Which becomes Satoru’.

It never occurred to you that Gojo was still, technically, a friend. You were with him so often, bickering and snickering, cuddling and lounging around. He was a part of you, like you were a part of him.

Then you hear words that shock you to your very core.

“In my eyes, you two are already married.”

Never in a million years would you have expected Ijichi to say those words. Everyone else is one thing. But fucking Ijichi?

You stare at the back of his head when he says them, the silence in the car deafening. You know Ijichi well enough to be certain he isn’t saying these words falsely, even if he means them lightheartedly. If this is what Ijichi truly thinks, then….. Is it what things are actually like?

It takes only a few minutes of reflection for you to realise that he isn’t far off. Gojo is so deeply ingrained in every nook and cranny of your life that it is beyond irreversible now. There is no way to untangle your lives. He is part of you, just as you are part of him.

It’s almost as if the universe is nodding in confirmation when you open the door to your apartment and find Gojo sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels. He is wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt that looks unfairly good on him, especially since he clearly isn’t trying at all.

He stands up and you notice on the coffee table before him that he has laid out a myriad of snacks, both savory and sweet to cater for your varying taste buds. You spot at least three of your preferred treats in them. Your heart beat slows down, settles. Like you are at peace again. You feel a warmth under your collar. One that you haven’t felt since you were a wee teenager just stepping onto the Jujutsu High campus. You eye the back of Gojo’s head.

“Hey.” He calls, barely glancing back at you, eyeing his treasured snack collection as if contemplating which one he should start with. “Some shitty American reality show is on. You wanna make fun of ‘em together?”

He turns to look at you when you don’t respond, raising an eyebrow. Brilliant blue eyes bore into you.

“You okay?”

You walk closer to him, still silent, until he is mere inches from you, craning your head up to look at him. The background noise from the TV gets tuned out.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

Gojo blinks. “I’d kiss you back.”

Your breath hitches. The knot in your throat tightens. No hesitation. No shock. Not so much as a stir. It’s like you’re asking him what to make for dinner.

“Okay.” You whisper. And then you’re leaning up, pressing your lips to his.

His hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck. The other stabilizes you at the waist. His lips are soft and smooth, almost dainty, slowly picking up intensity as he presses closer to you. Your heart is racing a mile a minute, and as you press closer to him, you feel that his is just the same, the only indication that he is affected by you just as you are by him.

When your lips part, you don’t open your eyes. Your foreheads touch and you let yourself feel, truly feel, the effects of his touch on you.

“I love you.”

Gojo’s smile is soft. His touch is tender. Comforting. Familiar. “I know.”

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[missglaskin]

Yan!HOTD Characters as Greek Gods

I want to thank @aphroditelovesu for giving me the inspiration, also side note do not take the gods canonical relationships literally

Viserys as Hades + God of the Underworld and the Dead

Viserys was a god who stood out from the gloomy darkness of his realm. The seat once shared by his beloved wife is now long dead with all the other souls. No temples were erected in his honor on the earthly soil, for the underworld served as his shrine. Still, Viserys lent many of his powers and crafts to help the other gods defeat their enemies, either it be a monster or a titan. When he needed to see his family, he would emerge to the earth itself. There a moral caught his eye. 

Viserys spent a great deal of time observing your everyday life. He enjoyed catching on to all your little habits and tendencies. The god was prepared to wait until your life's string came to an end. In the mean time, all good things came your way. While he wouldn't be able to stop your death from happening, he can certainly make it as peaceful and painless as possible. Viserys will welcome you with the greatest warmth when you arrive in his realm, and you will be surrounded by servants who will carry out your every wish.

Just as he has done all those other times Viserys will give you the time and space you need to adjust to this new, strange world. Desiring your happiness, Viserys might let you visit Earth but only for a short time. The god can't go too long without you by his side. He detests the idea of using coercion to get what he wants, but Viserys must make sure you never leave him. It is a blessing that you are a mortal, completely unaware of the pomegranate seeds that are given to you.

Daemon as Ares + God of War and Courage 

It was Daemon, out of all the gods, who was most frowned upon, the one with the endless list of foes. Many came to fear him and they had every reason to. For Daemon was a powerful god-quick to anger and raring for a fight regardless of the consequences. A jest spread among the gods was that Daemon's one and only true love was war itself. But what a shock it was to see the mortal in the god's arms. With his remarks and the severe violence he inflicted upon the mortals, Daemon, again and again demonstrated nothing but contempt and superiority over them.

Why you attracted the god of war's attention will forever remain a mystery. Could it be you had a fire inside of you that never went out or you had such a gentle soul that the god saw it as his duty to ruin you, or perhaps he saw you as a fair trade for one of his victories. Truthfully, Daemon himself is not fully sure what drew him to you. Still, the god comes to you, luring you in with lavish gifts and words sweet as honey. And if you aren’t compliant, the god sees no issue picking you up while you struggle to free yourself-screaming and clawing. 

Daemon has no care for what other Olympian deities thought when he kept you near him. They were already not fond of him and he was amused to no end to see their frustration, even having you displayed seated on his lap. Your life with Daemon is strangely not as dull and miserable as one might anticipate. He will always be rough and harsh, but you are shown a rare side of gentleness. You may never know if the god truly loves you, but you can be sure that if someone takes what he views as his, he will go to war a hundred times over it.

Rhaenyra as Athena + Goddess of Wisdom and War

Rhaenyra is a goddess with pride. A great warrior. Rhaenyra does not, however, hold humankind in such low regard as the many gods who came before her. She saw herself as their protector and rewarded those who came to worship in her temple. But it's not as if she isn't dangerous. The goddess is unmerciful in her use of curses. Any offense or insult will result in a terrible fate. And what fate bestows upon you when the goddess herself watches you. Desiring you from the very moment she caught sight of you. 

She is a master of disguise. Every word she spoke enticed you further and further into her grasp. There were the fleeting touches the goddess made to your skin to pique your desire. Her lips were painted with a smile that lowered your guard. You find yourself becoming a puppet as Rhaenyra hovers over you, pulling the strings to speak the words she wants you to hear, to touch her how she wants to be touched, and look at her how she wants to be gazed upon. 

Rhaenyra never wants you to leave her realm. The goddess is ready to gift you whatever your heart desires, but the earth is no longer a place you can call home. Rhaenyra will never lay a hand on you; gentle and soft with you. The only times you no longer see your lover but the goddess of war is if you are foolish enough to believe you can get away from her. She won’t understand. Has she not dedicated herself to you. Has she not given you every ounce of her heart. Whatever the reason is, your place remains by her side and she will make sure you know of this.

Rhaenys as Hecate + Goddess of Magic and the Moon

Rhaenys, the goddess of sorcery and the moon, who her domain also extends to creatures of the night; particularly hounds and ghosts. She’s often seen accompanied by her black hounds, donning a long robe, holding burning torches. Neither was she evil, nor was she wholly benevolent, but she did reveal her nature through actions, rewarding loyalty among her followers. Captivated by your presence in her temple, the goddess of sorcery was drawn to your compassion and innocence. She found herself spending more time just observing you, enchanted by how your features glowed in the gentle embrace of moonlight. 

Rhaenys has always been confident and assertive, when she’s certain that she desires you, she’ll do whatever it takes to have you by her side. However, she’ll stray away from using force. If she’ll seek your companionship, Rhaenys resolutes in waiting it be your choice, to love her the same rather than do it with instilling fear in you. Her introduction was gradual, allowing you to adapt in time to her presence. Much of this is involved in simple conversations, where she enjoys getting to know the little details of your life (even if she already knew most of it). 

Instead of overwhelming you with extravagant gifts, she opted for small trinkets. And adding to the ease of your connection, Rhaenys’s mystical hounds display a fondness for you, allowing you to pet them. Even when you remain in her domain, Rhaenys remains steadfast in not forcing you to love her. She has all the patience as the goddess begins to slowly express her affection more openly with gentle caresses to your face as she presents you with more lavish gifts. Her patience was rewarded seeing how eager you are to spend every moment with her.

Corlys as Poseidon + God of the Sea and Waters

Not only was Corlys the god of the seas but also associated with earthquakes and horses. He stood out as a highly ambitious deity and known for his unwavering loyalty to Mount Olympus. Unlike some deities, Corlys is willing to engage with mortals, after all, they have a dependence on the seas for trade and travel. However, it’s also known that when dealing with the god of the sea, do not try to trick or cross him, for he has demonstrated a vengeful nature when felt insulted. 

It was during your many ventures near the beach, having a profound love and fascination for the sea that you encountered the god of the sea. In your frequent visits, the shores yielded treasures ranging from the most beautiful seashells to even a literal pearl, a gift from the god. Upon making his presence known, Corlys takes matters into his own hands. Taking you to the temple beneath the sea as he cannot rely on chance encounters by the shore and it’ll save him all the trouble of finding you if you choose to never visit again. 

Your place from now on remains with Corly’s temple. He has made promises to make you visit the shore from time to time once he’s confident you won’t attempt an escape. Eager to please, Corlys has an allure of lost treasures within his home, offering you any if you desire. He also takes great care to ensure your comfort, harboring no intention of causing harm or raising his voice. His desire is clear- to have you willingly at his side. 

Laena as Aphrodite + Goddess of Love and Beauty

Laena was more than just being thegoddess of beauty and love; she was one of fertility, pleasure, and eternal youth. Occasionally she presided over marriage. Legends went so far as to attribute her beauty to being the cause of the Trojan War. Despite her being desired and adored by everyone, even capturing the affections of the infamous god of war himself, Laena's heart chose you; a mortal who didn’t seem all that extraordinary. But none of that mattered to the goddess of love, who found herself drawn to you, desiring nothing more than for you to share her boundless love and adoration. 

When Laena first approached you, she displayed no hesitation in expressing her clear intentions of wanting to court you. Doves and sparrows seemed to fly around you. In the vicinity of your home, myrtles and roses bloomed abundantly and Laena took it upon herself to personally hand you the blossoms, alongside the most marvelous seashells. Whenever you expressed gratitude or attempted to deny her gifts out of politeness, Laena would firmly assure you that you deserved nothing but the best. As she would engage in conversations, Laena would hold your gaze, running her fingers on your cheek or shoulder with such tenderness. 

Even after you became hers, Laena never stops showering you with praise and luscious gifts. The dresses she adorned you with were among the most lavish you had ever seen, and men would certainly go to war for the jewelry that adorned your skin. And for her home, which she claims is now your home too, she’s willing more than anything to accommodate any of your demands to make it all the more welcoming. Whether it’s placing all your favorite books or presenting you all your favorite foods. After all, you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with her.  

Otto as Zeus + God of the Sky and Thunder 

Otto stood as the god among gods, the force behind the establishment of order and justice in Olympus. It was his duty as king, to reign and ensure harmony throughout the divine realm. He had a number of children; it counted those that were outside of his marriage. Mortals and gods alike collectively averted their gaze, as the god of thunder desired to maintain an image of a prudent and a pious. And while like any god, he considered himself above mortal beings, he would observe them with keen interest. 

Unfortunate for you, if you happened to catch his eye, resisting him was a futile endeavor. It began with him orchestrating ways to make your life more comfortable — discovering the lushest trees near your home, bearing the most delectable fruits you'd ever savor. An eagle, acting as his messenger, would shower you with all sorts of gifts, from fragrant olive oils to delicate silver coins and ivory trinkets. The weather seemed to dance to his whims, birds serenading under the radiant sun.

It was also his way to signal his presence, a silent acknowledgment a being beyond the mortal realms was watching. And when his presence becomes known, he vows to treasure you for eternity (hinting at what’ll become of your mortal life). It’s difficult to deny him with all the myriad blessings he bestowed upon you. Once you’re brought to his home, he will present you with a luxurious silk robe and servants who dutifully follow your every command. Even if you resist, his determination remains unswayed. As a god, time was his ally and he believed in due course, you would succumb to his temptations.

Alicent as Hera + Goddess of Marriage and Childhood

Alicent stood as the embodiment of matrimony and domestic life, a revered figure to whom women turned in prayer for the blessings of harmonious marriages, the safe return of their husbands, and in hopes of birthing a healthy child. Despite her attempts to project a demure demeanor, the goddess had a silent reputation for her jealousy and occasional vengefulness. Alicent had divine authority, navigating the intricate game of politics and perhaps that was why no one dared to question her decision to bring a mortal being along.  

It was all under the reason of needing a servant though you were not yet married, still, no one dared to voice it. As her supposed servant, you were strangely exempt from menial tasks such as washing clothes or scrubbing the floor; such duties were deemed beneath you. Instead, the majority of your days were spent in the company of the goddess. You found yourself dressing and brushing Alicent’s hair as she shared her grievances about the perceived foolishness surrounding her court. 

