#secondly that's not. who he did that to. in canon. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonydustx · 5 days

Note

how they would react to F!Reader saying she's pregnant but with Shanks, Rayleigh and Law?

Oi oi! Turu bem? Vou deixar até o comecinho da resposta em português porque sim hahahahah primeiro, obrigada pelo pedido e segundo, eu acho que me empolguei escrevendo de novo, sou inimiga do resumo. O do Ray acho que pode ter ficado um pouco confuso porque tentei usar as duas eras (como pode ele ser tãão saborosíssimo toda vez que aparece, af). Mas é isso, obrigadão e espero que goste <3

And here’s the translation of the day: Hey Hey! How are you? I'll even leave the beginning of the answer in portuguese because yes hahahahah (for those who don't understand PT-BR, I discovered that the requester is brazilian like me) firstly, thank you for the request and secondly, I think I got carried away writing again. I think Ray's might have been a little confusing because I tried to use both eras (how can he be so delicious every time he appears, haha). But that's it, thank you and I hope you like it <3

Oh, and hello @badlandsx! I'm tagging you here because I saw your request about Law, but don't worry, I'll soon write the other part that you also requested. Thank you <3

requests open | one piece masterlist (other pregnancy stories are here)

Warnings are place individually in each story.

Rayleigh

Warnings: mentions of new and old Ray, like I said I love them both. Buggy and Shanks kids are one of my favorite things about Roger's era, so we have them here. Mention to F!Reader being an herbalist. Brief not-so-canonical mention of Sabaody's arc.

Acid temperament, answers on the tip of the tongue, a captivating smile. Rayleigh didn't have much of an option but to fall in love at first sight when you two bumped into each other in a random bar on a random island. It didn't matter anymore when he managed to convince you to be part of the crew. Your knowledge of herbs and medicines was just an excuse he used to get the captain to accept - and Roger knew Silvers Rayleigh enough to know it was just a pretext for you to get on board.

It didn't take long for the glances exchanged and toasts proposed to turn into hidden moments at Oro Jackson, kisses stolen when others weren't looking, that turned into a golden ring around your finger. Now, such moments had turned into a new life being generated in you.

"You should stay less agitated for now, please." Crocus asked. You had come up with a lame excuse for him to stay on the ship with you while the others had disembarked. "By my reckoning, these are still the first few months, it's the most sensitive period. Any more aggressive activity can bring risks."

"You will die?" Buggy's squeaky voice caught the two of you's attention. When you found the spot where the boy was hiding, you saw Shanks cover his companion's mouth.

"Nothing like that, come here." you leaned on the counter, calling out to the two who soon stopped in front of you. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"That you don't really know what to do, and that you need to be less agitated and that you're sensitive." Shanks took the lead, listing, Buggy came further behind, eyes attentive to your every movement.

The two boys already saw you almost as a motherly figure, always trying to hide and lean on you whenever they got into trouble, of course they would be scared to hear such loose information.

"I'll trust you two, but I want you both to keep your mouth shut." you bent down to his level. "I'm pregnant, but it's too early for anyone to know, okay?"

"Pregnant?" they both screamed and you covered their mouths. Further behind you, Crocus was deliberately laughing at the two boys' reactions. "Does that mean it's the baby that's hurting you?" Buggy completed.

"No one was hurt." the doctor took the lead, explaining to both of them. "A pregnant woman requires more care and is also more sensitive. Well, you knowing this can be of great help."

"What do you mean by that?" Just like you, the boys seemed to have doubt written all over their faces.

"Someone here loves to get into trouble, until Rayleigh finds out and can keep an eye on you, you two are responsible for it. No fights, no crazy adventures, no almost anything." the man laughed when he saw your indignant expression.

"I promise to keep her and the baby safe." Shanks puffed out his chest, taking pride in what he had said.

"What? I promise more than him." Buggy grumbled.

"As long as you both promise to keep quiet, that's fine with me."

When the two youngest saluted, you knew you were screwed.

It was difficult to disguise such a situation when in the following days the two of them became your shadow. The only time you could see yourself alone was going to the bathroom. If you went to your little corner to work, one of the two would be sitting next to you, following everything you explained to them - since they were there, they would learn something. In day-to-day tasks, one of them always set out to do his part. Rayleigh was already finding their little movement strange, but he knew how attached you were to both of them, so it wasn't something that bothered him.

"I'm going to take advantage of the fact that it's our last day here and I'm going to go down to the village, I need to get some materials." you announced. "Does anyone need anything?"

"Everything's fine here." Gaban warned and one by one, the other companions agreed.

"Wait!" a panting Buggy ran across the boat. "I'll go with you."

"Get out you fool, I'll go." Shanks shouted from the other side.

"Come on, the three of you, what do you think?" you suggested, before his little fight escalated.

"You two don't think you're stealing much of my wife's attention, do you?" Rayleigh proposed, seeing the two swallow hard and deny it. "Alright, enjoy the little walk."

It was supposed to be a quick visit to the island, if the boys didn't decide to start trouble with one of the sellers, you got in the middle and now you were lying on your ass on the floor - in the pushing and shoving, there ended up being a push for you while arguing with the seller . Before you could calm the boys down, you saw them running towards the ship, shit.

Rayleigh's attention was stolen when he saw the two crew members rushing into the Oro Jackson. Buggy burst into tears and insults directed at his friend, while Shanks seemed to be looking for someone specific. You, however, were not with them. It didn't take much to connect the facts.

"Where is she?" He approached the kids, completely ignoring them. "What happened?"

"A tragedy." Buggy, dramatically, started crying even more.

"You idiot! We can't tell them anything." Shanks poked Buggy, who immediately retaliated with a push.

"Crocus said we should keep an eye on her and now she's fallen and is going to die!"

"She fell?" Rayleigh was already impatient with their drama, unable to find any connection in their grumbling. "Explain this properly."

"It was just a fall, nothing big." the redhead tried to alleviate the situation.

"Boys, it was just a fall, she's definitely gotten herself into bigger trouble." Roger laughed, watching the two boys pushing each other.

"I don't want to know. Where's Crocus?" Buggy grumbled, ignoring the captain's own laughter and his friend's false calm temperament.

"What kind of fall was that for you two to be so worried about?" Rayleigh held out his hands, pushing the two boys apart by their foreheads.

"This idiot went looking for a fight." Shanks tried to reach the clown, stopped by the first mate's hand.

"And this idiot who doesn't know how to keep his tongue in his mouth." Buggy fought back, only hitting the air.

"First she said we were supposed to be quiet."

"You knock down a pregnant woman and I'm the one who has to stay quiet!" The words that came out of Buggy were able to provoke silence among the other pirates. "Shit!"

"She's going to kill us man."

"Where is she?" Crocus appeared, stopping in front of the boys and an astonished Rayleigh. "How did she fall? What's all that crying, Buggy?"

"Is she the pregnant woman?" Rayleigh asked in a much calmer tone than usual.

