#wait I’m actually so into this Headcanon

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung��s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[echo-riot]

Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of

Anyways-

VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble

Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.

Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.

Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.

Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.

Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers

She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you

While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”

Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.

She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”

Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”

If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.

She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”

Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.

Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)

Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴‍☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”

Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.

If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)

Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.

————————————————————————____________________________________________

You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.

“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”

“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”

She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, making her smirk.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”

Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”

You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”

“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”

Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Dr. Stone headcanons of the Wise Generals' sleeping habits? Pretty please🥺

hello 🦕 anon! So sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy the little headcanons! Just imagining this was so cute to me so I really hope you enjoy!🫶

5 wise generals sleeping habits 💤💞

Senku: 

I think Senku would actually have a pretty good sleep schedule 

He needs the right amount of sleep to use his brain to the fullest 

As for sleeping in general he’s a side sleeper

He hates laying on his back and hate laying on his stomach 

He’s not a cuddler AT FIRST

But as time goes on he gets a bit more clingy

First it’s just hand holding

Then it was intertwined legs

But one night he woke up and you weren’t there

He walks around the hut (if it’s the Stone Age) or the house (if it’s modern or 4d science) looking for you

He kinda gets nervous until he sees you coming out of the bathroom

He chuckles as you follow him 

As soon as you both lay in bed he locks you with his arms and legs and you’ve both slept like that ever since 

Chrome:

Chrome tries to have a good schedule, but his mind just wakes him up in the middle of the, curious about many things he’s yet to learn

You’ll often find him messing with his rocks or just sitting up and looking outside

“Oh I’m sorry did I wake you? I just couldn’t sleep.”

A lot of times you’ll just sit with him and let him ramble or you slowly drag him back to bed

There are some nights where you’ll fall asleep while you guys are talking and either you’ll wake up in the same spot you fell asleep in or you “magically” end up back in your bed

The few times Chrome doesn’t wake up he’s a heavy HEAVY sleeper 

I’m talking like the world could literally be ending and he’s still somehow asleep 

He’s an everywhere sleeper. As in his body is all over the place when he’s asleep 

You two will start off cuddling but by the end of the night Chrome’s horizontal to the bed with his waist all twisted up and his arms all over the place

You might even accidentally get punched or kicked once or twice💀

Gen:

Gen can just magically falls asleep

He doesn’t even show signs of being tired he’ll just be like, “goodnight y/n” and then knock out

He doesn’t really have a sleep schedule but always gets his 8 hours or more

Like some nights he goes to bed at 8 but then wakes up at 7 or he goes to bed at midnight and wakes up at 11 in the morning 

I say he’s either a normal side sleeper or he sleeps in the fetal position 

Sometimes he’s cuddly and other times he’s not 

He’s either all up on you, just holding your hand, or just close

Ukyo:

I think Ukyo would still kinda have his military sleep schedule engraved in him somehow 

From what very little I know about the military there’s the same rise and shine and nighty nighty all the time so expect Ukyo to have the same schedule every single day

I think he’s a light sleeper so try your best not to toss and turn

He likes to sleep on his side or on his back

His breathing is very light so it literally sounds like he’s dead some nights

It’s genuinely concerning 

He loves cuddling, unless you move around a lot, then it’s harder for him to sleep

Massage his head and he’s out

He’s honestly like a cat, just so satisfied when you rub his head

Ryusui:

What’s a sleep schedule 😀

He either goes to bed at a reasonable time or is just up for days straight with little naps here and there

“My desire doesn’t sleep! So why should I?”

I swear 

You have to pull him to bed

When he FINALLY lays down, he’s all over you

Like you like your personal space, but he LOVES it

He’ll either be holding you, or you’re on top of him, or he’s on top of you, or some other weird position 

I hope your body’s normally cold cause his body runs extremely hot, so if you run cold then it’s more bearable 

Has the cutest little snore

I wouldn’t even consider it that it’s just a little squeak he kinda makes when sleeping 

Sometimes he sleeps the whole night, other times he wakes up and starts doing something 

If you choose to stay up with him because he would never make you he’ll share his thoughts and desires with you 

But if you stay asleep you’ll feel a light kiss on your head and hear a small “I love you” before he’s off doing who knows what 

[lovetreats]

jjk men and some valorant headcanons.