Your time was further consumed by tending to Hera’s children and grandchildren, and her strictures extended to where you were not permitted to eat meals with other servants. In truth, the goddess had little need for another servant. But you a mortal, had sought her prayer, coming to her temple wishing for a happy life for the arrangement your parents orchestrated for you. But Alicent had been watching you long before and you have become the object of her desire. She promised to find you a suitor but the intensity of her gaze and the uncanny resemblance between the necklace of hers and the one she gifted you hints at something beyond that. 

Aegon II as Dionysus + God of Wine and Pleasure 

Aegon is known for seemingly lazy nature and rarely being seen sober, he’s notorious for the wild parties and dramatic theaters he orchestrates. The many lovers he has are ones that no one bothers to learn their names, as they typically don’t linger beyond a day. The few bastards he fathered are not accounted for. When the god of wines comes upon you, there was an unmistakable eagerness to have you in his bed. While you and others are at no fault to assume that it was driven solely by lust, you soon find it unraveled beyond that. 

As a mortal, the prospect of rejecting a god was not a reasonable one. His presence was suffocating with a possessive jealousy over your interactions with others and an incessant need for you to be near him. At times, he would pull you into his lap, craving for your affection and praise. Besides his constant need to have you share his bed at every turn, his lingering hands, and wanting your every attention, it’s not as terrible as one initially assumes. 

The god of wine provided you with the sweetest food, accompanied of course by his signature wine. He adorned you in exquisite clothing, though in the privacy of his chambers, they were far more revealing and sheer. While it was somewhat accepted to have fleeting lovers for a day, appearing with you by his side on every occasion garnered disapproval from the other gods. However, Aegon was indifferent; no stranger to being considered a disappointment. You were the one thing he was sure of, even harboring a secret desire to make you immortal, hoping you don’t notice how different your wine tastes.

Helaena as Persephone + Goddess of Seasons and Vegetation

Helaena possessed a kind of gentleness that was unusual among the gods. She carried herself with such grace and consideration. Helaena grew up to be a lovely woman who caught the interest of gods and humans alike. With mortals, the goddess did not look down on them. If anything, Helaena seemed to see the goodness and beauty in them despite all of their flaws. It therefore comes as no great surprise when the goddess seems so enchanted by you-a simple mortal. 

Helaena spent many days watching you. She possessed unending patience. What a fascinating sight you are. Deemed by the goddess to be the most beautiful being to ever walk this earth. Helaena cared nothing more than your happiness hence why you come home to a plethora of gifts and trinkets. It could be the most delicious fruit you've ever eaten or a dress the goddess sewed herself. And wherever you are, you found plants growing all around that never seem to wither-fruits and vegetables you never imagined would ever grow there.

Helaena was content as long as she could see you every day. Even if she couldn't speak or stand before you. All that mattered to her was to see your lovely smile as you open her gifts or to hear your joyful laughter. But shall you wish to meet her. Shall you seem unsatisfied with your life. Helaena will make her presence known. The goddess is nothing but a tender lover. Giving you all the time you need to adjust to her realm. Happy to watch from a distance and just speak with you.

Aemond as Apollo - God of Sun and Art

Aemond was also a god of music, truth, and healing, he was considered wise even at such a relatively young age. He enjoyed writing poems and believed in law and order. Unlike his brother, Aemond was recognized for his numerous contributions, particularly in the realms of medicine and prophecy. Aemond shows intense loyalty to his family and a great love for his mother but also is known for his jealousy and a wrathful nature; particularly when he perceives insults directed at his family or either himself. 

Many of your actions could’ve caught his eye, your visits to his temple, your singing voice echoing through the fields, how you immersed yourself far away from everyone else with the books you read. He doesn’t wish to frighten you,  guided by a gentle approach to engage you in conversations. You can feel his gaze follow you, a silent presence that seems to accompany your every move. In due time, Aemond would express his desire for you to be his lover, to not only give him your body, but your mind and soul. Even if you do not share his feelings, denying him is not advisable, Aemond is not one for rejections. 

Even if you were to deny him, Aemond would still bring you to Mount Olympus, introducing you to the other gods, making sure you understood that your place belonged with him. And while he attempts to give you some space, the god of the sun cannot bring himself to stay away. Aemond sought to spend every moment of the day with you, from sharing the same bed, to waking together to sharing meals. He yearns to hear your every thought from the flowers you liked to your opinion on the poetry he’s dedicated to you.

Criston as Heracles + Demi- God of Strength and Heroes

Criston was born a mortal. Yet even as a child, Criston showed such strength and courage unmatched by any other. He has proven to be a fierce warrior over the years. While he was hailed as a hero, many of his rage-fueled actions beg to differ. It took Criston to die to be reborn as the Demi-god. Taken from the flames to Mount Olympus where he was granted eternal youth and the right to live among the gods. He was offered a goddess, but Criston had his eyes set somewhere else.

Criston believes he must protect you. That you need him far more than he needs you. You are just a mere mortal. One fall can be fatal. Doesn't matter that his involvement could be the very reason your life is at forfeit. Makes no difference the many times you struggle and try to escape him. Criston holds you in his arms, repeating the same mantra over and over. That you have a need for him. That he must shield you from all those who will harm you. He rarely leaves your side, and no amount of begging or insults will convince him to do so.

As your lover, you have a man capable of crushing a village to ruins, capable of winning against an army. You bring out the worst in him, the madness. A madness seen in the mere thought of you being in another’s arms. Criston won't accept the possibility of your death. He was blessed with the gift of immortality and will stop at nothing to grant you the same blessing. A wonderful thought to him, but a nightmare to you. Given the chaos that will be left behind, the gods may grant him his wish.

[justa-fanfic-writer]

– Obedient little boy

Obedient Law, Law acts like a Lovesick dog, OOC Law, I had a make-out session with canon and threw them out the window, and Male Reader is on their makima phase.

Trafalagar Law x Male Reader

Summary: The straw hats never knew that Trafalgar Law could be so... obedient? While the other heart pirates were already used to it but they all were still uncomfortable with it, but You and Law don't give two fucks–

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The Thousand Sunny sailed smoothly under the bright blue sky, the waves gently lapping against the ships as the Straw Hat Pirates and Heart Pirates were gathered for a meeting. The two crews had teamed up again for a joint mission while Law was thinking of making a strategy. The rest were mingling and shared stories or just doing their own business.

But there was one thing that no one would have anticipated, and it was about to leave the Straw Hats in complete utter shock.

Trafalgar Law, the stoic and usually serious captain of the Heart Pirates, stood at the side of the deck, his gaze fixed on you-his boyfriend, and the one person who had him wrapped around your finger. You, with your sweet yet almost sickening smile, approached him with a look that made Law's heart race. The Heart Pirates exchanged uneasy glances, knowing exactly what was coming, while the Straw Hats remained blissfully unaware.

You stopped in front of Law, your smile widening as you spoke in a voice that dripped with honey.

"Law, why don't you sit down and be a good boy for me?"

The command was soft, but it had an immediate effect. Without hesitation, Law obediently sat down on a nearby crate, his usual serious expression melting away into one of quiet submission. The Heart Pirates, already used to this strange dynamic, shifted uncomfortably but remained silent. However, the Straw Hats were utterly stunned.

"W-What the...?"

Sanji stammered, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips.

"Is this real?"

Usopp whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief,

Even Zoro, who rarely showed surprise, raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the sight of Law being so compliant.

You didn't seem to notice–or care– about the shock you were causing. Instead, you flashed that same sweet smile and, without missing a beat, settled yourself on Law's lap. The move was so casual, so natural, that it almost seemed as if you had done it a thousand times before which, in truth, you probably had.

Law's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, and he looked up at you with an expression that could only be described as adoring. The tough, battle-hardened captain of the Heart Pirates was nowhere to be seen; in his place was a man completely and utterly devoted to you.

You reached up and gently patted his head, your fingers threading through his dark hair.

"Such a good boy, Law"

You cooed, your voice soft and affectionate.

"You're my very good boy, aren't you?"

Law's cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't try to hide his reaction. Instead, he leaned into your touch, practically melting beneath your gentle praise. The sight was enough to send shivers down the spines of anyone watching but for entirely different reasons.

The Straw Hats were in various states of disbelief and discomfort. Luffy's mouth hung open, completely stunned by what he was seeing. Nami and Robin exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned, while Chopper hid his face behind his hooves, clearly embarrassed.

Jinbei and Brook, tho? Well, let's just say Brook had his jaw wide open while Jinbei was looking at the other direction, hoping to be distracted by the view.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Heart Pirates, though maybe accustomed to this odd display of affection, still couldn't help but feel a little weirded out by it. They had seen their captain in countless dangerous situations, facing down enemies without fear, but seeing him like this– completely submissive to you–was something they would never fully get used to.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against Law's as you whispered.

"My perfect little puppy"

And then You kissed him, long and slow, your fingers still gently stroking his hair.

Law had responded immediately, his arms tightening around you as he returned the kiss with a passion that belied his usually reserved nature. It was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist for him–there was only You, and he was completely lost in your touch.

The Straw Hats could only watch in stunned silence as the kiss continued, the air around them thick with an uncomfortable tension. When You finally pulled away, a satisfied smile on your lips, Law was left breathless, his eyes half-lidded and filled with adoration that you might as well could also see the hearts on his eyes.

You chuckled softly, giving him one last affectionate pat on the head.

"Such a good puppy"

You murmured, and Law practically purred in response, his contentment radiating from him like warmth from the sun.

The silence is LOUD

By this point, the Straw Hats were actually on the verge of gagging. Specifically, Sanji as he had turned away, muttering something about how quote on quote on that. "Love should be beautiful, not this... this weird show!" As Sanji felt like gagging as he stuck his tongue out.

Usopp looked like he was about to actually pass out, and even Luffy was scratching his head, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

The Heart Pirates, though trying to maintain their composure, were clearly struggling to keep their cool. Some of them were muttering under their breath, while others just looked away, pretending to be interested in anything other than the sight of their captain being so utterly... domesticated and love sickened...

As for You, you simply smiled, completely unfazed by the reactions around you. You knew exactly how much you affected Law, and you relished in it. Leaning back slightly, you allowed Law to wrap his arms more securely around you, his head resting against your shoulder as he basked in your presence

It was clear to everyone now– no matter how strong or serious Trafalgar Law might appear to the world, when it came to you, he was nothing more than an obedient, lovesick puppy

And this nightmare of an event was something none of them would never ever forget ever.

And while Male Reader and Law are still in the background still making out–

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Made this because I had a dream with law being an obedient boy, AND I LOVE ME HOT MEN WHOS OBEDIANT FOR YOU, AND YOU ONLY SO BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BITCHES.

[thewertsearch]

@elkian asked: PS - I think Sally can watch [S] Duodecim Rex Angelus at this point(?), but obvs I don't want to interrupt if she's on a roll lol @marinerofthestars asked: Since you’ve now finished Act 5, I think you can now watch (and react to when you have some time?) Rex Duodecim Angelus without risk of spoilers. It’s a 7-minute long fanmade Flash depicting the trolls’ battle against the Black King at the end of their session, hope you enjoy: https://youtu.be/-19Up0dLzNw @captorations asked: you've probably got a bunch of messages about this but. there's a fanfic out there that is the full text of strider-ified detective pony, and it is, unironically, one of the greatest fanworks ever created. i do not grant that title lightly, and i cannot recommend it enough. also! maybe i've forgotten and you did cover it, but. at this point i believe you're very much able to watch rex duodecim angelus, the fanmade flash of the trolls fighting their black king, without spoilers of any kind. some parts of act 6 can be a bit slow, so. if you need a break for action, it's there @joyfulldreams asked: By the way, since you've finished Act 5, you can absolutely watch Rex Duodecim Angelus now! (If you haven't already.) @transguyhawkeye asked: Not sure if anyones mentioned it yet but now that you've read the ancestor section you should be able to watch [s] Rex Duodecim Angelus spoiler-free! Anonymous asked: It looks like maybe no one's pointed out that you can now watch Rex Duodecim Angelus (which you were recommended in 2022 and 2023 but it was too early to watch then). You should definitely do that. Hussie declared it canonical, and Cat even suggested liveblogging it. Anonymous asked: OKAY YAY. There's a fan animation that I hear Hussie canonized called [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus and most people recommend that the earliest possible spot in a reading to view it is right after the completion of act 5. You don't have to liveblog it but I would LOVE it if you did. Anonymous asked: Augh I forgot to add that Rex Duodecim Angelus is of the troll session's fight against the black king. That would be worth mentioning. Especially so that you could dig up some of the references to the battle made in the comic ;>_> @morganwick asked: [...] this is a reminder that you used to go through the newsposts/blog posts/Formspring answers preserved in the Homestuck Collection, but you haven't done that in a while (cancelling it at the end of Act 4 in your haste to get to Act 5); were you thinking of catching up at the end of Act 5? I think you're close to the point where the Formspring stopped already. @likelyvampirical asked: [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus is now spoiler-free. On a related note, we've not had an episode of Tunes with Sally since November 2022. Maybe we could do some album reviews before coming back with Act 6?