The hands were now no longer used to separate the boys, they just hung beside his body. Seeing the two kids swallow hard and look at each other, Rayleigh no longer needed any more answers.

"Rayleigh, Crocus go to her, now." Even with Roger's orders, Rayleigh was already heading in the direction of leaving the boat, not worrying about who would follow him.

Upon entering the village, it didn't take many steps for them to find you - only then did Rayleigh notice the doctor's presence. What was strange was finding you still lying on the floor, your elbows propped up to keep your face up while you were still arguing with the man in front of you. You didn't look hurt, you just looked mad at the man.

"It was just some herbs!" you shouted, excited.

"You idiot! If it was just some herbs, you should pay." the man shouted back.

Before you could respond, a body appeared in front of you and you didn't need much to recognize that it was your husband.

"What is happening?" his patient voice asked, looking at you over his shoulder. "I see that you seem to have problems with my wife."

"You see, she allowed two boys to steal herbs from my store."

"That is true?" he turned to you, finding a wry smile. Your permissiveness with the boys would still kill him. "How much does she owe you?"

The man spoke and almost as if predicting the problem, Crocus threw some coins to Rayleigh, who handed them to the man. A few seconds later, they were both around you.

"Did you get hurt?" the doctor asked, seeing your eyes dart from his to your husband's. "Buggy accidentally told him that little secret."

"Shit." your grumble was low, in a way you avoided looking at Rayleigh. "Maybe I spent my money buying some sweets for the three of us, but I needed those herbs too." you list, feeling your face burn with guilt and shame.

"Do you feel any pain?" Rayleigh asked, his voice almost forcing you to face him. Without finding words, you just denied it. "Great. Let's go back to the ship."

Crocus supported you by the waist and as soon as you stood up, you bitterly regretted having denied the question your husband had asked. The excruciating pain that shot up from your foot made you scream and fall forward, being held by Rayleigh.

"I was wrong, so wrong, what the hell." you grumbled, taking your aching foot off the ground. "It fucking hurts, it really hurts, Ray, do something." your teary eyes searched for his, who looked attentively in your direction.

"First I need you to calm down, sweetheart." he asked, wrapping his arm around you and providing even more support. "Crocus, what do we have?"

"Let me see." he bent down again, finding a swollen ankle. "It could just be a sprain or it could be broken, let's go back and that way I can see calmly."

"Go ahead, I'll take her."

The doctor took a few steps away and the two of you remained there for a few seconds, until Rayleigh took you in his arms and took you back to the ship. You knew he wanted to tell you something, but you also knew that that wasn't the appropriate place.

Before you could receive the necessary medical attention, you needed to calm both boys down. Maybe the explanation you and Crocus gave the two of them earlier had been too much for them to think that a little fight would bring you down. Rayleigh ushered them both out and closed the door behind him.

"When were you thinking of telling me?" he asked, still distant.

"To be honest, I still don't know." a light laugh escaped your lips. "They both found out by accident, hearing me talk to Crocus."

"I still can't believe those little idiots found out before me." his expression softened as he approached you.

"Are you mad at me?" His hands circled your waist, pulling you to the middle of the bed.

He gently created space for himself between your legs, taking care to place your bandaged ankle to the side. The fierce kisses this time were replaced by some caresses along your lap, some quick kisses on your lips.

"Furious?" His smile floated to your forehead, turning into a small kiss. "I just found out that the woman I love most is about to bear me a child. How can I be furious with such good news?"

His mouth once again met yours and despite the softness in which your tongues tangled, the gentle touch of his hand sliding down your side - curious fingers floating over the fabric on your belly - before your dress found a different path than your body, a small external noise caught the attention of both of you.

"Sure." Rayleigh pulled away just enough, allowing you to still feel his breath against yours. "You know it's Roger who's waiting, don't you?"

"Yeah." you laughed, seeing him groan as he let go of you.

"And that he's about to come out screaming with joy" he asked again and you nodded, trying to adjust yourself in bed and hide any evidence of what was about to happen.

Rayleigh barely opened the wooden door and Roger followed by other companions entered, a smile from ear to ear.

"A child!" He pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly. "Another crewmate for us! This is incredible, get ready today we're going to drink, we're going to celebrate."

"Oi! She can't drink." Rayleigh pointed out and saw Roger let go of you a little and then hug you tightly again.

"Then let's eat, eat a lot. I'm going to order an incredible feast!"

If before your concern was to escape the needy and attentive claws of Buggy and Shanks, now the two boys seemed to have found company. Your other companions - being practically led by Rayleigh made you feel adorable all the time. Even with your hormones screaming at the top of your skin, even with all the strange desires and the constant need to be attached to your husband, everyone seemed to be ready and happy to see you pregnant. Rayleigh felt proud and a little overprotective of you, no wonder, since you had already returned to the boat covered in blood that didn't belong to you just because someone had tried to rob you or when you almost convinced Roger to loot a village because you wanted cakes from a bakery that was closed when you docked. You still preferred to stick to your herbs, but that didn't mean you were harmless.

Little Arthur came into the world calmly and quickly, as if everything was meticulously planned for him to arrive on that peaceful afternoon. Even though you were still uncomfortable and tired after giving birth, you couldn't contain your laughter when you saw the two youngest members of the crew fighting over who would pick up the little one first. Knowing the affection and care attached to you, you proudly allowed the two of you to carry the title of little Arth's uncles - provoking yet another argument over who was the favorite.

The bonds between you and Rayleigh became even tighter after the birth of Arth and, shortly after, little Dalia. A few years after the gang broke up and Roger was executed and on that day, you and your husband stepped back from the role of parents and allowed yourselves to cry on each other's shoulders. The tears of pain at the loss of Roger soon turned to missing your eldest son, a fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and of course, Arth never let you two tell him everything you knew, he would find a crew so that together they could find the One Piece.

The door to your house opened and you saw a familiar face enter. A mother knows very well what each child's traits could bring and when you saw an almost identical copy of Rayleigh rush through the door, you knew it was your boy back. He had finally found a crew - one that carried a straw hat familiar to the one you knew.

"What?" the voice of his companions shouted in unison as Rayleigh properly introduced the two of you.

"You mean you know everything?" Usopp turned to Arth, who just shook his head. "Oh, that's a lot of information at once."

"We never told him anything." you explained, holding your third child in your arms, a girl who had just turned four years old.

"You said your parents were pirates, but you never specified which ones." Luffy pointed out, his mouth full of food.

"My parents already had their time, now they have other priorities." Arth took little Lure from you, the girl's laugh echoed throughout the room. "Just like this little one here."

"You only have these two children?" Nami asked, interested in the difference between you and Rayleigh to the white-haired child.

"In fact, only Dalia and Arth were born to me. Ray saved our little Lure from being sold to those damn nobles. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to save her family, but we took it upon ourselves to take care of her."

"And Dalia is also a pirate?"

"Not for now, but she's on an island with some of our friends, training." you simply informed, seeing that Arth had understood the message.