LOVETREATS .ᐟ navi. jjk m.list.

characters .ᐟ gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, and choso!

content .ᐟ valorant is its own warning

a/n .ᐟ random headcanon but also this is for the smau im planning in my head

gojo is 100% a duelist you cannotttt convince me otherwise. jett, neon, iso, and phoenix are his options, with jett being his most preferred.

gojo can be a little cocky and sassy, but i’m also sure that he’s (unfortunately) really good at being a duelist. like he has such a huge ego BECAUSE he has something to show for it. give him a fucking sheriff and he’ll ace on the first round already lol.

gojo’s game sense is actually insane it makes you hate him. you think you’re two steps ahead of him ??? very funny. you’re already dead

gojo’s rank is radiant, the highest rank on valorant, in exchange for his sleep schedule 😭

geto has 3 roles he can work around with: sentinel, initiator, and duelist. sentinel’s his favorite role, loves setting up traps and making it harder for the enemy team to take control of ‘a’ or ‘b’ site lmaoooo he’s a menace

geto as a sentinel, he loves playing cypher, killjoy, and chamber (but only on certain occasions).

geto as an initiator would play kay/o, skye, sova, and breach. his second role, this one is mainly whenever one of them wants to play sentinel. he’s pretty good with his blinds, doesn’t blind the team (thank god) and, thanks to nanami, knows how to throw some absolutely nasty blinds that can make someone want to rip their hair out lmao

geto as a duelist is something you’ll rarely see. he doesn’t like playing duelist, it’s too aggressive for him. he only plays it because whenever satoru and he would duo, satoru would always ask him to be a duelist or be someone with heal. (if he plays sage, he’s 100% a battle sage)

geto’s rank is either high immortal or radiant. sleeps pretty good, unlike a white haired dummy

sukuna is a duelist and ONLY a duelist. you will not see this man play any other role, EVER. absolutely loves playing reyna and yoru.

sukuna plays reyna because he likes how selfish her kit is (he’s legit one of those annoying players who only play for kills, would lock in if shit gets too serious aka he’s losing and/or botfrag LOL)

sukuna plays yoru because his kit is cool as shit and loves messing around with his blinds

sukuna is, unfortunately, a good player in certain cases. his game sense is on par with gojo’s

sukuna’s rank is radiant now because he plays with the others every time and they all basically forced him to be a team player LMAO, has a shit sleep schedule like gojo

nanami is 100% versatile. initiator, sentinel, duelist, controller—he can play all of them and he’s great too. but here’s the thing:

nanami never plays valorant unless the others force him to play 😭😭😭😭😭

nanami plays beauuuutifully with initiators. his blinds are so fucking irritating if you’re on the enemy team, and a godsend if you’re on his team. is really great with gathering info for the team too

nanami likes playing as an initiator more than the others because he likes gathering info + he likes making the others do the rest of the work lol

nanami can play as a sentinel and controller if someone wants to be initiator, but if you want him to be a duelist… oh you’ll have to beg 😭 he dislikeeees playing them, same with geto, it’s too aggressive for him and risky.

nanami’s rank is probably ascendant or high immortal

choso is a controller main who is pretty versatile too, but doesn’t really dabble into them. he’s an omen girlie no DOUBTTTT

choso knows how to properly make sure that at least one site is in their hands.

choso uses omen so much he has so much tricks up his sleeve and he does them so effortlessly. if the map is bind and he’s waiting for the enemy to take, let’s say ‘a’ site, since from what nanami last said about how they were rotating from ‘b’ to ‘a’, he readied his teleport skill, pretended to use the teleporter and immediately used his skill to come back to ‘a’ site. now the remaining people on the enemy team thinks he’s ‘b’ site and BAM! they’re all dead 😭

choso’s rank is high immortal, got out of low immortal after playing with the others.

all rights reserved © LOVETREATS. all fanfics belong to me. do not repost or claim my content as yours. do not recommend on any other platforms any of the works seen here.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Love your work 😍 tell me what are your headcanons for Johnny, Gyro, Hot Pants, and Diego in a scenario where they learn that their partner has actually been working for Valentine the whole time and some time later sacrificed themselves to atone for their betrayal

Thank you!! Very Sweet (heh) of you to say!

Intriguing request, it gave me some thoughts immediately and we love angst here so yeah~enjoy~

When you say sacrifice themselves I immediately assume you mean reader dies to atone, so that is what we’re going with (with variation of this for Hot Pants and Diego)

-

Genre: Angst

Content, Plz read: reader death, religious (and regular) guilt and themes, canon typical violence, Diego kills reader in his part

Style: micro fic/fic outline, different lengths

Characters: Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Hot Pants, and Diego Brando in:

“My darling, if I hurt you, I’m sorry

Forgive me, and please, say you are mine”

All this time…you’ve been working for the enemy, all this time.