Yup, it's finally time. After hearing about this legendary video for over a year and a half, today I'm going to check out one of Homestuck's most iconic fanworks, [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus!

I've heard from several people now that Hussie declared it canon, but no one's been able to track down a source for that just yet. Either way, it's clearly intended to be canon-compliant, so I'm interested in seeing how they handle the more ambiguous aspects of this fight, such as Gamzee's Rage attack.

On another note, I've deliberately placed Tunes with Sally on hiatus until later in the comic - mostly because the albums often contain songs from flashes we haven't seen yet, and I want to experience Homestuck's OST from within the comic first.

Finally, I promise I'll get to the Formspring eventually, as well as Hussie's news and blog posts. They're just not a giant priority, at the moment - but if anyone's got any specific Hussie quotes they'd like me to check out, feel free to send 'em in.

Anyways, I'll be watching Rex Duodecim Angelus after I've had dinner. Talk to y'all then!

[yandere-daydreams]

Okok gonna face my fears and send this off anon . . . ♡ I woke up at 6am and have been plagued by the concept of yan!satosugu with idol darling like all morning

Walk with me here okokokokok. So like satoru obviously has like sooo much money. What if just to get a break from focusing on sorcery all the time he became a sponsor or even producer for a very cute girlypop idol group,,, (and yes I do think he would be kinda weird/creepy to idol darling, especially with how he views himself as basically untouchable (I mean he has enough money to pay the right people off) sooo). 

That’s where suguru comes in (I see this as a mostly canon-compliant geto never defected au). Obviously he would want to keep up with what his best friend is up to, so he’s like a day one supporter of said idol group. With how the japanese idol industry seems to have a focus on the youth and purity of female idols, I could definitely see suguru wanting to “protect his oshi’s innocence” . . .

So if (let’s be honest, WHEN) satosugu bring idol darling home, I could totally see suguru just absolutely babying the poor girl to kind of a weird infantilizing degree?? If that makes sense?? Like very much trying to condition darling into relying on them for everything

I would assume that satoru would be a lot more upfront about how much of a gross perv he is (especially since he probably mistreated the group members to some extent)

I think they would expect total compliance from darling, but if darling ever acts up I can’t help but think one of their go-to punishments would be forcing her to perform the groups choreographies with some sort of “handicap” ie vibrator taped to her pussy at the full speed (and yes they would probably reprimand if she messes up - gotta make sure their number one idol isn’t missing practice!!

Speaking of missing practice/group activities, I fully believe it is within satoru’s capabilities to spread the narrative that darling just kinda . . . suddenly “graduated” from the group and left without a trace, so therefore the other members shouldn’t worry about her and should instead just resume group activities!! (I could also see satosugu using this as some kind of mental leverage over idol darling - like “hey, your group is actually way more popular now that you’ve left”)

Sorry gang I fear I let the thoughts simmer for too long . . .

please let me know your thoughts :3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, idol exploitation, long-term stalking, and obsessive behavior.

WAIT may i suggest: suguru and satoru as parasocial ultra-fans of the same idol as kind of an escapism thing from the stress of being some of the world's most powerful sorcerers, with satoru having the fortune to completely devote himself to making him and suguru your #1 fans. you start to recognize them around the fifth time they miraculously appear at the very front of the line for your post-concert meet-and-greet, but since they're a little bit older and they always have a small gaggle of shy, but polite preteens with them, you just assume they're a pair of wealthy fathers eager to fuel their kids' shared fixation. sure, it's a little strange that the white-haired man always seems more excited to shake your hand than his standoffish son, and it does raise a few concerns when the twin girls spend the majority of their time with you gushing about their black-haired father, but you're a very popular idol with a very busy schedule. you don't have a lot of time to think about one strange family out of the hundred or so you'll meet, that night.

you don't have a lot of time to think about them until your group starts getting extravagant, expensive gifts and donations - always paired with the a gushing fan letter and always sent from one of two increasingly familiar names. since you always seem to be the primary focus, you're the one pressured by your producers to film 'thank you' videos that are just a little too intimidate, to post the type of pictures your generous sponsors compliment the most heavily more often than you may like to. it gets to the point where you're being asked how you'd feel about ""private shows"" to ""ensure the support of a select demographic"", but you adamantly refuse every time it's brought up. it's enough to have to deal with satoru's touchiness at your handshake events, suguru's prying gaze from his permanent seat in the front row of your group's concerts. you don't need to be trapped in the same room as them, alone and all-but paid to cooperate, to know that you want as little to do with them as possible.

that is, until your producer slips you a drink that's just a little too bitter during rehearsal and you wake up in a large room decorated entirely with your merch and memorabilia, to satoru's head between your thighs and suguru behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder as he tells you about how excited they are to finally meet their favorite idol in person, how patiently they've been waiting for you to finally retire and take on a more domestic lifestyle. they'll be delighted to find out that, because of how long you've been in the industry and how protective your fans can be, you're still very much a virgin, and you very much need your two biggest fans to show you what you've been missing <3 if you're lucky, they'll even add pictures of your first climax to the shrine they've been building since they day they first discovered you, the shrine they're going to be keeping you inside of from now on. you might be crying, sure, begging to be let go, but that's alright.

in time, you'll realize how lucky you are to have such devoted fans.

[glitter-stained]

I know some people argue that robin!Jason and Dick were never close post-crisis pre n52 because they only interacted a couple of times in canon and I understand that due to Dick living away when they first met they wouldn't be as close as the relationship Dick has with some of his other siblings, but I would also wish we would take in account that for all three of Jason's years, we have like 30 issues of Jason's run. That's exceedingly small. We have batman #416, we have that one moment in teen titans (i forgot the issue) of jason working with the team, and i think the ski trip we found out later about was included in the same canon*. (also, i do feel like even if you didn't know/like eachother before going on a ski trip together by the end of the ski trip this will have changed, and the picture definitely felt like they were getting along even though Jason's face in the picture was comically weird.) I'm not sure if there were other interactions shown or mentioned, but hey, 2-3/30ish isn't a bad score at all! If we're going 3/30, that's a whole tenth of Jason's robin era.

(And I'm talking about their relationship from Dick's pov since it's the one in question here but it's clear to me in Jason's run, even post-crisis, that Dick is often on his mind and important in his life (with a certain inferiority complex the little siblings of very cool people know well) with stuff like I think Batman #410 or Jason is Legends.)

And even more importantly, 30ish is extremely short for three damn years. That's ten issues per year! Do we assume that Jason was sitting on a shelf for the whole time he's not working with batman in the comics? Do we assume batman was sitting on a shelf twiddling his thumbs all that time during those three years he appears, either? It's perfectly logical to make the assumption that Bruce and Jason were still going out as goddamn Batman and Robin even when it's not shown on screen and having a relationship and interacting together even when it's not seen. In fact it's the most reasonable and logical assumption even. It's obvious Jason and Bruce's interactions extend past what was shown on screen so why wouldn't Dick and Jason? We know from Dick's relationship to his death that Dick cared about Jason. We know how much his death impacted him. Regardless of the (now retconned) terrible mess that was their relationship after Jason came back, they had a relationship, and it was good, and how deep it went is up to interpretation but it doesn't cheapen or lessen any of Dick's relationship with his other siblings to acknowledge that (like, seriously, even though some of them might view it as such in the story, dick's love isn't a prize that can only go to the one blorbo to win the competition. Personally I don't see Robin Jason being his favourite, and that's fine. Probably since, as I only have one sibling to be weird about, this is one aspect of Dick and Jason's relationship that I don't project onto them.)

There's a difference between saying "those are the only canon interactions between Dick and Robin!Jason that we know of" and saying "those are the only interactions that happened between Jason and Dick when Jason was Robin", especially if the next sentence is going to be something like "read a comic". I want to insist that I'm not saying that they have to have been super close. All I'm saying is I don't see, with the knowledge I personally have of canon and the retcons I choose to disregard (because of terrible writing), why considering that they were close wouldn't be canon compliant.

Leeway, nuance and up to interpretation stuff are fun and should matter for evaluating the level of canon compliance of your own headcanons, and I think it's especially important when trying to police other people's interpretation of canon: are you certain their interpretation is fanon and you're correcting it with the right canon, or is it a case of two headcanons clashing in the blank space between comic pages?

I just found it strange to never see it taken in account in the sometimes pretty emphatic takes I saw on the debate around their relationship, so those are my two cents on the matter. All this to say, [theatre joke in coming], when it comes to Dick and Jaybin, we could all stand to be more chill.

* btw i'm excluding dixon's nightwing year one from this conversation because I hate how it manages to shit on every one of the characters i've seen him write in it so violently and also fuck dixon, my jason comes from post-crisis not that crappy weirdo retcon.

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 3

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student's satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸ Pairing: Jayvik/reader

➸ Chapter Word Count: 2,795

➸ Tags: romance, slow burn, yearning, eventual smut, non canon compliant

➸Notes: Thanks for all the love, y’all! I’m still very new to writing, and your words are so kind. After this chapter, there won’t be a time skip. Things will also differ a bit to what you see in the show, again, I’m just making shit up. Also, we love Mel in this house. Man, when are these dorks going to stop committing crimes?

➸ Previous Chapter Link- pt.2

You’ve never spent much time in Piltover. Your grandmother never allowed it, knowing that the city’s blinding light would expose you and your mother in ways the shadows of the Undercity never could. Piltover is too bright, too open—its light strips away every ounce of protection. The silence here presses in, unnervingly thick, as if the air itself is watching, waiting. You feel as though people could hear your thoughts if they tried.

The three of you move through the academy hall, its vastness stretching endlessly before you. The shadows here are shallow, offering no real cover. Even clinging to the walls, you feel too exposed. Viktor’s cane clicks softly against the floor, a sound that cuts through the stillness, guiding you and Jayce toward Heimdinger’s lab. You glance around the corner, your pulse quickening, but there’s no sign of security. A breath of relief washes over you—Piltover’s arrogance is working in your favor tonight. Their focus is on the Undercity, not their precious academy.

“This way,” Viktor’s voice echoes, low but steady, the sound lingering in the air. You crouch by the door, the small light in your hand trembling, its beam shaking slightly. Viktor fumbles with the keys, his fingers quick but steady.

Jayce crouches beside you, his breath quick and shallow, his body tight with nervous energy. “We need to hurry,” he whispers, his voice tight with barely contained panic.

Viktor mutters, “I’d hurry if I wasn’t being crowded,” a strained smile flickering across his face. His hands are quick as he slots the first key into the lock, and with a soft click, it turns. “So far, so good,” he murmurs, though the words don’t carry the relief you’d expect.

Your attention shifts back to the hallway, the stillness thickening. Then it comes, a faint hum, barely perceptible at first. It pulls at you, a crackling sensation that makes the air feel alive, sparking across your skin. Your hand lowers involuntarily, the light dipping. It’s like something invisible is pushing against you, crawling beneath your skin, urging you forward.

Suddenly, the quiet is shattered by a flash of blinding light.

“Hm. Willing to risk exile for your endeavor? That’s quite the conviction.”

You flinch, eyes struggling to adjust to the blinding brightness. As your vision struggles to clear, something else cuts through—an overwhelming wave of energy. It rushes in, igniting your senses, filling the space around you with a crackling force. It’s golden, electric, like a thousand sparks flying through the air, threading through every nerve. You can feel it, pulling you toward the confrontation, an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

And then Jayce moves. Without hesitation, he shifts in front of you, crouching low still, positioning himself between you and the source of the light. His body is rigid, protective, instinctively shielding you from view. Viktor, still in front of both of you, tenses, his breath hitching slightly in response to the light.

“Wait a minute—this isn’t my bedroom. How could I have—?” Viktor stammers, his voice thin, scrambling for an excuse as his words trip over each other. Jayce follows, almost in unison, “Counselor! What a surprise to see you—uh…” He trails off, realizing with resignation that you’ve all been caught.

Jayce straightens, quickly adopting a more reasoned tone. “Please, we can prove that it works.” As you stand behind him, you subtly adjust your position to get a better look at the woman. Her presence is as commanding as her appearance—graceful, authoritative, poised. She reminds you of a painting, vivid brushstrokes capturing a beauty so striking it almost seems unreal. Her gaze is fixed on Jayce as he speaks, analyzing him intently, as though she could unravel him with a mere glance.

Her eyes flicker toward you for a brief moment, the sudden contact causing you to retreat behind Jayce again. Her voice is laced with serious amusement. “You couldn’t do so earlier today. How is tonight any different?”

You feel the urge to speak up, but the knowledge that she’s a counselor keeps you silent. This is not how you imagined your night would unfold. Your mind briefly flashes to Benzo—how disappointed he’d be if you ended up locked up.

Viktor’s voice cuts through your anxious thoughts. You shift your gaze to watch as he stands. “We figured out how to stabilize it.” He sounds slightly annoyed, as if he expects she won’t understand.