That same day, you saw your son disappear before your eyes, into the hands of the tyrant Kuma. Luffy looked desolate and you followed suit, both screams echoing through the damp Sabaody forest. Only when Rayleigh managed to drag you back home did you understand that your boy would be far away, safer and according to Kuma himself, with someone you both would trust with your eyes closed.

Almost two years have passed since Rayleigh took on a mission and left you alone on the island, taking care of what was left behind.

"Father?" Lure's voice caught your attention. At the door, Rayleigh crouched down, waiting for the white-haired girl to jump towards him.

"My sweetie you are so huge!" he let the girl hang onto him, filling the top of her head with kisses. "If I took a little longer, you'd be bigger than me."

"I missed you so much." she clung to Rayleigh, who was walking towards you. "Mommy too."

"I bet she felt it too." With one of his free hands, he circled your waist, lightly kissing your lips. "I hope two of my favorite girls are okay."

"Dad, did you know that Uncle Duval asked Mom to stay with him?" The girl laughed at the little gossip told, earning a reprimanding look from you, even if it was a joke.

"Uncle Duval, hm? I'll have a little talk with him." Rayleigh placed her on the floor, yet the girl remained there beside you, paying attention to everything.

"Just a friend of the Straw Hats, we took care of Sunny while you were gone. I even tried to start the plating, but I'd rather focus on my teas." You explained, allowing yourself to hug him completely. "How are things over there?"

"By things, do you talk about our Dalia?"

"Perhaps." the passive tone in your voice became even calmer when your face was buried in his chest. "I miss my little girl."

"She promised to come soon and she's doing great, she's been one of Kikyo's right-hand men. She's so strong, you'll be proud." he felt you nod against his skin, the distance of two years seemed too far for a quick hug to satisfy. "Want to know about Arth?"

"Have you heard from him?"

"Is little brother Arth coming?" Lure clung to Rayleigh's leg, watching her father. Even without the blood connection, the black king found it comical to say the least how similar you two had become.

"Not yet, my dear. And I haven't heard from him exactly, but rather where he is." Rayleigh began to explain, meeting your curious eyes. "I only received a small note."

He took it out and handed you the small crumpled paper. The tranquility that had been missing for two years invaded you as you read each word.

I hope this reaches you and your wife, Rayleigh-san. Knowing her, I believe she is distraught over Arth's disappearance. He has been training with me and I promise that I will keep that old promise to keep him safe. No clumsy clowns this time.

Shanks.

Shanks

warnings: F!Reader and Shanks don't have a fixed relationship at the beginning of the story, F!Reader has a restaurant. Maybe wrong use of haki, brief spicier section and brief mentions of childbirth. Shanks is an adorable girl dad here. Emony, in some language that I don't remember, is a name related to treasure.

"When are you going to go to sea with me?"

That question had already been repeated countless times every day that Shanks decided to stop at your restaurant. He always made up a little excuse that his crew was hungry and that no other place in that city would be able to fulfill his orders. He repeated every time you served dishes wearing the apron he said made you look amazing, every time he convinced you to stop working for a bit and share a dish with him, every time he was on top of you. you on the bed, as you asked for more and more.

However, every time the answer was the same.

"Give me a good reason red-haired, one other than me ending up in your bed, and I will."

You had already lost track of the times he did this, that he asked and you refused, that you shared hours together and the next morning he left you to return a few months later. This time however, it was difficult to lose track of time, as with each passing day, you discovered a change in your body. It started with irritability, then the aching body, nausea and finally, the positive test on your hand and your shocked family right behind you.

The whole city already knew that you were the redhead's favorite person and at that point, no one dared to mess with you or insinuate anything. Knowing how quickly rumors could spread, you chose to keep it a secret until it became impossible. The secret only lasted four months before his jolly roger appears on the horizon. Already knowing the routine he used to have on the island, you prepared yourself to soon find him entering the door.

"Finally, my favorite cook." his voice hit you before you even saw him. "Long time no see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while." out of habit, you allowed his hand to hug your waist, but you tried not to tighten yourself too much in his embrace.

"Everything is fine?" he asked, noticing your more distant behavior.

"Yeah, it's just been a busy day. What can I get you guys?"

"What's good on the menu today?" Lucky Roux asked, his typical piece of meat at hand had already reached its end.

"A fish stew, we also have some pies. Did you bring any new recipes for me?" You reached out to him.

Since the first time you met the red-haired pirates, you and him had gotten along well and the little deal was that he would always bring new recipes and in return, he was the only one who didn't pay at your family's restaurant.

"Spicy noodles and oysters with honey." he stretched out the two papers in his hand. "Two recipes, two dishes."

"Okay, you win. Anyone else want some stew?" the men piled in, affirming yes. Before you could leave, you felt Shanks' hand grab yours.

"Wait a second." a chill passed through your body as his eyes analyzed you. "You look different, I don't know. It's like you're even more beautiful."

"Don't give me those cheap lines, redhead." you warned in your playful tone. "A stew for you too?"

"The day I deny this could rip my other arm off."

Like the other times they appeared there, Shanks and the others stayed almost the entire day. Much of the food at that point had already been replaced by drinks, which forced you to practically dodge the glasses that were offered to you.

The restaurant was already empty, even your brothers who used to help you had already left, leaving you alone with the leftover dishes and tables to organize for the next day.

"It doesn't seem very gentlemanly to me to leave a lady alone." Again, just like that afternoon, you saw Shanks enter the door, ignoring the "closed" sign.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'll sort it out in a few minutes." You gave your best smile, seeing that he wasn't convinced.

"Then I can help you solve something else."

Not giving you much room to deny it or to at least try to address the issue that was hovering between the two of you, Shanks revoked his right over your mouth. Amidst the scattered tables and trying to turn off the light in the room so as not to attract so much attention, you went unnoticed by his hands taking off your apron and immediately undoing the buttons on your t-shirt. When the piece became a small puddle of fabric on the floor next to your apron and Shanks slid his hand down your torso, you realized that he had indeed noticed.

"What is that?" his voice was low, even though there were just the two of you there.

"I think you're smarter than that, redhead." you tried to alleviate the situation, seeing that it had been in vain.

"It's mine?" His eyes met yours, his serious expression made chills run up your body. Shanks was adorable, one of the kindest people you'd ever served at your restaurant, but he was still a pirate. "Hey, look at me, is it mine?"

"What do you think?" you responded immediately, seeing him take a few steps back. "I found out a few weeks after you left here last time, so far it's been easy to hide with dresses and aprons, but it looks like it won't last long."

"So it's mine?" he insisted, making you huff in frustration.

"The last time you came here, I remember you making me scream a few times that I was yours. I am a woman of my word, there is no one else who is the father of this baby but you."

His expression soon contorted from something serious to a slight smile that turned into a loud laugh. His hand found your face, stroking it with some delicacy.

"You told me you needed a good reason to leave with me." he started, seeing you already look disbelieved. "And no, I don't want you just in my bed. I want you by my side, forever. I want you to leave with me so I can make you my wife. To make you the mother of all my children." his hand reached down and caressed the bump on your belly. "This explains so much."