Johnny Joestar: You had Intended in the beginning to obey your simple directive. Retrieve whatever corpse parts Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli had acquired, and eliminate them if possible. The method was up to you, and as wary as they were of you, there was no way they could know of your true nature. All you had to do was wait for their guard to drop enough for you to make your move.

Getting close to Johnny was all part of the act, initially. Though the admiration you felt for his resolve was genuine…and so was the eventual real affection you found yourself feeling for him in the quiet moments you spent with him during your short periods of rest at night. You told yourself (and the President, in your infrequent status updates) that you’d wait just a little longer before making your move under the pretense that you were aiming to procure more corpse parts. If you waited longer, maybe they’d find more. You’re sure your consistent inaction is what prompted Valentine to call off your mission, and order you return to his side (since Clearly you needed a reminder of your place in all this, and you performed your tasks more successfully when you felt the inherent threat of his presence.)

You had wished Johnny had just shot you right then and there when you obeyed Valentine’s command like the lapdog you were, shamefully returning to him, unwilling to murmur your apologies given how entirely dishonest and empty it would sound now that you’ve thoroughly betrayed him.

Why didn’t he just shoot you…he knew you were the enemy now. You knew Johnny had the resolve to do it. So why didn’t he just kill you himself?

It made your hands quiver with guilt, even more so when it dawned on you why.

He had doubt.

If you were truly his enemy, you had plenty of opportunities where you could have killed him and Gyro in the middle of the night and taken the corpse parts, or taken advantage of an enemy stand attack to quickly dispatch them, or the myriad of other opportunities you had to complete your mission. But you chose not to.

And that is why he hesitated.

You had to atone. You thought about it carefully, with lots of time to consider how you should, since the President also no longer trusted you and kept you on a tight leash by not even giving you anymore tasks to perform. You knew he was just observing you. Waiting for the inevitable betrayal you were planning, but keeping you alive as a potential human shield should Johnny still harbor any affection for you.

You settled on a phrase. A quick string of words you prayed you could say faster than the President could react to. Nothing sappy or sentimental about how you regretted betraying Johnny or that you really loved him and wished the best for him…something practical.

You knew you wouldn’t be capable of harming Valentine physically in your position, not with how powerful his stand was, and especially not with how carefully he was watching you.

So you’d give Johnny a hint. A vital piece of the puzzle. Johnny was smart, even if he couldn’t fully understand the meaning of your words immediately you knew he could still use them. Valentine’s hasty decision to keep you alive and close to him had backfired quite miraculously, because you had come to comprehend (at least to an extent) the new ability the holy corpse blessed him with.

The President had brought you along on that damn train, and so many had pursued.

And as soon as the opportunity presented itself, the moment Johnny was right in front of you, even though you knew you would be slaughtered immediately, you had resolved in your heart to warn Johnny about Love Train.

“The holy corpse redirects misfortune!”

It’s so…vague. Is it too vague? But that’s what it does, that’s the only way you could think to put it. The clearest and only way.

The bullets from Valentine’s revolver tore through your body as soon as the words left your mouth. You wondered why he had to shoot you so many times? He really was “Funny” Valentine…surely only one or two shots from that close would’ve been enough, this was just overkill.

How could you make jokes to yourself at a time like this…?

Because you had already accepted your death? Is it really possible to face something without fear just because you knew it was coming? That couldn’t be it. But maybe it was, for some things, and depending on who you are.

It was all so vague, so unsatisfying, your consciousness, your life, it was all fading so fast but at least you got to see Johnny again. Your vision was blurry and your mind fading but…even when he was looking at the scene unfolding before him with horror and agony, you could still see the subtle, quiet, but ever persistent resolve as even in all the chaos he was trying to piece together the meaning of your words so he would not need to hesitate anymore and waste even a second of your sacrifice.

You had said that for a reason. Willingly sacrificed whatever minuscule chance of survival you might’ve had if you just stayed quiet, to give him the slightest, vaguest advantage in this fight.

…

You too. One more name added to the list of so many people who left him behind. It’s bitter, it’s cold, there’s no silver lining in his mind, not a real one anyways. Did you have to die for Valentine to be defeated? Maybe not. If things had gone a bit differently, maybe you, and Gyro would still be alive right now.