She shifts the light from Jayce to you, then to Viktor, taking a moment to assess your odd little group.

Her eyebrow quirks. “The professor’s assistant and… a stray.” Apparently, that’s what she’s concluded after a quick assessment.

You can feel Jayce stiffen, his voice far firmer than before. “No. They’re my new partners.”

She redirects her gaze to focus on Jayce’s face. Her voice is smooth. “Even if you manage to prove your theory, the council would destroy it.”

Viktor speaks again, his annoyance now extremely evident, and she shifts the light to focus on him. “Heimerdinger will recognize the potential.”

“He already does.” She doesn’t waver, her eyes meeting yours again. You fight the instinct to hide, forcing yourself to stand your ground and hoping she can’t see the fear in your eyes. She softens slightly. “It scares him. It scares them all.”

You should stay quiet—you have no place speaking to a council member, especially since she’s already made it clear what she thinks of you. The “stray” comment is still burning in your chest. But before you can stop yourself, your curiosity wins out over your better judgment. “What about you?”

She pauses, the shock of you speaking quickly masked by her practiced indifference. Her eyes seem to hold either challenge or intrigue. You ignore the two men’s clear panic at your intervention, choosing instead to focus on staying calm.

“I recognize that any worthwhile venture involves risk.”

A whistling tune shifts all attention away from you. The energy in the room becomes immediately panicked—you realize it’s the sound of a security guard. She listens for a moment, clearly amused by the way the three of you react.

Jayce starts pleading. “Counselor, this technology is real, and no matter what happens here, it’s going to change our world. We should be the ones to lead it. Piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. I know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us? Please, just give us a chance.”

You and Viktor share a glance, the hope between you both palpable. You both hold your breath.

She finally cuts through the suffocating silence, her focus shifting across the three of you. “You have one night.” You all exhale, relieved. “Impress me, or I suggest you pack your bags.”

And just like that, you’re once again left in the darkness, listening as she leads the guard away. None of you dare move for another minute, until Viktor takes your hand, reigniting the small light for you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden contact, a new anxiety filling your chest as he gives you a tight smile before crouching once more. You resume your positions, unlocking the door again—this time uninterrupted.

As you step into the room, you attempt to break the tension. Quirking an eyebrow at Viktor as Jayce rushes to his equipment, you tease, “This isn’t my bedroom?”

His eyes widen for a moment before he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I’m not great under pressure.”

The two of you surround Jayce, who’s fully focused on his task. Your eyes scan the table. You expected a lot, but this… this is far more than you could have imagined.

It’s beautiful. Every inch is covered not just in pieces of his research, but in countless magical artifacts. You have to fight the urge to inspect each one.

Jayce’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up to realize both men are watching you. You’d expected annoyance at your clear distraction, but instead, their gazes are soft. “We won’t have time to modify the stabilizer. We’ll need to input the right rune combination manually. Can you write them down?”

“Oh, yes, I can, but I’ll need a few minutes.” Nerves settle slightly—it’s a familiar task, but one you haven’t practiced in a while.

Viktor hands you paper and a pen. “Take your time. We’ll need to adjust the oscillation.”

You head to the other side of the room, away from the boys, who are now bent over the machine. The soft clicking of metal and their murmured collaboration fills the room. You take in your surroundings, tuning your senses to the unfamiliar space. Without thinking, you close your eyes. The sounds, the scent of dusty parchment, the temperature, and the hum of unique energy surround you. You carefully guide the symbols on the paper, confident in your work. By the time you head back, Jayce is adding the crystal to the machine with a soft click.

You hand the paper to Viktor, who takes it with his free hand, the other snapping closed the book he holds. You can feel his excited confidence, and see the playful glint in his eyes again. “Time to crank it.”

Jayce is much less confident, his voice wavering as he looks over at Viktor. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Viktor’s only response is a tight grimace and a shake of his head. You can’t help but snort at the exchange. The three of you gather closer, as if the stone is drawing you in. After a moment of hesitation, Viktor reaches his hand past you, softly clicking the button.

The hum of the crystal intensifies as the machine starts to spiral. Blue light crackles in front of your eyes. Wind picks up as the machine gains power, and you feel Jayce’s panic spike beside you.

“I don’t think it’s gonna hold! Look at the buildup!” Jayce practically yells.

You’re mesmerized by the energy, fighting the urge to reach out. Viktor’s voice is steady and confident. “The resonance will stabilize it. Trust me.” And, as if the stone was listening, it does stabilize. You can practically feel Viktor’s pride.

He finally looks over at Jayce. “I told you it would work.” Anticipation builds. “All yours.”

Jayce is lost in the sight before him, his eyes sparkling with the blue light. Breathless, he murmurs, “Wow, it’s never done that before.” He glances at you with a tight nod, then looks at the runes you wrote. “Alright… here we go.”

Jayce begins to input the rune combination, using the dial. You hold your breath, hoping you got it right. It’s working, and then… he hesitates. The moment disrupts the flow, and the crystal emits a harsh energy. Jayce panics and stops turning the dial altogether. The crystal destabilizes, and you mindlessly grip Viktor’s arm to stay upright. The energy is violent and chaotic.

You shout over the deafening ringing, “You have to continue or it’ll combust!”

Viktor steps closer to you, hand discarding his cane to grip the table. In all the tense moments tonight, this is the first time you see him panic. “Disengage!”

Jayce seems to realize it too, trying to reach for the dial but failing.

A booming sound erupts, and for a moment, time seems to slow. The energy releases away from you. Your eyes fling to the window, the glass shattering and slowly moving outward, until suddenly, the energy pulls back violently, dragging the shards of glass with it. Before any of you can react, the glass slices against your arm. Somehow, Jayce manages to hit the dial, stopping the machine.

The room plunges into darkness, the silence so thick that all you can hear are the frantic beats of your own heart. “Incredible.” You can’t help but smile in the dark, even as your mind races. Of course Viktor finds wonder in it, even though it’s obvious things have gone wrong.

Jayce fumbles to light a lamp and as your eyes adjust, you realize you’re still gripping Viktor’s arm. You release it, and with the movement, it feels like you finally exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Jayce looks between the two of you before stepping back to inspect the machine. Stopping to retrieve his fallen cane, Viktor moves to join him. He hisses, his finger brushing a cut on Jayce’s cheek. Even in the low light, you swear you see Jayce’s ears flush red.

The open window lets outside noise filter in, and shouts from below pull your attention.

“Oh, shit.” The curse slips out before you can stop it as you see enforcers flooding into the academy. There’s no way they missed the explosion—or the light. The realization hits you immediately, and a tight knot forms in your stomach.

The three of you spring into action, but it feels too slow. Jayce works frantically at the machine, and you rush to the door. You lock it just as someone starts pounding on it.

“Open this door immediately!” a voice demands from the other side. Panic spikes in your chest as you hear the unmistakable sound of the door’s lock starting to be undone. You glance back at the boys, both working with urgency.

Just as you look up, Viktor tosses his cane at you. You catch it, surprised, and he raises his eyebrows, his gaze flicking to the door, wordlessly telling you to reinforce it. You slot the cane into place without hesitation, securing the door.

Turning back, you see Jayce place a stone into place with a soft click, quickly resuming his work.

“They’re almost in!” you say, your voice sharp with urgency. The door is being hammered by several people on the other side, the cane barely holding them back.

You try to steady yourself and give Jayce’s arm a quick squeeze, a silent reminder to stay calm. He glances back, giving a tight nod. This time, he closes his eyes as he inputs the runes, his movements as fluid as when you’d deciphered them earlier. You and Viktor lean in, the sound of the shouts from outside fading as the hum of the machine grows louder. And then, suddenly—

A surge of energy pulls back, holding the world suspended in quiet anticipation before it bursts outward again. This time, the energy floods the room, wrapping everything in its glow before it stills, weightless. You’ve never known the world in this way—seeing everything from so high, as if you’re no longer bound to Runeterra. The light doesn’t intimidate you. Instead, it fills you with a profound sense of awe, a wonder so deep it almost hurts. It should feel wrong, an unnatural defiance of gravity’s pull, but instead, it feels as if you’re exactly where you were always meant to be.

Your senses soften as you drift, spinning slowly in the stillness, mesmerized by the way your hair floats and dances around your face. A soft laugh breaks through your reverie. You turn to find Jayce, his hands deftly flicking a cog through the energy, vanishing and reappearing before Viktor in a blur of motion. And oh, it’s beautiful—they’re beautiful. Their smiles are like twin stars, bright enough to rival the very light that surrounds you. You laugh with them as Viktor passes the cog to you, your fingers brushing against its cool surface, flipping it in the air to watch it glide, weightless, past you.

But then, like a shadow crossing the sun, your gaze lands on the doorway. The joy you feel remains untouched by the figures standing there—several enforcers, all with stunned expressions. The Yordle pushes past them, his posture tight with frustration. He’s speaking, but all you catch is a faint, exasperated, “Will you please stop hovering?”

Viktor’s voice rings out through the muffled energy, its sharp edge almost playful: “I’m not sure how to do that, sir!” Even if he could, you imagine he wouldn’t want to.

The Yordle’s voice cracks with desperation, and there’s a weariness to it that strikes you. “This is not what Piltover's future looks like, my dears.” It’s as if he knows—deep down—that there’s no undoing what has been set in motion.

The warm, golden glow pulses once more, wrapping around the soft blue energy, swirling together like the very fabric of the universe. It’s the sensation of space itself—endless, infinite—and the stars shimmer so close you could reach out and touch them. “That is for the Council to decide,” a soft, melodic voice rises, and it carries with it the weight of something momentous. “Perhaps it’s time for the era of magic.”

“Uh—Hextech,” Jayce interrupts, his tone laced with a quiet but resolute certainty. He looks down at the woman, his gaze steady. “For the era of Hextech.”

[tolkienocweek]

Tolkien OC Week

A fandom event for OCs and underdeveloped characters in Tolkien's world!

This event celebrates both characters of Tolkien's world and our own characters that need more love, by creating and reblogging all kind of fanworks, like fanfiction, fanart, fanvideos, fancrafts, headcanons, playlists, edits, moodboards etc.

The event is modded by @yellow-faerie, @elamarth-calmagol and @stormxpadme and will take place between 25th August - 31st August 2024 for the fourth year running.

NSFW text entries are allowed and we’ll tag them accordingly when we reblog them, but please put them behind a “read more”.

We'll also be tracking the tag #tolkienocweek during this week!

*******************************************

Event schedule for 2024:

Day 1 (25th August): World Building

Create a fanwork about an original character, and use them as a jumping off point for worldbuilding. Share a dwarf from the far side of Rhun, consider the existence of an Aina before the creation of Arda, explore Rivendell from the point of view of an outsider, or tell us about the underground punk subculture of Gondolin.

Day 2 (26th August): Canon-OC Relationships

This year, it’s not just about romance. Today, explore a relationship between your OC and a canon character. Your character could be a lover or spouse of someone canonical, lf course, but they could also be a friend, sibling, teacher, servant, fan, or even rival!

Day 3 (27th August): Alternate Universes

Share an OC who isn’t canon compliant at all. Maybe you want to add a fourteenth member of Thorin’s company or give a reborn Celebrimbor children with a surviving and reformed Sauron. Or, maybe you want to do a crossover with your Star Wars OC or let your self-insert narrate a coffee shop AU. Go wild!

Day 4 (28th August): Gaps and Ghosts

Create a fanwork based upon a character that Tolkien either thought up and abandoned, such as Odo Took oe the characters of The New Shadow. Or, create someone he missed creating in the first place, like… um… just about anyone’s mother.

Day 5 (29th August): Non-Humanoid Characters

Middle Earth isn't just elves, Men, hobbits, and dwarves. Today, share a character who is something different entirely: an animal, a dragon, a Maia who doesn't take humanoid form, an ent or huron, or a creature of your own invention.

Day 6 (30th August): Background Characters

This prompt is all about people who are in the background of the action: the low-ranking soldiers, the servants, and the ordinary people living in extraordinary times. Or maybe you want someone who isn't so ordinary, like an advisor in the Council of Elrond who never made it onto the page, or one of the Maiar who sank the Feanorians on the stolen boats. Show us their view of the action!

Day 7 (31st August): Freeform

Did we miss something? Do you have an OC that doesn’t fit into any day, or did you want to do a second fanwork for one of the days? Today, create and share whatever you want, as long as it has to do with original or abandoned characters!

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Since we want to celebrate creations about neglected characters all year long, the mods will occasionally reblog posts and fancreations about OCs and underdeveloped characters. If you would like to see your post on our blog, you're very welcome to tag tolkienocweek. Since tumblr's tagging system is often being faulty, don't hesitate to message us, too!

We are looking forward to see and share all the awesome work you come up with!