"So much, tomato head?" You let your hand rest on top of his, enjoying the affection.

"Your bad mood when you saw my face or you refusing to drink with me." He approached, pressing his face to yours. "You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"Shanks…"

"Please say yes."

He used that entire night to convince you to go on board with him and the next morning to help you pack your bags and head to his ship. When the other companions saw your face, they were in disbelief for a while until the true reason for your presence was explained, to everyone's delight.

For a moment, it was too much information for your head, learning a little about the life of a pirate, understanding what Shanks was like as a captain and the changes in your body seemed too much for you. It wasn't surprising that you had practically hijacked the ship's kitchen all to yourself and it was very common to find you in the early hours of the morning, up to something.

"What's the recipe for today, mummy?" Shanks appeared, his face still crumpled indicating that he had just woken up from a good sleep.

"A cake, that's all." you just responded, feeling him press himself behind you and slide his hand over your big eight-month-old belly.

"And what's the name of the cake?" He leaned over your shoulder, still caressing you. "Is it "I'm worried about my baby's future." or "The baby woke me up by kicking me in the ribs"?

"How do you know that?" you laughed, taking some of the still raw dough for him to taste.

"Delicious." he muttered before he could follow up on any thoughts. "Daddy's Haki. I always know what's going on with my baby."

"Oh, of course." you laughed and immediately felt the same pain that had gotten you out of bed a few hours ago and had been recurring in the last few moments. You knew what it was, you just wanted to enjoy the time you still had with your baby inside.

"Honey?" Shanks asked as he saw you lean your body against his and groan in pain. "My love, what is it?"

"Didn't daddy's haki help you this time?" you tried to laugh but the pain hit you again. Before you could continue your sequence of laments, you felt your dress and as a result of the proximity, Shanks got wet.

"No, it didn't help, it's happening now, isn't it? Hongo!" he started screaming, trying to pick you up.

"Shanks, what if…" your eyes moistened with anxiety and accumulated tears. "What if I'm a terrible mother? What if nothing works? What if I can't bring our baby into the world?"

"There's no what if." he pointed out, gently pulling your chin. "Look at me, we're going to bring our first child into the world and everything will be fine. Come on, it's time to meet our baby."

Emony was born after long hours of labor. The small tuft of red hair was identical to Shanks's and her cry was celebrated by the entire ship who had woken up with your screams of pain and with Shanks running back and forth behind Hongo.

The girl was a little copy of her father, from her red hair to her attitude, which made you constantly laugh - after all, at the age of five she had already declared that she was going after One Piece alone when you two gave her a little scolding for her coming out of hiding during a fight you were involved in. You should also anticipate that the girl's strength would be derived from her father and not hers. A break on an island meant having the two of you spotted by enemy pirates while you were taking a walk with little Emony. After trying to escape and fight, you both ended up surrendering, you were on your knees, a gun against your head and little Emony was lifted by the collar of her dress.

"My daddy is going to finish you off, your shit" she declared, trying to kick the man, completely in vain.

"Will he really do that?" the man teased her, seeing the girl become even more nervous. "I'll be waiting for."

"You know this is his territory, what do you want on this island?" you asked and felt the gun being pressed even more against your head.

"Take it away from my mommy!!" Emony screamed and you felt something different in the air.

The man who was pointing the gun at you fell, fainted, as did the other men who accompanied the pirate. Their captain let out a loud laugh, pressing his hand even tighter against Emony's dress.

"Haki? At such a young age?"

"Mommy!" the girl jolted towards you, seeing you get up and walk towards her.

"I suggest you take your rotten hands off my daughter." Shanks' voice came from behind the man.

By dodging a little, you can see the crew approaching. Benn was already pointing a gun, almost glued to the head of the tyrant who had his hands on your little Emony.

"This here?" he shook the girl dismissively, turning to face Shanks. "You know, lately the navy has been investing a lot of money in Yonko's children." the man threatened, a stupid smile adorning his lips. "What's your offer for the brat?"

"Lucky, Yassop?" Shanks just signed. "You guys take my girls inside."

Without waiting for the man to respond, the redhead punched him in the face and before Emony could reach the ground, Lucky caught her. The two of you were taken inside a small store, where some vendors offered water and a place to calm down.

"Where are my girls?" Shanks' voice reached the two of you, but your daughter ran to him, hugging her father's legs, who picked her up. "Are you hurt, my little one?"

"No daddy." she smiled, victoriously. "You see, I'm ready to be a pirate." the joy in her voice brought some peace of mind to both of you.

"I thought you were already a pirate." Benn, who accompanied Shanks, commented and got the girl's response by sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'm going to be the greatest pirate! Just like dad." she replied, shaking herself off Shanks' lap. "Come on Uncle Benn, I bet I beat you."

"Bet? Let's see." The first mate let the girl hit him a few times, laughing at her effort.

"And you, love, were you hurt?" Shanks stood next to you, holding your shaking hand.

"I just got scared. Shanks, she…"

"I felt it. That's how I knew she was in danger." he replied before the question even left your thoughts. "She's barely trained and can already do this? She's really going to be a great pirate."

"Babe…" your warning tone made it clear that this was not the time for him to encourage such ideas.

"Imagine, she's a captain? Our daughter has a big future. In fact, we know who she takes after." the man boasted, earning a shove in response. "I think she needs companions."

"She can arrange it over time."

"Or we can help." the mischievous tone was already almost inert to the way he spoke to you. "Just a few more babies, a first mate, a cook." He started to list, seeing you deny it. "But you look so beautiful pregnant."

"Forget it Shanks."

"Daddy, mummy!" Emony's voice drew you both in. You watched the girl pose as victorious, on top of a Benn Beckman, Lucky, Yasopp and Limejuice piled on the floor, pretending to be defeated. "I won!"

"Now I challenge you, my little fire hair." Shanks joined in the game, going over to the girl.

Maybe some brothers for Emony would be nice - and maybe Shanks would have given you a good reason to accompany him every time you saw him love your little daughter.

Law

warnings: angst, more angst, arguments with a fluff and happy ending. I mean, do I really need to inform you that our boy is going to freak out about the possibility of amber lead in his baby? Perhaps not very common uses of his DF, Law freaks out for a while, but then becomes the best dad in the world (we saw so little of Law with Lammy, but I bet he was an amazing brother and that he would be such a great girl's dad). And of course, Rosi comes from Rosinante. This text here is huge, sorry.

Being subordinate and companion to a captain who happened to be a doctor was one of the most practical things in your life. Did you catch the flu? He would solve it. Were you injured in battle? Just call the captain.

This meant not having any problems, especially after you decided to start dating. Law became even more attentive to every detail of your health, which made you realize that you didn't have much time to deal with the situation in your hands - more precisely, the situation in your womb.

The tests remained hidden in Ikkaku's drawer, with her being his only confidant at that moment. You wanted to know how many months it was, to be able to share such news, but you knew that as soon as Law found out, he would freak out and that's why you were avoiding him.