But he can’t keep looking back. Even if all he can do is thank you both for the ways you’ve supported him and helped him grow, and make sure you were returned to your homes and properly buried, he would do all he could to make sure you were given the respect you both deserve. That was the highest way to honor you both. To keep living, since it was your lives that touched his and strengthened his resolve, a crucial push, a guiding hand, a light along his path. To honor you would be to move forward.

Gyro Zeppeli: A spy of the President, sent to observe him, try to figure out everything about him…Everything…age, height, weight, occupation, place of origin, motivation to join the race, real name, abilities, notable personality traits, etc…Most Importantly, you were to look for weaknesses. And if you couldn’t determine any, make one.

He feels so STUPID when he overheard you secretly speaking to someone over the telephone, concluding the call with a very clear “understood, Mr. President”.

He should’ve known better. Of course someone like you wasn’t actually interested in him, he had fallen so easily for your little guise as a spectator to the race. The story had sounded believable enough, but he accepted it quickly because you were skilled at flattering and buttering him up. Of course he wasn’t going to question you, not with how you praised his performance in the race, marveled at his talents, and shyly confessed you found him roguishly charming~

He bought you drinks at checkpoints when he could, and you would smile and ask him “shouldn’t you be resting?” and he’d say yes, but that he didn’t mind sacrificing an hour or so of downtime so he could spend it with you instead.

Well. If he insisted…you wouldn’t object~

It sounded so genuine when you gently placed your hand on his arm and asked him questions about himself.

He liked you a lot, asking you about yourself in turn and kissing you goodbye when it was time for him to leave. He still maintained his guard though, in a manner that implied he had been raised to keep certain things secret no matter what. But even his unwillingness to open up about certain things was information you could use to draw some conclusions.

You had been told Gyro was some dangerous threat, some bad man that you had to do everything in your power to stop. And maybe you had never been the best judge of character given you worked for Funny Valentine, but from your observance of Gyro…he wasn’t some evil force at all.

Your confidence was wavering, and with the way he was already talking eagerly about taking you back with him to his home country, for the first time in your life you were beginning to wonder if the path you were walking was really the right one.

You had intended that telephone conversation to be your last one, only making it because if you didn’t then someone would be sent to check on you. You had meant to come clean, confess to Gyro and Johnny, and try to make amends.

You had never expected when you were given this order directly from the President that you’d be chasing Gyro down and anxiously begging him to hear you out, because you feared losing the man you grew to love.

You know he’s stubborn. And he didn’t listen when he was really upset about something.

He finally looks at you when you actually step in front of him.

You had seen him angry before, but you felt the true weight of that intensity when it was actually fully directed at you.

It’s much worse to hear Gyro loudly tell you to get out of his way, and that he never wanted to see you again. It’s different when he’s yelling at you. You can’t think of anything to say, you have no defense…you tricked him, took advantage of his affection for you, all in the name of literally one of the evilest men currently alive.

Gyro deserved to be furious with you, so you stepped out of his way, your head lowered in shame. You wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, if at all.

But you would attempt to assist him, in any small ways you could. Feeding false information to their enemies, and even silently taking out a few of the President’s hired assassins. You had intended to never run into Gyro again, to respect his wish of never seeing you, but it didn’t take long for the President to catch on to your betrayal. The reports he gave to you became vaguer and vaguer, until all you knew was that there was another stand user assassin waiting in Philadelphia.

True, and an effective trap for you. He could kill Many birds with one stone if he could get rid of you along with everyone else he planned on disposing of.

With no other knowledge of what you were looking for, you were a little late in finding the assassin. D-I-S-C-O was already fighting Gyro, but the silver lining was that he was so preoccupied with Gyro he didn’t notice you sneaking up behind him.

Despite how tough he liked to talk, you saw the momentary relief in Gyro’s eyes at the sight of you still alive.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” he huffs, but he didn’t have the same fire in his tone like when he was actually upset at you.

“I just saved your life,” you point out, trying to suppress the urge to melt right into his arms on the spot.

“I had it under control.”

“You’re welcome~”

He gave you a handsome smirk: “I still don’t trust you.”

Now that part is true, even if he’s smiling in the moment he’s not going to just move past what you had done so easily.