[deancasbigbang]

Title: This Impossible Happiness

Author: FriendofCarlotta

Artist: sidewinder

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas

Length: 50467

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Alternate Universes, Multiple Versions of Dean and Cas, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Post The Winchesters 1x13, Second Chances, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Mutual Pining

Posting Date: October 22, 2024

Summary: In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend. In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep. Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

Excerpt: The motel is where the memory of Castiel’s father is still alive, in the memorabilia stuffed tightly into Carver Edlund’s Chamber of Horrors — the roadside attraction housed in the small building next door to the Scenic View. It’s nothing but a single room stuffed full of objects that belonged to his father, along with a few life-size recreations of monsters from his books. But it still attracts visitors from time to time, thanks to a single billboard on the interstate.    The motel is also where Castiel’s memories of a different man live. And, though Castiel doesn’t like to admit it to himself, those are the memories he clings to the hardest.    The summer Castiel turned twenty-five — nearly five years ago now — a drifter washed up at the Scenic View. He’d been traveling the country doing odd jobs for over a year, and he happened to be a big fan of Carver Edlund’s novels.    Even all these years later, whenever Castiel dusts the display of his father’s old typewriter inside the Chamber of Horrors, he can still hear Dean exclaim over it, his voice bright and sugar-sweet with delight. Whenever Castiel freshens the paint on the monster replicas, he can still see the childlike glee on Dean’s face when Castiel encouraged him to touch the scarred face of Hatchet Man or the Wraith’s wicked spike.    The ghost of Dean’s memory is why Castiel always lingers a little longer than he needs to over the daily cleaning and upkeep of the Chamber of Horrors. It’s also why he saves one of the motel rooms for last — after both the Chamber and all the other rooms have been seen to.    Room 8 was Dean’s room. It was here that the two of them became intimate for the first time, on the fourth night of Dean’s stay. As Castiel approaches the door, he pauses — as he always does — with his hand on the doorknob. He remembers how Dean was still nearly a stranger then. A mysterious being of light and laughter who’d come into Castiel’s drab, dreary life to make him forget all about how he’d left college to care for his father through the long illness that eventually took his life.    Castiel had wanted him so very much. Every time Dean glanced at him from under his eyelashes or made a flirtation so subtle that it could plausibly be denied, Castiel refused to let himself respond, to believe that someone so lovely could ever want him. And yet, Dean must have read Castiel’s yearning in his eyes, because on that fourth night, shy glances and blushing remarks became an arm slung over his shoulder and the tip of a nose, nudging bashfully against Castiel’s stubbled cheek.   It’s pathetic how well Castiel still remembers the details of that night and every night that followed. It’s even more pathetic how, every time Castiel turns the knob of Room 8, he half-hopes to find Dean waiting for him inside, sprawled decadent and freckled atop the covers.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths

content: leo valdez x roman! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)

╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly

librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣

leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?

okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)

"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.

"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.

"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."

they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."

this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.

the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"

"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.

nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.

(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)

leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.

tonight was one of those times.

he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?

as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.

today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-

his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.

the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.

percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?

"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"

"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.

"i don't care! shoo!"

leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.

"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?

"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"

leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!

he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.

"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.

jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."

leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."

"canoodle?"

"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"

the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."

oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"

"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."

you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."

something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.

you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.

"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!

"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."

"because-"

"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."

her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.

"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"

"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.

she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."

"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"

"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.

that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"

oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)

you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!

your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.

you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.

leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!

"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."

finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.

the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"

"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.

leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"

"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.

you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-

a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.

"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.

"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.

"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."

unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"

so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.

"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.

"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."

"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?

that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.

"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."

you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.

"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.

aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.

you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."

"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.

well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."

you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.

"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.

leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"

you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."

the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."

eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.

maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.

you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.

it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.

as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."

"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"

you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.

"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.

"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"

the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.

and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.

"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.

leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.

and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)

"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"

"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"

"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"

"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 2

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 1

---

You watched as Ellie stomped her way into the single bedroom by the kitchen, rather than the very girly one upstairs she had used the last time, slamming the door behind her. Joel looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, stopping in the hallway, opening a door, before walking on, opening another door and closing it behind him. You heard some shuffling and the thud of a backpack being thrown on the floor before a small squeak of a bed followed. By the time you dragged your own feet upstairs, there was no sound to be heard from the room across from the only open door on the second floor landing.

He had taken the master. You guessed this meant this was your room then. The girly bedroom, along with the ensuite that was attached. You closed the door behind you and threw yourself on the dusty bed. The house seemed different now, compared to the first time you stepped in it months before. You remembered wishing you could stay; press the restart button on your life.

But now…

**********

The first couple of weeks on the road was actually okay. Ellie was the definition of a curious child – having grown up in the QZ orphanage and then sheltered behind the walls of the FEDRA school. Every single thing, things that you didn’t even think were odd or out of the ordinary were ‘awesome’ or ‘cool’ to her. You had been worried that things would be awkward, but there was no such thing when Ellie was around. So many questions. So many wonderment. She asked you about your life before the outbreak, asked how old you were, your family, what exactly a secretary did, Bill and Frank, your brothers, if you had a boyfriend, the questions were endless.

Joel drove and drove. Didn’t speak unless Ellie asked him a direct question. You didn’t even know if he listened. He got flustered when Ellie found Bill’s… special magazine, begging her to get rid of it. You smiled to yourself when you saw the magazine, one of the ones that distracted Bill so much during a supply run that the two of you narrowly escaped with your lives intact, way in the early days, when it was just the two of you. You remembered him trying to hide them from you, blubbering that he got them for you when they fell out of his shirt.

Sure Bill, the men on men magazine was for your private entertainment. He looked panicked at your implication. You just rolled your eyes and told him it’s not like you had anyone to snitch to, Bill.

When Ellie fell asleep, he asked what you were smiling about, shocking the living crap out of you that he actually spoke to you, using words that didn’t involve needing to stop to refuel, change drivers or have a bathroom break. When you told him about it, he actually let out a small huff of a laugh, making you startle.

“What?” he asked, “I laugh.”

You shrugged, “All evidence so far to the contrary.”

You couldn’t say for sure, having your head turned towards the views outside your open window, but you thought you saw his head turn and looked at you for a while when you said that. Of course, when you turned, his eyes were dead straight on the road, his face serious again, all traces of that tiny laugh gone.

Meals were basically canned foods and MREs – Bill had found a stash and insisted they be saved for last, should it come to that. Ellie was shocked at how much food a soldier was given for one meal, the three of you basically flat out on your backs after sharing one. Frankly, you were more shocked that none of you got sick from the twenty years old food, but you supposed those years had somehow strengthened your stomach linings with steel.

Every now and again, you saw a different side of Joel, particularly when it came to Ellie. When she fell asleep in her sleeping bag, he would lay a folded blanket under her head, tightening the bag around her to make sure she wasn’t cold. When she went for a bathroom break, he stood guard with his back towards her, standing way too close for the teenager’s liking, humming to himself when she told him to, so he couldn’t hear her do her business. Whenever he thought he heard or saw something, his body automatically shielded hers. Even the way he reacted to her seeing the less than PG pictures in those magazines gave you a glimpse of the Joel before. The single parent Joel. The one with the teenage daughter.

With you, though, he was a different person altogether.

You were cleaning yourself in a stream when you stopped to make camp, using a small towel to cleanse your body without taking anything off. You had gone down as Ellie and Joel were setting up camp, intending to get water for the night. The bubbling and running of rushing waters had muffled the surroundings, overwhelming your senses. You thought, why waste the water you were bringing up to the camp when you could just clean first and bring more water for the two of them to use? You were dipping your head in the water when you heard a scuffle, immediately getting your gun, only to see Joel sliding a knife across a man’s throat, another already dead from what seemed to be a stab wound to the chest, Ellie standing by the trees with a gun in her hands, her back to the both of you, checking for other threats.

He barked at you to get back to the camp with Ellie, grabbing the gun from her, quickly rinsing his knife and parts of his body with water from the stream. He put the fire out, grabbing everything from the camp and practically tossed you and Ellie back into the car and driving off. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was angry at you. Ellie didn’t say a word, realizing that this was not the time for one of her puns.

You didn’t dare speak. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so strongly you could hear his skin stretch. His jaw was clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grind. His breathing was so heavy, his eyes focused on the darkening road ahead. No one spoke for what felt like hours. You got out of the car when he stopped every hour to refuel, gun at the ready, as he quickly poured gasoline into the truck, very quickly jumping back into the car once he was done.

During the last refuel, Ellie whispered to you through the slightly cracked window, telling you she was hungry. You dug your hand in the bed and got her some of the energy bars you made, handing them to her and shoving a few more in your pocket, taking a bottle of water with you back inside when Joel dumped the fuel can back in the truck bed.

You took an energy bar out of your pocket after a few minutes of driving, peeling the baking paper off the sticky meal and broke it into two pieces, handing one half to him as he drove. He ignored you, pointedly turning his body the other way, driving with only his right hand.

“Joel don’t be stupid. I know you’re mad at me, but you hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Eat it. You can yell at me later. But eat, Goddamned it, we don’t need you passing out while driving,” you snarked at him, annoyed that he was being so egotistical to prove a point.

His head snapped towards you, his eyes sharp, his nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m mad at you? ‘Mad’ doesn’t begin to explain what I’m feeling Elena! What the fuck were you thinking? You didn’t tell us you were going to the stream. You were so distracted you weren’t watching your surroundings. Those people were not infected, Elena, they were men. Do you have any idea what they could’ve done to you if Ellie hadn’t noticed you were gone?”

“I was getting us some water, Joel, I just wanted to clean up a little bit. Is that so wrong?”

“None of us smell like lavender, in case you haven’t noticed, but is that worth the risk sneaking off without telling us? They could’ve killed you, Elena, worse, they could’ve…” he stopped talking, turning his eyes back on the road, taking a deep, annoyed breath, eyes closing momentarily, a shiver visible on his body as he controlled his anger at you.

“I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again. You can leave me at the next camp if you feel I put you two in danger, but please, Joel, eat something.”

He ignored you, but you swore you could see his eyes flashed with something in the darkness at your words. There was a few seconds of complete silence in the car, save for the sounds of the engine as he sped through the night.

A loud, crunching noise broke that silence, both you and Joel jumping a bit at the suddenness of it all.

“Sorry,” Ellie mumbled through crunches. “I’m so hungry.”

You were still holding the half of the energy bar out to him, your other hand feeding your half to yourself.

“Joel don’t be stupid. Eat the fucking food,” Ellie sighed out loud.

You could see Joel’s resolve waver, snatching the bar out of your hand and eating it, his face still dark with anger. You finished your half before breaking the other one in half and handing one part to him, which he took. You passed the water bottle around for the three of you to drink before settling in your seat, telling Joel now he could seethe at you in peace. You won’t bother him again.

You fell asleep sometime later, your sleep only lightly disturbed by what was obviously a dream – one where a soft-faced Joel was caressing your face lightly and wrapping a blanket around your body. You woke up with the car in the bushes, Joel sleeping soundly in the driver’s seat, hugging his jacket close to his body, Ellie in the back seat with a blanket of her own. You placed the blanket you didn’t remember putting on yourself on Joel, before quietly leaving to boil some water for his coffee using one of Bill’s camping stove, a pistol in one hand at all times. You stayed right by your door, not wanting Joel to scream at you again. You filled the thermos for him, before taking a cup for yourself. You made breakfast next, pouring the instant porridge mixtures you and Frank made into the small pot enough for the three of you to eat while driving, dividing the contents into thermal mugs before packing the stove away so you could leave as soon as possible.

The sun was nearly up, and you were bursting for a pee. So you went to the back of the truck to cop a squat, pistol still out just in case. You felt the truck sway, before the door was wrenched open, Joel’s heavy footsteps and breathing followed.

“I’m right here, Joel, don’t come back here, I’m peeing.”

He cleared his throat, and you could hear his feet turn, but he didn’t go back into the car.

“What did we talk about last night? Why didn’t you wake me? It’s not safe, I told you that.”

You pulled your pants back up, Joel standing by the driver’s door, facing away from you. Funny enough, without seeing his face, you could see his grumpy expression, thunder-filled, annoyed at you. Again. You rolled your eyes and went to wake Ellie, telling her to go pee so you could get moving.

Ellie staggered out and went into the bushes next to the car, while you got your gun, going to the bed of the truck to watch out for threats for Ellie, telling him his coffee was in the thermos, and their breakfast was on your seat. He stood there, just staring at you, not that you noticed.

“You should do your business too, we should move soon. I’ll keep watch,” you told him.

He didn’t move until Ellie came back. He kept quiet after that, grumbling to himself when you insisted on driving, but let you drive, he and Ellie quietly eating their breakfast as you drove along.

He whisper-yelled at you when you got into hiding after the whole initial incident at Kansas City happened. You came out of hiding to help when he got overwhelmed trying to defend Ellie alone. He had insisted that you and Ellie go into hiding, but it quickly became clear that he was losing. So you came out to help him, sure that Ellie would be safe where she was. Another guy surprised you, and although you managed to take care of him yourself, Ellie was the one who shot the guy overpowering Joel when your gun got kicked out of your hands. Joel finished the guy himself but was far too angry at you for leaving Ellie alone to talk to you after.