Avoiding, in the past verb, after all, he had already noticed something wrong between the two of you. Two knocks on your bedroom door startled you and your roommate.

"Hey." he looked dejected when the door opened, his attention automatically turned to Ikkaku. "Mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course captain." a pious look came from her towards you, before the woman disappeared from your field of vision.

Law, not knowing what to say, sat next to you. As you tried to grab his hand, you felt him move away. Damn it.

"How long have you known?" his cold tone dictated that he was probably not happy at all with the news.

"How do you know?" you answered his question with another, trying to buy time before the approaching storm.

"Today marks two months since you haven't asked me for help with any colic or complained about being sinking in a red river." he laughed, even though he didn't look happy. "By my reckoning, it's also been two months since that day in the kitchen."

Of course, the day in the kitchen. You and Law were always careful, even if you already used your contraceptive method, you preferred to use other types of protection. Except when you arrived at Polar Tang drunk and alone, which resulted in a unprotected sex session on the shared kitchen table.

"Quite a recipe we made." You tried to make fun of him.

"What do we do?" For the first time at that moment, you saw Law's eyes actually find you, worried and afraid.

"What do we do?" you repeated. "I'm pregnant Law, I don't know if there's much to do other than wait for the baby to be born."

"You know what worries me." his harsh response cut through any kind of excitement you held back. "You know very well what will happen to this child."

"What can happen." you corrected him.

"Would you rather risk waiting the nine months, giving birth and seeing your child die some time later? Sounds like a great idea to me." Cynicism echoed in his words just as your two voices were already much louder, taking your hatred to levels you didn't yet know.

"Would you rather I have an abortion and then spend the rest of my life wondering what if my baby had been born healthy?" his silence was the answer you needed at that moment. "You know what? Leave me on the next island, I'd rather take a risk and have my baby happy than have to abort it or even worse, my baby has to live with a parent who hates its existence."

"You don't understand what this could entail." He stood up too, trying to put something that looked like sense into your head. "You stay here until this is resolved."

"This has already been resolved and you don't need to have any involvement in my baby's life." you were sure the entire submarine was already listening to that argument between the two of you. "Get out of here, Law."

"But…"

"Get out of here!" you screamed even louder, seeing the man give up and leave. It only took a few seconds for Ikkaku to appear and allow you to cry for hours on her shoulder.

Anyone looking from the outside could see that you two were in pain. Law had become a shadow of the captain he was, only having small appearances to issue orders or to follow you - even without saying many words - every time you approached an island, fearing that you would leave the crew. Even though the two of you didn't talk anymore, you knew that his disappearance was related to studying everything he could about the disease that ravaged his country and was also present in him.

In the two months that had passed, Law had stopped being your boyfriend and practically become your doctor. Without exchanging many words, you only met when he decided to do some examination on you. To break the mood, you always took one of your friends along. The little information you had about Law came from Bepo, Shachi or Penguin, the only ones who were still able to invade his room and talk to him. Like that afternoon, when they insisted that you convince him to leave the room and have dinner with all his companions.

"Law?" two knocks on the door accompanied your voice. His tired look hit you immediately.

"How can I help you?"

"I wanted you to come have dinner with us." you tried to appeal to what you want. Many times, before pregnancy, that had worked.

"I am a little busy."

"I can bring something here." You suggested, approaching him. On the table, you saw accumulated papers, the vast majority of which titles were not related to Amber Lead.

"No need to worry, I'm fine." he simply replied, seeing that you were reading the papers on his desk. "I found some new studies."

"Law, I told you that you don't need to worry about that right now, we don't know yet…"

"When would you rather I worry?" the cynicism was once again there in his voice and he knew how much you hated it. "When you die on the table because for some reason this shit got to you? Or when I watch our baby die?"

"Now is he our baby?" you used the same resource as him. "From what I remember, I had made it very clear that I didn't want you to be involved in this."

"But it's my obligation."

"Your obligation as a father? I think you lost that right when you made it very clear that I had to take my baby away." you started to walk away from his desk. "Or your obligation as captain? As a boyfriend that isn't, I don't know what it's like to have a boyfriend for a good few months."

"I was busy, trying to find a cure for you two."

"We're both not sick." you sounded offended by what he had proposed. "But keep it up, sink into your books, don't worry when I disappear from this fucking submarine."

You left slamming the door, stressed. The looks that reached you seemed full of pity and concern. You only managed to get as far as the kitchen before a pang hit your head and stomach. Being supported by your colleagues, the only request you made was that no one tell Law about it. You wouldn't give him reason in his incessant search for something he didn't yet know.

Alleviating your worries, the diagnosis arrived quickly: just a spike in high blood pressure. A few hours of rest and an IV should do the trick. When you saw Bepo murmur an apology, you knew exactly what he was going to do and so did your friends, as little by little they left you alone. You remained turned away, even though you heard the door open. Something in the air had changed, it was as if you immediately felt more tense and prepared for another argument.

"Babe, can we talk?" Law's voice sounded much lower than normal, definitely attracting your attention. His affectionate way of calling you was an easy way to make you fall for his words. You turned around, facing him and started to adjust yourself to sit on the stretcher. "No, please, stay still there."

"I'm just going to sit down." You did so, your movement being followed to the millimeter by his eyes. "Just to be clear, I don't want to fight."

"I didn't come here for that reason." he approached, hesitating with every step he took. "Actually, I know you didn't want me to come here for any reason."

"I just don't want to have to hear from my doctor that I'd better have given up on the idea." you turned around, allowing your legs to dangle. "I understand your concerns Law and I would be lying if I said I haven't been terrified of the idea since I saw the first positive test."

"I know." He finally stopped a short distance away, but he still didn't touch you. "I… I-I, damn, why is it so hard?"

"Just let the words come, don't think about them." you suggested, figuring it was just pride keeping you from apologizing for all the previous argument.

"I-I feel like shit." a sigh came out along with the words. "You're right, as a boyfriend I've been terrible, as a doctor then, just look at the fact that you're in a hospital bed and the last person to be informed is me." his fists clenched and then loosened, his tattooed hands rubbed against his face, perhaps in an attempt to get the words out of him.

"Law?" your heart broke when you heard a sniffle come from him, it was the last gesture you expected after everything, it was difficult to connect the information like this.

"I can't lose you and I know it doesn't seem like it, I know I've been a terrible person, but I love this child. I can't lose this too." For the first time after so long together, you saw tears run down your loved one's face. His hands stuck to his hat, pulling in a failed attempt to hide his face. "I can't stop regretting saying that to you, what if our baby hates me for it? What if our baby knows that for a moment, even a small moment, I didn't want him or her to exist."

"My love?" You extended your hand, being accepted by him. Law fit between your legs and buried his face in your neck, even with the muffled sound, you only heard his murmurs and sobs.

"I'm sorry, please. For yelling and being an idiot." he asked, still not letting go of you. "I just can't deal with the thought of losing either of you."