Before you could even respond, a flicker of movement behind him caught your eye. Whatever it was, you had only a moment to react, and all you could do was shove Gyro out of the way before it hit him.

So it hits you instead.

Another enemy…that you had missed. Gyro quickly dispatches whoever it was, but the damage from the attack was undoubtedly fatal. A poison, deep in your system and targeting your vital organs. Gyro carried you off to safety, but as soon as he had a chance to properly examine you, he’d know it was too late. Despite never telling you, your observations had led you to conclude Gyro had an expansive medical knowledge. You were too far gone, and he’d see it immediately.

He sets you down as gently as he can muster, propping your back up against the wall of a building.

He places his index and middle finger onto the pulse of your neck, and then places his palm against your forehead, a bit forcefully in his urgency.

He mutters a curse in italian under his breath. Not even the miraculous powers of Gyro Zeppeli can stop an inevitable death.

“Trust me now?” you ask, your strength failing you as you try to reach a hand up to touch his jaw.

“Shut up,” he counters, weaker than you’ve ever heard from him. His shoulders are shaking, his hand clutching yours tightly as he frantically searches for an answer. Medical knowledge couldn’t solve something like this on its own, and he couldn’t even identify what kind of poison you were inflicted by. Some doctor he turned out to be…

He’s just denying that the poison is unique to the stand. Even if he had studied every single poison in the world, he would not be able to identify and treat this one. He couldn’t even expel it with the spin if he didn’t know what it was.

“Maybe there’s a��hospital around here…” he suggests, reaching to pick you up again, his breathing intensifying not from the recent enemy encounters, but from the anxiety shaking his core. To not be able to save someone, especially someone he cares about…it was a type of fear even he couldn’t bear, despite the way he was raised.

“You know better than anyone that it’s too late,” you point out quietly. The feeling of your own body shutting down…it was frightening, but somehow you didn’t feel as scared as you thought you should be.

He’s shushing you again, trying to pick you up. Despite his trembling, Gyro’s hands were still steady when he reached for you.

You use the last bit of your strength to take his hands in yours.

“Huh…” you murmur. “So even you can be gentle sometimes.”

“Course I can.” He musters a smile, squeezing your hand slightly. It soothes you. You like to believe he’s pretty good at being a doctor.

“I feel so calm, even though I know I’m going to die.”

“Might be a symptom of the poison…sedative properties that are making you feel more relaxed…”

“Ha…that’s kinda nice for me…”

“Where is your family?” he changes the subject.

“My family?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure you make it home.”

You don’t have much time left, stammering out where your family is, and muttering your thank yous as your body gives out.

He catches you, laying your body down gently and placing his cape over you. A temporary arrangement until the situation calms and he can come back for your body.

Just wait on him a moment, he’ll come back for you. He promises.

Hot Pants: Your lover was a guarded woman, but something about your charisma somehow dropped those defenses just enough for even someone like her to open up. At least a bit. Really you’re just using your stand ability: Heart of Glass. It heightens emotions, targeting deep-seated ones. Great for inciting violence, or loosening lips…making you one of President Valentine’s favorite stand users at his disposal. Hot Pants was much too mysterious for his liking, so you were sent to investigate. A worthwhile assignment…even though it took you a good while to learn anything, the discovery that she certainly had a stand was Very Valuable.

You were her companion, a partner to keep the freezing nights a little warmer, and her time in the race less lonely. But despite being the closest person to her, she didn’t open up easily. You really had to work your stand to worm your way into her heart and get past that stoic, distant politeness she used even with you.

It took time, but you got through.

One starry night, as you sat by her side in another comfortable but quiet moment, you finally got it. Like the clicking of a lock when the code has finally been cracked, you had gotten through the barrier of her heart, and you were FINALLY going to get SOMETHING to report back to F.V. He was getting real impatient with your meager reports.

You weren’t used to Hot Pants touching you first, usually it was you initiating any sort of affection. But tonight, she asked your permission to put her head on your shoulder, and you said yes, of course.

Her hair is soft, you intertwine your hand with hers and she actually squeezes your hand, unusual for her.

“I don’t know what it is about tonight…” she sighs. A good sign for you, she doesn’t realize you have a stand. “But…would you let me confess something to you?”

“I’ll always be willing to listen to you,” you smile.

Finally, she opens up. Just about why she has chosen the path of a nun, but it is enough.

Guilt. Guilt. A woman entirely weighed down by soul crushing guilt.