Sure Joel, let yourself get killed, why don’t you? Cause obviously that would’ve been the better choice. The two of you were his responsibility, he argued. He needed the two of you to be safe. And how could he protect the two of you if he was dead, you fired back, to which he just glared at you before huffing an exasperated breath and walking ahead to check on Ellie.

He kept telling Ellie she was too young to see something like that, to do something like that. The two of them went to a corner and whispered among themselves, Joel giving in and letting her have a gun all to herself. He spent the rest of the day ignoring you, and you, him. Ellie went back and forth between the two of you, trying hard to keep both the adults who were supposed to keep her safe from killing each other.

When Henry and Sam joined the three of you, Joel kept with Henry, and Ellie with Sam, and for a while, Joel seemed happy to see Ellie with someone her own age group. You could tell then, he was starting to care a lot for her. As was your lot in life, you stayed behind them, the tagalong, just listening in on their conversations, too used to being pointedly ignored by Joel by this point. Heck, being ignored by him was a hell of a lot better than being yelled at.

Despite everything, the two of you seemed to work well together when the army of infected attacked, you helped make sure Ellie was alright on the ground, being there with her, weaving and fighting through them all, making sure she was alright, Joel protecting her from his spot, shooting the infected you couldn’t see as you fought others off her.

That night, Joel asked Henry and Sam to join the three of you, and Henry happily agreed.

You woke up before them the next morning, going out to scavenge for anything you could find for the road, now that there were more of you to feed. You came running back when you heard gunshots, opening the door to a panicked Joel pointing a gun at you, immediately lowering it when he realized who it was, Henry and Sam dead on the floor. Ellie shook uncontrollably when you held her tight, stammering the events of what happened to you and Joel, who was at a loss for words.

She was quiet for days after that, staying close to the both of you, doing what she was told without any arguments. And all the while, Joel remained quiet with you, only speaking when necessary. He spoke to Ellie, though, telling her about his dreams to have a sheep farm, and her about wanting to be an astronaut.

With you, Ellie was more interested in the books you had read, movies you had watched. You were reading your very tattered copy of the Lord of the Rings, the only book you chose to bring with you from home. Your brother Will used to read it to you growing up, and you waited eagerly for the movies to come out, you told her. Such a shame the outbreak happened before the third movie was released, it would’ve been a great movie, you thought. If only cordyceps were generous enough to delay their plans to take over the world another three months.

You only had the first book with you, choosing to leave the other two back home – they were not exactly travel sized. You would do anything to have them back, though, you told her. They were your favourite books, mainly due to the memories it brought.

You told her about the Chronicles of Narnia, shocked that she had never heard of Aslan. You told her you would look for the books, she simply must read them. 

She slept close to you at night after the incident with Henry and Sam, clutching onto your jacket while at it. You heard her mumble Sam’s name in her sleep a few times, sometimes a Riley, other times Tess. Every now and again, you thought you could see Joel looking at the two of you. When it was your turn to stand watch, you often caught him lying awake with his eyes on you, closing them only when he knew you caught him watching. You wondered if he still thought you were going to harm the teenager, slightly offended at the thought. He had known you for 15 years, and still, he didn’t trust you enough to have his and Ellie’s back. You chose to ignore him, not wanting to worry Ellie about it with more bickering.

You looked at his sleeping form one more time, and of course, his eyes were opened and on you, his lips twitching and you could just see him take a deep breath before settling his head further into his backpack, closing his eyes again.

**********

When you got to Jackson that first time, Tommy greeted you enthusiastically, finally meeting you after hearing about you from Tess all this while. He had never visited, Bill was far too weary to have two men visit – he wasn’t even happy Joel was privy to the place at all, even after 15 years. Maria took you to the house across the street from theirs, showing you around. Three bedrooms on the second floor – two with bathrooms attached, one bathroom at the end of the corridor. It was obvious the owners had a girl, the bedroom painfully girly. One single bedroom was on the first floor, a bathroom right next to it. There was a garage, a nice-sized garden too. Whoever lived here had money.

While she had you alone, she kept asking you if Joel was making you stay with him, if he was coercing you somehow, if you were being held against your will. She seemed to have a certain… opinion of him, telling you of the stories she’d heard from Tommy about her brother-in-law. She tried to ‘get you to see reason’, but you told her she was lucky if she hadn’t had to do what they had to do to survive, and if she was thankful to have found Tommy, maybe she shouldn’t judge the man responsible for him being alive. He travelled all this way to find Tommy, convinced that he needed rescuing. And while you were glad that he didn’t, you had no doubt that Joel would’ve done anything, including giving up his own life to keep Tommy safe.

She seemed to back down after that, staring at you a while, deciding whether or not she liked you. You didn’t know if she did, but she seemed to let her judgment of Joel go while she was with you. She told you where you could find Joel, the town bar, called the Tipsy Bison, taking you to the back door. You needed to ask him the plan for the next day. You were about to go in when you heard Tommy say your name.

“So, that’s Elena, huh?”

You didn’t hear Joel answer, but whatever he did seemed to confirm it with Tommy.

“I see what Tess meant. She’s real pretty. Are you two… uh…”

“Don’t be stupid Tommy. What would I do with someone like her?”

“Hey… I was just asking…”

“Well don’t.”

You turned around and left as quietly as you could.

God. Even with the way he ignored you throughout the journey here, barked at you when you didn’t do things to his liking, drew a much deeper breath than he needed to when he got impatient with you, you couldn’t deny – you were still crushing hard on him. You even wondered, after the few instances that he let out what passed as a laugh with you, if he would ever feel the same way for you one day.

Well… there you go. You didn’t have to wonder anymore. You had your answer. You heard him, loud and clear. The idea of him being with you was a stupid one. You heard him say so yourself.

Right. Of course it was.

You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself a little at your own stupidity. Get your head out of your ass, Elena. The man closed his heart when his daughter died, and now, his partner of more than 15 years died. What were the odds that he would ever look at you as anything other than Bill and Frank’s neighbour?

You were here because he didn’t want the responsibility of leaving you alone to die. And he needed a woman to help out with Ellie. That’s all.

And now, you had arrived at this place. Maybe you could come back here once the whole thing with Ellie was done. Start over. Make friends. Get a job. Live out your life. Have a purpose again.

You went back to the house, running into a freshly showered and dressed Ellie who was going to Maria’s. You were bone tired, so you decided you were going to take a nice, hot shower and rest. Power up for tomorrow. You went into the master bedroom. Maria had left you some clothes to change into. She must’ve had the same idea as Tommy, seeing as she left the clothes for him next to yours on the bed. Your heart ached a little at the insinuation, given what you just heard, but hey, you repressed this for 15 years, you could do that a little longer; until you got over this stupid feeling you had.

As much as you had decided to try and get your crush on Joel over and done with, you couldn’t help but weep a little in the shower. 15 years you had a crush on this man. 15 years you cried every time he left, knowing that he would never want you. He had Tess, who was nothing short of wonderful. And he didn’t even acknowledge her as his girlfriend. Bill told you he referred to her as his. That’s all. His. The word girlfriend didn’t even make it out of his lips. 15 years he ignored you, so why the fuck would that change now? You must be some kind of stupid for still crushing on him.

Enough. Stop. Delete. Restart. Reset.

You wrapped the towel around your chest and stepped out into the room, only to find Joel standing next to the bed, staring down at the clothes Maria left for him. He stared at you for a second, before seemingly realizing it was you standing there in a towel, quickly turning around, grabbing the clothes and leaving, muttering a gruff apology as he did so, going into the bathroom in the corridor instead, slamming its door behind him. You rushed over to shut the bedroom door, shaking your head to get the stupid fantasy you used to have about him out of your head. The fantasy that he would tear the towel off your body and ravage you. Now that you knew what he really thought of you, you needed to grow the fuck up and get that out of your stupid, vapid brain.

You got dressed and threw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes, willing the tears not to fall again. Enough, Elena, enough.

But your mind betrayed you. Your nap was filled with dreams of you, Ellie and Joel living in this house, him sharing the bed with you. A family. A real one. With neighbours and everything. You woke up in the dark, disappointed in yourself. It’s okay, you coaxed your heart. 15 years was a long time. It’ll take some time, but you will get over him. You just needed some time.

You’ll finish your mission, then come back, restart.

And you will get over this stupid crush on Joel Miller, the man who thought the idea of you and him ever being together was stupid.

**********

That night, as you were repacking your pack, you heard Joel and Ellie yell at each other from the room across from yours. Apparently, he had asked Tommy to take her to the Fireflies instead, insisting that he would do a better job. Ellie had protested, understandably. She didn’t know Tommy from Adam.

And then, you heard her mention Sarah.

Shit.

Joel stormed out after that, slamming the door across from yours. You heard Ellie sob. You waited a while before going to her, holding her close as she cried her heart out, telling her that he was just going through some stuff. He will see sense. Let’s wait until tomorrow, okay?

“Are you going to leave me too?” she asked, not looking at you.

“Never.”

The next morning, Tommy came to get Ellie. You stepped out too, telling him he’s not taking her alone. He nodded, leading the way to the stable. Once there, Joel was waiting, telling Ellie he was giving her a choice. Ellie didn’t hesitate, immediately dumping the bag of supplies into his arms, going to the horse he was about to steal.

As you were saddling the mare Tommy had lent to you, Joel came over, cleared his throat and gruffly asked if you knew how to ride. You grew up in the suburbs, you told him. You took horse riding lessons. It’s been a while, but you knew what you were doing. You promised Ellie you wouldn’t leave her, so you won’t. If he’s worried you’ll slow them down, feel free to leave you by the roadside, you won’t hold it against him, you said, pulling on your horse’s rein and walking out, leaving him standing there alone before he could say anything back.

You remained quiet with Joel throughout your journey, just standing by looking out for threats whenever you stopped. Ellie seemed to have forgiven him rather quickly, laughing and joking with him as he taught her how to shoot. The journey was not as long, being on horseback, and those two merrily chit chatted throughout. Once you got to the university, though, all chatter stopped.

For a place that was supposedly a port for the Fireflies, it was quiet. Far too quiet. Eerily so, despite the monkeys that roamed. And of course, upon finding the information you needed, your luck ran out.

You will never forget the way your head went cold when you saw the piece of broken bat in his torso. You wanted to yell at him to leave it in, but it was as if all the clamping up you were so used to practicing around him overpowered you. You watched helplessly as he pulled it out, blood gushing from the wound. You helped him up onto his horse with Ellie, and told her to ride, turning around to shoot as many as the men that came running after you, cursing yourself when two managed to escape.

When you turned around again, Ellie and Joel were way ahead of you, Ellie screaming for you to come along. You caught up to them, riding hard until the horses were sweating before slowing down when you came to some housing area. You let Ellie and Joel ride in front of you, looking around, gun at the ready, just in case anyone or anything jumped out at the three of you. As you were looking behind you, you heard a loud thud, turning around to see Joel on the ground, his face ashen.

You needed to get him out of there. You told a teary Ellie to get her gun out, going into the nearest house, finding an old mattress, dragging it out as fast as you could, Ellie coming to help you as soon as she saw you. The two of you rolled him onto the mattress, tying it to his horse before slowly riding into the most discreet house you could find, practically dragging his body down into the basement before going back to cover your tracks before bringing the horses in and closing the garage door. You went back into the house to Ellie scrambling around, looking for something to help Joel out with, tearily telling you he told her to leave him there and go back to Jackson. She found a spool of thread, a needle stuck to it.

You told her to calm down and follow you back down to the basement. You took out the small first aid kit you had with you, courtesy of your neighbour Bill. You cleaned his wound as best as you could with what little you had before wiping the needle with an alcohol swab, stitching him up as best as you could as he silently screamed from the pain, holding on to Ellie’s jacket for dear life. This won’t help much, you thought. He needed antibiotics. You didn’t have any. But this’ll have to do for now. You will go out and find some once he’s settled. Please be a skin wound. Please don’t bleed internally. Please don’t die, Joel. Please don’t die.

After stitching him up, you were relieved to find that he was no longer bleeding. He needed rest. You were not worried about hydration, there was plenty of snow on the ground. You needed to hunt. The rations won’t be enough if he had to recuperate and survive. He needed the calories to heal. Think, Elena, think.

You couldn’t sleep that night, or the night after that, or the night after that, watching him like a hawk, Ellie sharing the mattress with him to keep themselves warm. Every now and again, he opened his eyes, watching you as you sat right next to him, worry written all over your face. It was never for long, though. His eyes would close again as soon as you noticed he was awake.

Hmph, even in this condition, he didn’t trust you enough to have his and Ellie’s backs to properly rest.