"My dear, look at me." his irises remained almost hidden by the tears that accumulated at his waterline. Your hands dried his face and you didn't know how you weren't crying together. "We still don't know if our child will have amber lead disease, we don't know the scope of your fruit in the cure."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

"As I told you, wait. Make the best of this little time we have until the baby is born." you suggested while your hands traced caresses on his face. "And I just want, I need, my boyfriend back. I don't know how far I can go without you by my side."

"I promise to get better, I promise to take care of you." he replied, taking a deep breath and composing himself. With his hands rubbing his face, Law looked much more centered. "What happened today? When Bepo called me, he just told me it was a blood pressure problem and that you were resting."

"I said I want my boyfriend." you insisted with a smile on your face and saw a small ghost of what would be a smile on Law too.

Law first checked the serum that was being applied to you and then took off the hat he was wearing, placing it on your hair. With his face millimeters away from yours, he placed a quick kiss on your lips, followed by one more and another, until finally you gave way to him. The skin of his face was still damp against your face and your fingers caressed his scalp, the gesture he loved so much and god, how he had missed it. When Law pulled away, you almost pulled him back. Two months were too long apart - even under the same roof.

"I missed you so much." You confessed, not wanting to let go of his hand.

"I missed you too my love, I'm sorry for being such an idiot for so long." He sank against your skin again, this time stealing a few kisses along the way. "What do you think we make up for lost time?"

"That sounds interesting to me."

"No, no sex." he cut you off as soon as he saw you smile mischievously. "Room."

You were back in his room, now lying on the soft bed with gray sheets. Along with the two of you, only the serum and support tied to your skin had come. Law adjusted himself, sitting with his back against the wall and adjusting your body to be against his skin. You saw from the corner of your eye his hand go towards you and retreat, ignoring any complaint he would make, you pulled it back and placed it flat against your belly.

"I don't think you can feel it yet, but I've already started to feel some small movements. In fact, I thought I had stomach gas, until Ikkaku and I found a book explaining that it was the baby." You explained and looking over your shoulder, you could see bright gray eyes staring at you. "Right now, from what I feel, the baby is here." you slid his hand away, stopping next to your side.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, using his other arm to hug you even tighter. You nodded and saw him smile at the likely thought that crossed his mind before the words came out. "The other day, I accidentally spied on you in your room. I think you had just gotten out of the shower and were in front of the mirror."

"Oh no Law, I don't believe it." you laughed, already knowing what day it was.

"I think you spent about fifteen minutes posing in front of the mirror, caressing our child in your womb. God, you looked so beautiful, so radiant." he allowed himself to almost melt against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time, so much stuff."

"Can I tell you something too? I actually need to update you on a few things." you asked and felt his face move against your skin, nodding. "Did you know that our baby is already just like you? I can't even see a piece of bread before I'm ready to spill my stomach."

That night, the two of you spent a lot of time there. You telling him about the little news that Law had missed in the time you didn't talk and him explaining little curiosities to you, things that seemed incredible to him because they were happening in the body of the woman he loved and he didn't have the courage to tell you before.

In the fifth month - now with a new version of Law, one much more adept at the idea of being a father and much more attached to you. You were dragged by him to a small room, finding Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin sitting at the table waiting for you.

"What is that?" You sat down in the chair that Law arranged for you, he soon took the place next to you.

"You said you didn't want me as a doctor, so if you want and you have time to think about it, they will be your doctor."

"And you?" your voice was almost cornered, trying to connect the pieces of the situation that was presented. "Aren't you going to be at the birth?"

"I'll be there all the time and any problem, I'll take care of it. But I want to be there for you, for our baby. Instead of scalpels and speculums, I just want to hold your hand." Law chuckled as he saw your little pout that you made start to tremble. "Sound like a good idea to you?"

"T-This is in-amazing." despite Law seeing you get emotional, the loudest crying came from the other side of the table.

"Man, that was beautiful." Shachi was struggling, leaning on Penguin.

"It's so good that you guys are back."

"Idiots." the woman commented, turning to you. "Come on, tell me everything you expect from the birth of our little baby."

After spending the remaining months buried in books next to him, this time looking for good information and not just a cure for an illness, you learned that the stretcher was not a good place to give birth and that sensations were an important part of the process, in other words, goodbye Ope Ope no Mi's anesthesia powers. Law seemed to want to make up for the distance by always staying close to you and always reminding you how special you were to him, like when you looked adorable when the jumpsuit stopped fitting around your belly or when you and Bepo joined in complaining about the heat.

With the help of your own nature, the chosen doctors and Law behind you in that hot tub, your girl arrived into the world quickly and much less painfully than you thought. In the first few hours, little Rosi didn't let go of you and only when the water around the bathtub became cold did Law manage to take his focus off the little baby to take you two to a more cozy place.

In the early days, Law's hands seemed tied to Rosi. When the girl with eyes as gray as her father's wasn't on his lap, Law was following you like a shadow to ensure the health of both of you. Sometimes looking sideways, you could see Law observing every inch of the girl, in a constant search for signs of the cursed disease that had once taken his family from him. He would never allow that to happen to his little girl.

The worry lasted for years and there was never a sign of the disease or any other illness. Before, if everyone at Polar Tang had a strict health care schedule, with the arrival of the girl, attention redoubled.

Rosi was like seeing a mini-version of Law walking around, especially because of the copy of his hat that he had gotten for her. All the love that Law took to give you and her, when it was just a fetus inside you, the doctor seemed to make up for it with the girl, there wasn't something she wanted or asked for that he wasn't ready to do.

Rosi seemed to love accompanying her father in laboratories and studies, this seemed to change when she was once injured in an attack, in fact Rosi lost her balance with the Polar Tang speeding into the sea and ended up getting a cut on her forehead, patched by Ikkaku since Law was busy fending off enemies. That had been enough trauma for little Rosi to not want to know more about medical things.

"Please, my sweetie, it's just a small remedy." you tried to pull the girl out of the closet.

"No, no, no." she grumbled. The little gray eyes full of water. "It's going to hurt a lot."

"It won't hurt, my love." you insisted, seeing her deny it.

"My princess?" Law bent down, reaching her height. "Come on, this is to make you okay."

"Daddy, it's going to hurt a lot, I don't want it." she grumbled even more, knowing that Law was much easier to convince.

"Doesn't your throat hurt too?" he asked and the little girl nodded. "I promise it won't hurt anymore."

"But what about the injection?"

"Daddy also promises it won't hurt at all." he reaffirmed and saw the girl come out of hiding, heading straight into his arms. "Babe, she's a little feverish." he murmured to you, almost despair forming on his face.

"Law, it's just a cold." you warned him, following him as your daughter rested against his shoulder. You knew that when it came to Rosi's health, Law was the most concerned of all.

"Daddy, it's because I was lying on the ice with Bepo." the girl confessed the information, adjusting herself to reach Law's field of vision. "I'm just a little sick, that's it." she created a small space between her fingers.