And she expresses how even though she doesn’t show it or say it, your companionship has been a source of comfort for her. She’s distant with you because she has not been absolved of her great sin, it weighs so heavily on her that she cannot allow herself to get too close. It would not be fair, because she can’t give you the attention you deserve while this guilt consumes her.

And now your own guilt is weighing on your mind. You release her heart from the chains of your stand, and she exhales heavily, leaning against you a little more. It must’ve been exhausting, fighting a silent battle with your stand for so long and not even knowing.

“Feeling like a weight has been lifted?” you ask quietly.

She replies with a quick hum. “Somehow…yes. Thank you. For listening.”

Your turn to experience the weight of guilt. This whole time…you’ve been playing her for a fool. You were a liar, and you hadn’t even felt bad about it til right now. If she was a sinner, then you were the devil.

“May I confess something in turn?” you ask.

She’s tired from the impact of your stand, but she nods, responding with a firm: “of course,” and for once you don’t feel like a near invincible retainer to the President, and instead you’re nothing more than a deceptive snake.

“I owe the President a great debt,” you mutter as calmly as you can. But she immediately stiffens and pulls away from you, despite her tiredness her senses sharpen immediately, her hand going to that strange weapon by her side.

Her hand hovered over it, her gaze wary, the trust you had built immediately cracking, one wrong word away from shattering, but she would permit you to speak. “He took me in when I had no one, granted me a new life. I would be free from my debt after…” the words taste bitter on your tongue, but they are accurate: “…this last job.”

Just a job. She was just another job for you to dissect and send back to the President.

She is quiet, back to that stoic visage, but the slight narrowing of her eyebrows gave away how much you have shaken her.

She turns away, staring off at nothing in the distance, but you wouldn’t be able to break through this new guard.

“Then you’d best report back, before your President begins to wonder where you are.”

Her voice is cold, and she cannot disguise how upset she is right now.

You want to confess you’ve even used your stand on her. But it’s better if you just leave. Right now is not the time for words.

…

How long did not matter, this was a fitting punishment for someone like you. The manifestation of your guilt circled around you, unable to reach you from where you had stationed yourself on a pile of discarded items, but waiting for you, eternally.

Hot Pants stood in the entryway of the garbage dump with the appearance of a church.

You had killed Axl RO in your attempt to save Hot Pants, despite knowing to an extent how Civil War functioned.

With the entirety of the specters’ attention on you, Johnny, Gyro, and Hot Pants could leave. Three lives at the cost of yours…that was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

“Go,” is all you said, as firmly as you could, despite the nearly uncontrollable urge to beg her to not leave you like this. This was…terrifying. You wanted to cry and scream and beg her to find some way to save you. But she felt like this every night when she had to relive the cause of her own guilt in her nightmares. If she could act unaffected, then you could too.

From her spot in the doorway, she shuts her eyes, bows her head, and intertwines her fingers. Her lips move. You are too far away to hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s a prayer.

When she opens her eyes, gives you a firm nod, a few stray tears trailing down her face betraying her mask of stoicism. You nod in turn.

She lingers a moment, and you watch her too, having one last silent exchange. One more heart to heart.

She’s forgiven you, but really, she didn’t hate you for your initial betrayal in the first place.

Though she wished you hadn’t been so hasty to pay for your sins. Now she was going to feel even more guilt, leaving you behind like this, but there was no changing your mind on this. And if this eased the weight of your sins, she’d be a hypocrite to try and take that away from you.

It’s hard to be strong when she turns away, so you don’t even try, giving in and burying your mouth in your hands and muffling your own screams for anyone to save you from this hell of your own making. But this is what you chose, and if it gave her another chance at finding what she wanted, you’d do it again.

Diego Brando: He had been Quite furious when you finally told him the President had offered you a very generous sum of money for all the information you had on Diego. Who could blame him for getting mad at you, after all, you could’ve gotten so much more if you had played your cards right! Why betray him if you couldn’t get more out of it? That’s what Really irks him about the mess you’ve made for him.

But it’s okay now. All is about to be forgiven. Your head rests on his lap and your skin loses its color due to the immense amount of blood you were losing from a massive gash from the middle of your chest all the way down to your stomach.

Of course Diego had used your guilt against you, even though you had planned to try and redeem yourself anyways.

You had told him literally everything you had observed during your employment under Funny Valentine, even the details you thought weren’t important; a genius like Dio could use literally anything that you say.