The next day, you told Ellie to watch him as you went around scavenging the nearby houses for medicine. It was all in vain, and you knew it as soon as you walked into each and every one of them. You had done enough scavenging to know the potentials a new location held. Food and medicine were always the first to go. Clothing and blankets next. Especially in areas as cold as this. You did gun down a rabbit, boiling it in a house a few streets over to avoid detection before bringing the meat back to Ellie and Joel.

The third morning you were there, his temperature skyrocketed. His wound, as you feared, was infected. You told Ellie he needed penicillin. Antibiotics. You were trying to remain calm, but the lack of sleep and the avalanche of worry was getting to you. Joel was a constant in your life after the outbreak, despite his indifference to you. You couldn’t let him die. Not like this. You wet some rags with snow and placed them on his head, trying to get his temperature down. You gave him some 20 year-old Tylenol from your kit, hoping they would help, but with the infection still raging, all they did was reduce his temperature for an hour or so, before he was shivering again. At one point, he shivered so badly, groaning and whimpering in pain, you laid next to him and covered part of his body with your own, hoping to stop his shivering at the very least, not daring to start a fire to keep him warm in case it alerted others to your location.

With how tired you were, you fell asleep, your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, desperately trying to keep him warm. You dreamt that he woke up and wrapped his arms around you, caressing your hair as he did so. You woke up almost instantly after that, Joel still asleep. It’s strange, you thought. Your body felt the remnants of his dream hug and caresses. Wow, you must’ve been really tired if a dream seemed that real to you.

You didn’t hunt the day before, snowfall too heavy for you to go out. Your rations were gone, both you and Ellie surrendering your portions to Joel, hoping that they would help him fight the infection. You turned to pick up your gun, wanting to go hunting.

But your gun was gone.

So was Ellie.

Shit. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

You couldn’t leave Joel alone. How long had she been gone? How long were you asleep? Which way did she go? You went outside, realizing that she had taken one of the horses. You followed the hoof prints to what was the main road, seeing how far she had gone, knowing you couldn’t possibly catch up to her in time, not without leaving Joel in a vulnerable state.

So you went back inside, worry clouding your head, and waited.

And waited, and waited, and waited.

You wanted to scream at her when she came back, but she excitedly told you she got the penicillin, handing them to you, dropping the leg of deer she was carrying. All you could see was the antibiotic, giving Joel the shot he needed, telling Ellie with a stern voice to stay with him, to never disappear on you like that again. She reasoned that you were too tired to go out, so she did it for you. You were asleep, and you needed rest too. Let her do what she could.

All you wanted to do was knock some sense into her, what if she was followed? What if she was attacked? What if she was taken? Killed? A slew of horrible imageries invaded your mind, before abruptly stopping, looking her in the eyes.

Where did she get the penicillin?

She was silent for a beat, but ultimately told you about the guys she ran into after killing the deer, the ones who were looking for what could only be described as the three of you. You wanted to knock her head into the wall, but she told you it was snowing again, and the hoof prints would be covered. She went a ways away, she said, you should be okay for a few more days.

In truth, you were devastated. You had let two of the men escape. They alerted their camp, and now, the men were looking for the three of you. And Ellie just led them back here.

It’s not like you could do anything. Joel was weakened. You now have food, and Joel received his first dose of penicillin. Make the best out of a horrible situation. You sliced the deer meat into thin slices, taking some a few houses over and roasted them before stripping them down into threads to make it easier for Joel to eat.

After a few more dosages, Joel’s fever receded. The wound was drying. Not fully, but enough to give you and Ellie hope. The whole time, you were uneasy. You knew those men would track her down. You knew they were coming. You kept telling yourself to think on the brighter side, but you couldn’t.

You were a few houses over, boiling some of the meat when you heard hooves. You put the fire out and ran back, only to see only to see one of the horses gone again.

Ellie! You wanted to yell but saw someone sneaking over. You ran inside, waking Joel up, dragging him into hiding. Ellie, he whispered, she had gone to divert the men, he told you, showing you the knife she had given him. Let’s get you hidden first and I’ll go find Ellie, you told him, guiding him behind one of the nooks in the basement.

There was a flash of something in his eyes, but you had no time to decipher anything. The man you saw was slowly making his way downstairs. You put yourself in front of Joel, your own knife out, hoping to God this man was really as malnourished as he looked, and that you had the chance to overpower him, even if it was only to stab him. You knew it was a vain effort, but you needed Joel to be okay. He could protect Ellie better than you ever could. So if you could weaken this man before Joel could come in to help, it would be better for him.

You stabbed the man in the kidney when he walked past, pulling the knife out to stab him again, but he had turned and came at you, snarling. You managed to stab him one more time in the stomach before he swungthe butt of his rifle to your head, and then all was dark.

**********

When you woke up, your head was throbbing. You were still in the basement, only you were on the mattress Joel was lying on the past few days, a blanket wrapped around your body. No one else was there. Not Joel, not even the man. Certainly not Ellie. You sat up, disoriented for a bit, slowly getting up to a standing position. Your gun was next to you, so was the knife you used. Your pack under your head. You gathered everything, slowly walking up the stairs, trying to get your bearings. There was no one in the house, and when you went out to the garage, none of the horses were there. It was hours after you blacked out, you realized. It was nearly dark, and it was morning when you went to boil the meat.

There was something sticky on your face. You swiped your hand on it, realizing you had blood all over. You went to the nearest car, swiped the snow and dirt off the side view mirror and looked. There were bloody handprints on both sides of your face, and a massive bruise on your forehead. Right. The guy had hit you on the head with a gun. Whose bloody handprints were those? And why weren’t you dead? Where’re Joel and Ellie?

You sat on the snowy ground, taking some snow and cleaning your face off the blood, icing that bump on your forehead, gathering your thoughts. Once you calmed down, you noticed a massive lump of clothing by the garage. It was the man. Dead.

It was then you realized what happened.

Joel went after Ellie.

He had left you behind. Injured and alone.

---

Part 3

[snek-panini]

As promised, I've got more books to share and they are all fic binds. Have a look at this new one:

This is Among the Stacks by MeinirRhos, and it's one of the few post-s2 Good Omens fics that I've liked enough to bind. It's canon-compliant and full of pining, fluff, angst, and a memory loss plot and I knew before even finishing it that I wanted it on my physical shelves.

I kept it pretty simple on the outside, with Library Summit book cloth and white HTV for the title. Large parts of the fic have to do with libraries and library books, so I thought it would be fun to make it look like a library rebind, something that looks innocuous and blends in to the shelves but it's actually going to be your new fave once you open it up and start reading. I wanted very badly to have the titles hand-written in embossing inks but I couldn't get a clean enough line with the textured cloth, so this handwriting font saved the day.

More photos under the cut; I'm really proud of the typeset for this one!

Top view, with pre-made end bands and a ribbon bookmark. Going with the library rebind aesthetic, I didn't think it ought to have handmade end bands, so these were perfect. Honestly I'm not sure the ribbon bookmark fits the theme, but you can pry that from my cold dead hands. All my books have them and I love them too much to leave it out. The endpapers are cream-colored cardstock, and while they look plain they feel nice. I tried out a new-to-me corner style, the library corner, where you don't trim off the excess material at the turn-in. It's supposed to be more durable than other styles and is common in rebinds. Library Summit is stiffer than most of the other book cloth I've worked with, so it was a little challenging to get it to lay flat while drying, and it's a bit bulkier than I'm used to, but it's perfect for the theming. Unrelatedly, it also holds a hinge crease really well.

Title page. I could not be more pleased with this title page design. I showed it to my husband after I finished the text block but before I had the cover on it, and he didn't realize at first that it was one of mine. I have cracked the code of professional title pages. The graphics were, at the time I put this together, available for free on rawpixel. I'm in love with it. It is sexy as hell and it will never be equaled.

Couple more interiors. The chapter header font is called Book Ends and I found it on DaFont. You add in the little plants and stuff with symbols. I haven't done much with custom fonts until this batch of fics, and in some of the others I've got in the pipeline I went a little nuts with them, but I think this one's my favorite for how well it fits the story. I also started experimenting with formatting text messages in this fic, and I'm very pleased with how those came out as well. The Renegade Bindery discord has resources on this kind of formatting, so check them out if you haven't already. I'd never have gotten them so professional-looking otherwise.

And that's it for this bind! I started working on it back in April and I'm thrilled to finally be able to show off the finished product. Thanks @rhosmeinir (Hi! It's Amberfly from Ao3!) for giving me permission to bind it nearly six months ago.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I feel like being angsty. And since you mentioned crate training earlier, how do you think that went with Sephiroth when he was growing up before Rhadore? I'd imagine that Hojo did a number on him back when he was still young and vulnerable. But would Hojo risk the health and safety of what is essentially the most endangered species on Gaia just to be THAT much of an abusive asshole? There's only so much abject misery a small child can physically take. Was Hojo capable of showing mercy?

Hojo once said "Better to scar the mind than mar the flesh" when talking about Aerith, and that perfectly encapsulates how he treats the specimens he finds physically valuable, but wants to bend into submission. There's no way he didn't test Sephiroth's physical limits when he was still very young, learning exactly how far he could push him and to what extent.

This is what involved the significant experimentation and pain, which is where the medical abuse came in (if square makes this canon I'll combust).

I think Hojo tested Sephiroth's endurance and inflicted pain to conduct further tests, but never aimed for physical abuse that would "scar the flesh" because he viewed Sephiroth as something precious that he couldn't risk harming too much. But it's in the way a scientist views his most prized, successful experiment—one he owns, not in a fatherly way. What makes it tragic is how closely these two povs intertwine 🫠 ANYWAY.

I think he used of a form of psychological conditioning (abuse, in this case) similar to crate training, keeping everything within the boundaries of what Sephiroth could endure. He controlled aspects of Sephiroth's life, like how long he could go without food or water to test his limits. By confining Sephiroth and regulating every aspect of his existence—food, water, bathroom breaks, sleep, etc—Hojo could've easily bent Sephiroth into submission.

Food Control: Restricting access to food would lead to hunger, making him more compliant out of desperation. The tragic part is that Sephiroth's Jenova cells give him an incredible capacity to go without food, water, and sleep (see: Nibelheim). Just imagine how long that poor child must've gone without food/ water at a time.

Sleep Deprivation: Limiting sleep would cause fatigue, confusion, weaken his will and ability to resist, which would effectively make him easier to influence.

Isolation: Confining him to a small room deprived him of human interaction and likely exacerbated feelings of loneliness that were already there. This would cause him to become more helpless and eventually dependant on Hojo. DEPENDANT ON HOJO.

Bathroom Restrictions: I don't even want to touch this one, you get the picture. Think losing further control of his own body.

Positive reinforcement: I think I mentioned this in the other post, but in crate training, they give dogs a reward, something to encourage the behavior the trainer wants and to make compliance easy. This would work well on Sephiroth given how it's clear he deprived him of comfort, but I think what Hojo "rewarded" Sephiroth was the locket with Lucrecia's photo. Although now that I think about it, if this is the case, it's really unlikely he gave it to him out of nowhere. Sephiroth would have had to work for it.

I'm now even more depressed, thanks Alto 😂

Honestly even if Hojo was able of showing mercy to other people, children, his own child, he didn't see Sephiroth like that. He wasn't a son. He wasn't a person. He ingrained it into Sephiroth's head that he was nothing more than a weapon for Shinra, a lap dog as Genesis would later put it. And where do you put dogs? Right here:

[slowd1ving]

ACT I: FLOURISH ✦ . 　⁺ VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil Schoenheit and second place aren't supposed to be a thing. He's supposed to be the very embodiment of perfection, so why the hell is someone else's name usurping his crown on the Potions leader board? In which our starring actor cannot quench the flames of academic rivalry and resentment that consume him, nor can he fathom the enigma that you are. gn! scientist! reader warnings: contains nsfw but only later, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for book five, canon-compliant violence

anyways this fic is one of my personal favourites that I've written so please enjoy <3

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

BREACH THE IMMEASURABLE CHASM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

NEXT PART

Scene I: Overture . 　⁺

It starts on a particularly dull morning. Grey clouds adorn the grey skies; they are utterly devoid of joy and beauty. Rook would see beauty in this lifeless day, but Rook is not there to see it. Vil is. Standing here, in the dull hallway outside the Potionology classroom, is a perfectly miserable way to start off the school day.

Three heartbeats pass before Vil composes himself enough to straighten his posture. Three long heartbeats. Between each thump, he has to remind himself that he’s still the best in the Advanced Potions course. Of course he is. So what is this foreboding that’s chilling him to his very bones? He fights the urge to adjust his tie as he anxiously waits for the rankings of the top students to emerge onto the noticeboard facing him. It’s approximately two minutes before Crewel typically posts the monthly rankings, and ten minutes before he has to face the music by entering the classroom for said course. He’s still got time before hoards of clamorous students charge through the hallways.