"That's great, my love." He placed the girl sitting on the stretcher. "It means it'll only take that long for you to get better." he repeated the gesture she had made with her fingers. "Ready?" he saw her deny it, laughing. "Do you want mommy to hold your hand?"

"Yes!" She reached out her little hand to you. "Mommy, what is this?"

"It's dad's way of taking care of us." You tried to sum it up the best way. Maybe she was too young to understand how akuma no mis works.

"Ready? First take a deep breath…" Law imitated, holding the air for a while and making her laugh when she saw him puffed up. "And now…" he applied the injection to her arm. He knew it hadn't hurt at all, but the girl automatically started to pout. "My little princess, what happened? Did it hurt?"

"No." she said, her voice breaking. You both had to laugh when you saw her asking you to hold her without even moving the arm that Law had given the injection to.

"My love, what do you think…" Law bent down to look into her eyes as he spoke. "We can go to the kitchen and steal…"

"Bepo!" the girl stretched her arm towards the bear that appeared in the field of vision. "I want to be with Bepo."

"With Bepo?" Law pretended to be frustrated.

"He's warm and I'm cold." you passed the girl to Bepo, who was her favorite company. Law insisted that it was because the mental age was identical, but you always laughed at the accusations while the bear grumbled.

"What do you say we read a little?" Bepo suggested, letting Rosi climb onto his shoulder.

The two of you accompanied him to the living room, giving Bepo information about the girl being feverish. It only took a few words from the bear who started reading one of her favorite stories for Rosi to fall asleep. Law carefully took his daughter from him and started walking alongside you to the girl's room.

"I can't believe she chose to go with him."

"Well, you had just given her an injection, she harbored some resentment." you joked and saw him frown. "Maybe the next one will like us more than a huge, cuddly bear."

"Next, huh?" he spoke in a low tone, not wanting to wake the girl in his arms.

"Exactly. Or have you forgotten about the ten minutes hiding in your living room when Ikkaku was having a girls' night out with Rosi?" You saw his expression light up, a smile that you hadn't seen the first time you had this kind of conversation and that was one of your favorite things in the world.

"How long, is a month half?" he tried to hold back his louder, surprised voice.

"Yes, I took the test last week." you watched him open the door and place little Rosi on the pink bed. Before you could return to the subject, you felt him take you in his arms and lift you up, filling your face with kisses.

"I love you so much, I love you both." he put you down. "To be more exact, the three of you."

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rosequarzo · 4 months

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me and my husband

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • husband! blade + gn reader canon divergence established and married relationship ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 649 — catalogue

notes. the things i'll do if this man is real...

Husband! Blade who prefers to get married with only a few people he is familiar with. In fact, you could count them with one hand. There was only Silverwolf, Sam and Kafka. A certain general would have been invited, if your dear fiance didn’t burn the invitation before you could send it out. Needless to say, you played innocent and pretended you knew nothing.

Husband! Blade who treasures your presence and company in his life. No matter how much he tried to push you away, back when you were colleagues, you stood your ground. You were always there for him, witnessing him at his worst and best. You tried your best to engage him in conversations but it was futile, not when this man was as silent as a rock. He could forgo speaking for the whole day if he could.

Husband! Blade who finds himself taking note of the little things you do. Like how you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out a solution. Like how you bit your lips as you worked on your current task. Like how you fidgeted with your fingers whenever you were feeling nervous. Little did he know, that was how he began to fall in love with you.

Husband! Blade who is a man of actions. He may not say the special three words often but he makes up for it with actions instead. It became a habit for you to be greeted with tiny trinkets he bought after finishing his job. Sometimes; although rare, he might even craft them himself, should the occasion call for it.

Husband! Blade who doesn’t want kids for many reasons. Firstly, both of you are infamous criminals with your faces plastered on posters on every available surface. Secondly, he doubts he is mentally sane to be able to care for children. Thirdly, he doesn’t think children are a need to have a family. And last but not least, he doesn’t want you to forget about him.

Husband! Blade who can get jealous at times if you don’t pay attention to him. He wouldn’t voice out his thoughts and because of that, Kafka often uses it to her advantage by making you accompany her out on her monthly shopping spree, resulting in Blade following you from a distance, wearing a disguise which made him stand out among the crowd. He acts more like a sulking cat once you return home, so good luck trying to pry anything out of him.

Husband! Blade who will kill everyone and anyone that ever dares to lay a hand on you. Aeons forbid if you were ever injured, no matter how mild it was. It could be merely a scratch and that was enough for him to seeth in rage. He immensely swears his loyalty to you and he is willing to die for you, over and over if it means granting you a peaceful life.

Husband! Blade who is afraid of letting you out of his sight. It is a need to have you standing somewhere he can see, so he can ensure that you are out of harm’s way. He doesn’t want to be separated from you again, not after what he had gone through in his past. This man will do anything, even go against the whole world if it means you will remain by his side.

Husband! Blade who doesn’t show affection in public. The most he is willing to show is holding hands with you, that’s all. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was attractive whenever he guides you along with his gloved hand resting on your back. During the privacy of your shared home however, he becomes someone else. He always clings to you, hugging you from behind. This leaves you no choice but to waddle around like a penguin, with an adult man following you everywhere you go.

#୨୧ magazine articles #honkai star rail #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail blade #blade x reader #blade imagines #blade x you #blade x y/n

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mhsdatgo · 4 months

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By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.

#rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #anti daemyra #anti daemon targaryen #anti daemyra stans #team green #team black #anti viserys i targaryen #anti larys strong

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joshlmbrt · 4 months

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hi angel, im so excited to read your stories :)

would love to make an angsty Steve x reader request. im forever such a Steve Harrington girl 🥹

an angsty enemies (more like rivals) to lovers. they get roped into the upside down things together, and their mutual love for the kids really brings them together. over the seasons they get closer and closer, silently falling in love. then towards the end, something happens and they all get separated.. and they all think she’s dead? until they’re somehow reunited and realize she’s okay? and Steve’s just a wreck, completely inconsolable thinking that she’s gone. and even more of a mess when he finds out she’s alive?

…or is that stupid… 🥲🥲

Angsty Teens. ( s. harrington x reader )

【𝜗𝜚 warnings; enemies to lovers!!!!, canon compliant, r is dustin’s sibling, r makes a joke about a father leaving during the middle of the night, dustin & erica gets TIRED ( robin enjoys the banter ), they think r is dead, blood, long over-due kissy kiss, sort of changed it a bit - i hope that’s okay! NO ONE DIES! i don’t think there is any use of pronouns, but if there is, let me know!

【𝜗𝜚 an; oh, oh, this is NOT stupid AT ALL!!!! ( no request is ever stupid! ) i was just gonna do 1-3 but then …. i rethought and decided to do all four. i hope you enjoy and this is what you had in mind!!

1983

There’s something about Steve Harrington - Steve ‘King’ Harrington as many people loved to call him - that you hated.