And after having you get on your knees and groveling for his forgiveness for a bit, you have officially exhausted both your usefulness and entertainment value.

Sure, he liked you a lot when you were sweethearts. And SURE he also would’ve betrayed you if there was a worthwhile reward on the line, but the fact of the matter is YOU betrayed HIM. It’s a shame really. He might’ve liked putting a ring on your finger and spoiling you rotten with the money he was going to win from the race. But you had to go and throw it allll away.

Still. He didn’t love the feeling of ripping you apart. Even though he had told himself you were nothing more than a pigeon, apparently all the time he had spent with you actually affected him. He stroked your cheek with a surprising amount of gentleness for what he had just done, watching you die, observing how your lips move…trying to say something to him, even now? Looked like you were trying to say his name, but he couldn’t tell if you were cursing his name or singing his praises in your final moments.

“Hm? I can’t quite understand you,” he sighs, and your eyes tear up and you try again but no sound will come out and for the first time in his life he finds himself looking away as someone dies right in front of him.

It’s so…frustrating. He thought it’d feel satisfying to tie up loose ends by getting rid of you. Instead it’s just a sort of hollow, dull feeling thrumming in his chest. Ugh. That same, disgusting feeling he got in the rare moments he made a mistake.

Mistakes felt terrible, but what he really hated was the regret that came with it.

He could shove it down for now, but he’d regret it later if he just left you like this, so he uses his influence to make sure you’re properly buried somewhere nice. And THEN he shoves it down. You can haunt him later. Right now he had a race to win and a President to defy at every turn.

-

Author’s note: I can’t believe you’ve been secretly working for the President, smh.

The title comes from the song: Return to Me

[valewritessss]

Seeing @forrpercyys art of Percy with braces has given me that headcanon

[tremordusk]

Rio: I don’t understand why you guys hate me, especially you *points to Lilia*

Lilia: oh dear god hear we go again

Rio: I am the natural order of all things! The natural cycle itself, what’s there not to like?

Lilia: Ok fine, but did you have to make period cramps that bad?

Rio: *clearly does not know what to say for once*

Rio: wait they’re that bad?!

Lilia: You ever wonder that one week of the month where Agatha really hates you?

Rio: What do you mean it’s hot when she’s very…OH—

Lilia: She’s in pain you idiot—

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[is-this-even-relatable]

A Rising Phantom

———

Summary: danny died, and no one knows. He is a full ghost, and only thanks to his dual obsessions can he “live” a normal life and pretend that nothing happened.

I aim to make this a multichaptered fic! Hopefully, the first fic I post on AO3!

HEADCANONS/TROPES/TAGS:

no one knows! AU

full ghost! danny

eventual everlasting trio

dual obsessions inspired by this post, which are protection (Phantom) and space (Fenton)

my own headcanon: danny's death is inevitable, a single point in time that cannot be avoided or changed.

———

Danny died on a Saturday.

He was too young to have been left alone; any other house would’ve be fine, but everyone in that town knew, even then, that the Fentons' house was to be avoided by a wide berth.

His parents had rushed out in a frustrated fit, leaving him and Jazz by themselves for the weekend, just like so many before. They were always an afterthought to their parents, long before he was 14.

Danny didn’t intend to go down to the lab that night. But Jazz was out with her friend Kyle, and he was bored. And something down there called to him, though he didn’t know it.

He didn’t know that forces beyond his comprehension were leading to this point, this singularity.

If Danny had known the fate in store for him, he would have begged his parents for them to stay that night, or take him with them. But he didn't know, he couldn't have known... because that's how it was always going to be.

He didn’t know that a man with a clock in his chest, who changed between ages in the blink of an eye, was watching as he walked down those lonely steps.

He didn’t know, as he pulled on a white hazmat suit hand-sewn just for him, far too flimsy for what it was meant to protect him against, that a sentient dimension was pushing against the veil, straining for him.

He didn’t know, as he stepped through the gaping metal maw, that it had already called his name, and death had claimed it.

And afterwards, while he curled up on the cold basement floor, clutching his chest for a pulse, he still did not know that even if he had known... he would have had no choice but to do the same.

Danny died when he turned the portal on, alone in his parents’ lab.

Standing inside, fifty million Watts of electricity coursed from his palm to his heart, searing its path into his skin. It had no exit route. It cooked him from the inside, lighting all of his nerves on fire, and doused him in an infinite realm’s worth of dimensional energy. After what seemed like hours of screaming, panicking, burning- he somehow managed to crawl out of the portal.