One minute. He’s always been on top of this leaderboard, even after being transferred to the course as a freshmen where all his peers were at least a year older. His potions are always textbook perfection. Always. Something’s been weighing on his mind, though. Ever since last week’s assignment to brew a sleeping potion using only five ingredients, he’s had a very uncomfortable feeling that Professor Crewel’s ranking is leaning towards someone else. Even though Vil’s recipe contained some of the most potent ingredients, even though he delivered perfection and potency wrapped in a wax-sealed bottle; it may not have been the star of the show.

A parchment scroll slowly materialises into view behind the thick glass. Vil waits with bated breath; it’s been years since he’s last felt tremors like these. The gnawing feeling in his gut feels horribly similar to the first time he experienced stage fright. It’s unfurling. Whoever made this unveiling spell needed to be fired immediately; the bottom rankings were being revealed first. Vil sighs in relief as he sees his name emblazoned on top in a deep red alongside his markings.

Hold on.

Someone else’s name is slowly scrawling itself onto the parchment. Who the hell- an annoying ringing permeates his ears as he feels his heart miss a beat. He doesn’t know that name, but as his eyes swivel to the house logo proudly emblazoned beside it, he can clearly see the Ramshackle logo. The Prefect? The magicless human? The orientation disruptor? The beast-tamer? That person?

It’s been precisely two months since you arrived, and somehow managed to worm your way into Advanced Potions class, despite not possessing any sort of understanding of magic or potions. That should have been a sign in itself, but Vil dismissed it as nothing more than a fluke. Foolish. You’ve kept your head down, preferring to sit in the back of the lab as Crewel lectured the students, while Vil’s consistently kept to the middle rows. Of course he hasn’t noticed you.

Still, it must be a fluke. It has to be. How could you, someone who’s decidedly without any magic at all, become the proverbial spanner in the works? Distantly, he feels his hands clench into tight fists as he scans the row of marks next to your name. You’ve been consistently scoring just a couple of points below him, although the marks for the first class are subpar, of course. Still, he cannot fathom how you’ve managed to beat his average of 96.

That’s until the final row of marks - for this week’s assignment - slowly unveil themselves. Your score of 100 sits proudly above his meagre 87. Vil feels a vein protrude on his forehead. That’s impossible! It’s unheard of for a student to achieve 100 marks in Crewel’s classes, especially for an exam assignment, and especially in the Advanced Potions course! There’s no way, absolutely no way you of all people managed that! The next person below Vil only managed to scrape a 50, for Sevens’ sake!

Vil feels his breathing become uneven. He can’t even imagine how you could’ve cheated - those assigned flasks were enchanted with every sort of spell imaginable preventing cheating, and each potion had to be brewed somewhere on school grounds, under teacher supervision, within an hour.

The clatter of students is beginning to approach. Breathing heavily, he shoulders the door open, devoid of his usual lustrous grace. He avoids his usual row, choosing to sit on the far back corner of the lab - your row. Surely, there must be some indicator as to how you achieved a perfect result, some lapse in composure that would betray what must doubtlessly be foul play.

There’s only one seat between Vil and your chair. He can feel the lack of distance sharply. The lab isn’t particularly big; it’s never bothered him apart from now. Feverishly, he stares down the door, watching the slow trickle of students enter to distract that gnawing feeling. From the corner, he can see the hallway, as well as whoever chooses to look at the noticeboard. It’s agonising, waiting for you to walk in so he can observe you.

When you finally decide to show up, you’re in class around a minute later than Crewel and the previous student. Vil can tell by the direction of your body and feet that you haven’t yet seen the rankings. He’s not sure you know they even exist. He can feel his blood starting to boil slowly, which is only heightened when Crewel points his riding crop at you. Your surprise is apparent by the way your feet stutter to a sharp halt.

“Listen up, whelps!” his voice resounds throughout the lab. “I’m sure most of you have seen the rankings for this month that were posted this morning! As usual, most of your scores were abysmal for the final assignment, though this promising pup managed to get full marks-” here he gestures to you with approval. Vil doesn’t miss the way your brows furrow, then a small smile blooms on your face as you look down at your shoes. “-on an assignment that would likely even trouble my fourth years. Next week, we will go over why your attempts were so laughably mediocre, and I will personally make sure that lesson is drilled into each and every one of you pups.”

Crewel’s piercing glare marches itself around the room. Vil can see your shoulders slump in relief as Crewel strides behind his desk and you are free to make your way to the back. Your gaze is trained straight on your seat. Vil leans on his forearms to observe the other students; a few look back at you with congratulatory smiles, which you return. You don’t seem to have noticed your new neighbour. He feels his eye almost twitch. How dare you? You don’t even realise the full gravitas of this situation! Not only did you dismiss the noticeboard, you don’t even seem to be affected by the knowledge that you got full marks! Not to mention you haven’t even looked at him once! Is it ignorance, or a blatant smugness? Vil almost begins chewing his pen in anger before stopping himself.

The rest of the lecture goes by agonisingly slowly. Today isn’t a lab practical day, so Vil hasn’t got a chance to observe just how you’ve managed to secure that top rank. Instead, he alternates between taking notes and watching you watching Crewel and taking your own notes, which seem to be interspersed with pointless little doodles in the margins of your notepad. It’s infuriating.

He’s worked hard; he’s worked himself to the very bone to be the Fairest One. Yet that title was snatched away by some wimp resting on his laurels and looks to snag the roles that Vil yearned for. Now it’s happening all over again. Something within him is twisting, churning, grating his insides and self-control into a bloody pulp. The title of number one in the Potionology department is something he could finally call his own. Something that couldn’t be snatched away by someone’s looks or charm or mere luck. It was a way to prove himself to his dorm. It was a way to finally be held above all others for something you could very well work hard for. It proved his diligence.

So why? Why was this newly sprouted tuber next to him number one? Why the hell weren’t you taking any of this seriously? He seethes. It’s unbelievable. When he surreptitiously glances at your notes, they’re written in a language that he can’t even make sense of. They’re a far cry from the runes of Twisted Wonderland, and even with his studies on linguistics he can’t figure the twisted squiggles out.

“It’s the Latin alphabet,” your voice is suddenly in his ear, and he wishes for nothing more than to explode on the spot. His eyes flicker between your notepad and your face, which sports a tired smile. You’ve clearly misinterpreted the furrow of his brows as a question, because you continue.

“I can barely make sense of the runes here,” you twirl your pen between your fingers. Your other hand props up your chin as you tilt your face towards Crewel’s general direction, but your eyes linger on his. “So I use the language from my world.”

“I see,” Vil’s curt response doesn’t even make you bat an eye; instead, you turn to face Crewel again as if you had never spoken in the first place. This revelation from you is useless information to him, but if he continues talking to you he may be able to glean more information about your supposed genius.

Towards the end of the lecture, you pause in packing up and swivel towards Vil. He masks his startled expression within a millisecond, luckily.

“I never got round to asking your name,” you smiled sheepishly, scratching your neck with the back of your pen. “I think I saw you at orientation?”

That’s it. Vil feels his self-control splinter.

“Vil Schoenheit,” he says coldly. “You would do well to remember it, tuber potato.”

Your expression is nothing short of bewilderment as you toss your pen in your bag, but ultimately you don’t say anything after you nod. Vil feels a swell of the same ugly, twisted emotion that rears its head at the mention of Neige LeBlanche.

As you leave the room, Vil is left watching your back as the bell rings.

Scene II: Interlude . 　⁺

“Bonjour, Roi des Poisons,” Rook’s sharp gaze misses nothing as Vil feels those eyes observing his countenance. Vil elects to be silent, sipping on the fragrant lavender tea. The Pomefiore lounge never fails to ease his mind with its deep blue tones, fit for the Fairest Queen herself, but it cannot help his turbulent thoughts.

“Who is the lucky one who has cracked that beautiful mask of yours?” Rook’s voice is beginning to sound rather jarring after today’s fiasco earlier.

“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about,” Vil’s stiff words are forcibly turned casual as they leave his mouth.

“Tu me mens,” Rook drapes himself over the armchair Vil sits in, taking off his hat in a sweeping motion. “It breaks my heart, hearing sadness in that beautiful voice of yours. Tell me, who is the cause of this pain?”

“Rook,” Vil turns to him contemplatively, observing how Rook’s present grin is all teeth and sharp edges. “The Prefect of Ramshackle has piqued my interest.”

He didn’t mean to admit it, but the truth escaped his lips before he had a chance to think it through. Vil sighs, shutting his eyes and placing his teacup back into its saucer. It’s been a stressful day, one that can’t be amended with just a simple cup of tea.

“How very beautiful,” Rook comments, rising from his draped position. “I will take my leave, mon Roi.”

Vil has no doubt that Rook’s interest will also be spiked by you. He just hopes he gets some worthwhile intel about you in the process.

Scene III: The Hunter . 　⁺

“Félicitations,” a very familiar voice cuts through the tranquillity of the Botanical Gardens. Vil tenses up from where he was crouched harvesting the flowers of a particularly potent species typically used in aromatherapy. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop on Rook, but as fate would have it, your voice responds to the hunter.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” your tone is quizzical; by the rustling, Vil gathers that you’re likely here for the bounty of flora available in the Garden. Judging by the volume, you and Rook are probably three or four metres around the bush he’s facing.

“Of course, pardon my impertinence. Je suis Rook Hunt. I was simply admiring your beauty, when I realised you’re the one I’ve heard so much about,” Rook’s voice is sincere in his flattery, but Vil almost screams at his forwardness.

“What’s been said about me?” a shift is heard in cloth. No doubt you’re rocking on your feet, either in curiosity or nervousness, Vil can’t tell.

“Your scientific prowess has been held in very high esteem amongst my peers,” Rook murmurs; Vil can imagine those green eyes staring into yours at that moment and fights the urge to shudder at his audacious nature. Seems like Rook’s already cut straight to the heart of things. “I cannot help but be curious about what you plan to do with those sprigs of Somniablossoms, les fleurs des rêves.”

“Just some analysis,” your tone turned to that of academic fervour, one that resonated with Vil. “I’ve noticed that a lot of the elements present in this world match the properties of the ones back in mine - meaning that this place is likely in a shared universe. I’m trying to examine some of the flora here to see if the subcellular structures of plants here differ in any way from the ones back home. Then I’ll extract and purify the oil from these sprigs for further use, and use the flowers to see if they’d work as indicators.”

Your rambling catches Vil off-guard. He hadn’t expected you to be passionate about science outside the classroom; he judged by your attitude in Crewel’s classroom that it was more of a one and done occurrence of genius.

“Incroyable. Your mind captivates me. It seems we share the same love of science,” Rook’s own scientific fervour is clearly audible in his voice. Vil feels sickened by this sudden closeness between the two of you. He can’t turn away from the conversation, listening while he holds his breath.

“Yeah,” your tone is once again sheepish, drawing the ‘e’ vowel out ever so slightly. “I can’t read the runes here all that fluently, so it’s up to me to conduct my own research instead of relying too much on textbooks.”

“What tenacity! I would love to see your workspace someday,” Rook praises. It’s too much for Vil; he can’t listen any more without feeling that ugly monster within rear its head. “I’m sure it’s as captivating as that wonderful brain.”

Rook’s sweet talk fades out as Vil quietly slips away. He’s got no doubt that Rook sniffed his presence out; he only hopes you were too preoccupied by the vice Housewarden to notice him as well.

He massages his temples as he walks into the secluded corner of the Pomefiore lounge, seeking out his favourite armchair. It’s thankfully empty, as he’s one of the only ones with a free period at this time. Now he’s got time to think. All these negative feelings were going to damage his health, and he couldn’t afford to lose sleep over this. Not with the SDC a mere three months away.

No, he should treat this as a challenge. You proved yourself to be a worthy opponent with clear wit, something you had clearly worked for. To win against you… to win against you would be a more worthwhile endeavour than winning against that bumbling Neige. You would not take his title away from him. At long last, here was something that he could work hard for instead of it being taken away by something out of his control.

Was that what this was about? Control? After being overlooked for everything, left to play the villain, surely he could achieve this, at least?

“Roi des Poisons, I hope you were adequately amused,” Rook’s sudden appearance almost started Vil from his musings. Almost.

“Quite,” Vil responded, staring out of the window at the blue sky and beyond.

[gojinka]

🚧 I’m carny, (he/him, 19) but feel free to call me WorldSewage, World, Sewage, Gatored, any other iteration of it, as long as I know you’re talking about me. This is a side account!

Click read more and scroll to the ⚠️ section for a FAQ!

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Homerun Au / ABOUT ME / extra art / info under the cut! 📌

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My tags are formatted pretty clearly, but just in case:

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——

🥩— I can’t promise I’ll update the below as of posting this (3/6/23) so please check out the “HOMERUN AU” tag for all information, but here are some quick links for those interested!

I know this au MAY seem a tad confusing, but I’m updating it as I go!

Homerun World Building: X — X

SQUIDSISTERS X — Evil Callie + “MUD” — 🐙Octavio

DEEPCUT: “Return of the Mammalians” (designs) (designs + small information) (bigman comic)