He died then, lying flat in front of the machine that ended him, as the intense pain faded into a dull throb that replaced the beating that used to be in his chest.

And as he sat up, feeling both sore and feather-light, he looked down upon his body, and realized that he had died that day, and he was not coming back.

Danny panicked. And he did the only thing he could do. He decided to run away, afraid of what he was, confused and scared and feeling very not himself.

But the main anxiety that drove him to hide his accident was a rather juvenile one.

…He was afraid that his parents would be upset that he had gone into the lab without their permission.

He had messed with their stuff, and turned something on… something he definitely shouldn’t have.

He had just opened a portal to a realm full of the very things that kept him from sleeping at night, of “unfeeling monsters” that his parents had drilled into him about for years.

A portal to ghosts… that were now free to come through.

That thought made something inside him solidify, and a low hum began to emanate from him as he worried about his family. About the ghosts and the portal and how they were going to manage without him…

He couldn’t just leave like this. Not when he was responsible. He couldn’t let a whole realm of monsters hurt his family. At that thought, dread filled him, and that same something inside his chest ached.

But it occurred to him that he still had to leave. Not just at the thought of his parents stumbling in on his body.

No, it was about him. For he was one of them now, wasn’t he? A ghost. And he was a monster now, too. Despite not feeling like one. Despite knowing that there was clearly something wrong with what he had been told and what he knew was intimately true of himself in this new form.

But something inside him whispered at him that he couldn’t take the chance, if he did turn into a monster. He couldn’t let himself hurt his family.

So with fears on his back and a tingle fading from his fingertips, Danny pulled himself up onto unsteady feet. He took his body outside, to the woods where no one would know. And he buried it, alone, surrounded by trees and the sky.

He sat there, at his fresh grave, and cried.

Holding his arms around himself tight, he mourned the loss of warmth, of blood pumping and his heartbeat, so loud in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence, he mourned that he’d never made close friends, nor really had the chance.

Looking up at the stars, he mourned that he could never fulfill his dream of being an astronaut.

He mourned for himself because no one else could.

And as his last cry petered off into the night, the sun broke the horizon.

A different something tugged at his chest, and he let it pull without resistance, worn ragged as he was.

And he was grateful he did. For a soothing light washed over him and transformed him into something similar, but not quite as he was Before.

But he felt warmth, and he felt a pseudo-beat in his chest, sluggish as it was. And suddenly he realized that although he was dead, he was alive in a different way.

He was still there.

He didn’t have to give up on life.

He was not going to be a monster.

Danny walked back home. He washed the dirt away from under his fingernails. He swept the lab until it looked like no one had been there. Minus the massive swirling vortex.

And when Jazz got home from her sleepover, Danny hugged her with a smile.

He was going to be fine.

They would all be fine, he would make sure of it.

[hanzajesthanza]

a book with geralt 😃

a book with geralt without ciri 😐

a book with geralt without yennefer 😔

a book with geralt without dandelion 💀

[ashpkat]

in my idealized version of the books (the Good timeline), jericho and constantine’s relationship is not the one aaron and calls relationship parallels — it’s constantine and joseph. in this essay i will *gets taken out by cassandra clare’s snipers*

[buff-muffin]

Post Marineford spoilers nerds

You guys ever think about how in that small recovery arc after marineford that Luffy was still wearing the same shorts from the battle? Like, Law and the others could have lent him some clothes. Or idfk an old jump suit. Like. I know the pants were red but they would probably be black with the amount of blood that must of soaked those fuckers. His blood, Ace’s, Jimbe’s and the amount of corpses that must have been on the floor.

Do you think they still smelled of smoke, gun powder and blood? Do you think they made Luffy’s flashbacks worse? Do you think seeing his blood soaked yellow vest triggered him? What do you think happened to that outfit? He wasn’t wearing it when he returned to marineford. Maybe he burned it. Like stripping himself of that layer of himself or shedding his skin. Maybe it’s at the bottom of the ocean. A scar he could never rid of not forgotten but buried.

Idk man I’m just snowballing :)

[fatelcved]

my sister: don’t get me anything for christmas bc you helped me get a dog

me: okay if you’re sure

me on dec 24, sneaking her gift under the tree:

[macroglossus]

come on dude

[allebooklover]

Man, BNHA fandom sure are going wild over the leaks, huh

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.