You weren’t for sure what caused this deep hatred. Maybe it was the many girls who he kept wrapped around his finger and he just messed with them, loved to parade it around.

‘Look at me! I have someone, and you don’t!’

Or maybe it was the fact that he used to be your friend and completely ditched you for Thomas Hagan and Carol Michaels.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.” Eddie notes out loud, a small smirk on his face as he watches your face scrunch up in disgusted as the boy walks past with his goons and the girl of the month.

Nancy Wheeler.

Pretty. Pristine. Good grades. Never in trouble.

Her poor friend Barbra Holland - also known as Barb - was following behind quietly, books tucked close to her chest.

“Shut up,” You grumble to Eddie, slamming the locker door shut. “Hey, Barb!” You wave, giving her a kind smile.

Her head towards yours, waving with a small smile. She continues to follow behind Nancy.

You sigh. “I don’t get why he goes from girl to girl.”

“Well, he seems pretty serious about her.” Eddie shrugs, walking out with you.

“He seemed serious with Vanessa, Tiffany, Erica, Monica, and-”

Eddie clasps a hand over your mouth. You stare at him with wide eyes. “Okay. Okay,” He breathes, removing his hand. “I think I know why you feel this way.”

“What way?” You open the passenger door to Eddie’s van and slips in. He shuts the door for you, jogging to the other side.

He opens the door. “Jealous.”

You sputter on words. “What?! Me? Jealous? You cannot be serious!”

He slips into the car, shutting his door. “You had a small crush on Stevie boy and then - boom - he suddenly gets popular overnight with his big hair and nice polos.”

“Okay, first,” You hold up an index finger. “Gag me with a spoon. Secondly, I am not jealous. I could care less who Steve Harrington dates. He’s just. . . a boy.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just hate that he leads everyone one, making them think he cares for them, then - bam - he’s gone like a father who leaves in the middle of the night.”

He purses his lips and squints his eyes at you. “I feel like you just related Steve to your father.”

“I did.”

He hums, nodding and turning in his seat. “Alrighty, then.”

ও

NOVEMBER 24TH 1983

There’s a knocking on the door that causes you to flinch and Nancy turn quickly, high on alert.

You’d never guess you’d be fighting faceless monsters with your brother and his small friends, plus Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers.

“You don’t think they knock, do you?” You breathe out, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple.

“Jonathan! It’s me, Steve! I just- I’m not looking to cause any trouble, I just wanted-” Nancy is marching towards the door, opening it only a crack. His bruised face is confused when he sees the girl. “Nance? What-what are you doing here?”

“You need to leave.” Is all she says.

His eyes dart over her face, shaking his head. “What are you doing here? What happened to your hand?” His eyes peek over her head and you gulp once they land on your face. “What’s she doing here? What’s going on?”

He pushes his way in, stumbling a bit. He stands straighter, eyes moving over all the lights in the home.

“What is all this? What’s-”

“Steve,” Nancy says, catching his attention. He looks over at her, holding his hands up quickly.

You quickly step in front of Steve without thinking. “Nancy, what are you-” She cuts you off.

“You need to leave. And now.”

“Nancy.”

“I don’t understand what is going on! You all are acting craz-"

“Nancy!” Jonathan finally catches the attention of you all, he places his finger on his lips. “Listen.” He whispers.

Everyone goes silent, eyes lifting towards the roof.

“This is crazy. . .” Steve whispers to himself. “This is crazy! This is crazy!”

He rushes towards phone, picking it up. Nancy yanks it from his hold, slamming it back down. “Leave. Now. While you have the chance.”

And of course, Steve leaves, the door slamming behind him.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head.

The lights cut off, before flickering. You freeze, eyes darting around.

“Nancy!” You call out. “I can’t see anything! What’s-” A scream leaves your lips, your legs getting lifting from the ground, the blood flowing down to your head quickly.

“Oh, my god! Oh, no! Please! I don’t want to die!” You didn’t feel like you were going to die, but. . . with these things? You never know.

Your dropped onto your back, your breath being knocked from your lungs. A hand grips your shoulder pulling you up.

“Come on!” A voice eerily similar to Steve yells out. You check over your shoulder, before heat suddenly licks up your body.

You flinch back from the fire, staring down at the flames.

“Do you think it’s dead?” Nancy whispers. Jonathan steps forward, her hand shooting out quickly to grab at his arm.

“I’m just checking.” He says. She nods hesitantly, dropping her hand. He kneels down in front of the trap, watching it bubble.

“I think it’s dead.”

ও

Dustin’s head was laid over on left your shoulder, Lucas’ head occupied your right shoulder. Your arms were fuzzy but you weren’t going to complain.

Happy Will was alright and all the kids were fine. . . besides the poor girl who had grown on you.

Jonathan steps into the room, a small smile on his face. “Guys,” Mike was the only one away, slapping at Dustin’s arm. “Will’s awake.”

Mike stands from the seat, slapping both their shoulders now. You laugh softly, shaking your head as both of them startle awake.

“Come on! Will’s awake!” Mike cheers. Dustin grins, shooting up from his seat, Lucas following behind him down the hall to his room.

You’d go visit him later, allowing the boys to have their own time.

You stand from the seat, yawning as you walk towards the water machine, grabbing a small paper cup and filling it.

“Uh,” There’s a throat clearing behind you and you turn around. Steve Harrington. “Thanks for. . . not letting Nancy shoot me.”

“That’s only because I want to,” You shrug. “Not to help you.”

Lies. It’s still in your nature to care for your old friends and it’s tiring. Especially when they wouldn’t do the same for you.

Except, Steve had taken care of you. Made sure you weren’t eaten.

His lip quirks at the corner and he nods. “Right.”

You nod, lifting the cup to your lips, chugging it all. He nods a bit again, turning and making his way towards the door.

“Uh,” You wipe the corner of your lip off. You watch as he stops and turns towards you. “Thanks, too. I guess. For, uh, saving me?”

He nods and smiles a bit. “Anytime.”

ও

1984

You curse yourself for feeling bad for Steve as he watches Nancy stand next to Jonathan, her hand placed on his head.

He steps towards the back door, sitting down on the small step. You sigh a bit, looking out the window above the sink.

“Go talk to him,” There’s a nudge at your side. You turn and look at Dustin. “You know you want too.” He grins.

“Oh, shut up. I don’t want too,” You grumble, turning away and resting your back on the counter. “Why did you even get Steve in the first place?”

He squints his eyes at you. “You were on a date.”

“So? Couldn’t you have called someone else?”

“He was just there,” He says. “Literally.”

You let out a sigh, looking at your chipped polish. “I come home to you and Steve chopping up cubes of steak. It was weird.”

He rolls his eyes. “Go. He’s. . . he needs a friend.”

“You both are friends now,” You lift a brow at him. “Why can’t you go talk to him?”

“Because you know him better than me,” He shrugs. “Than anyone really. Weren’t you both best friends?”

“Key word: were. We aren’t anymore.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you know him better than anyone.”

You frown - because Dustin is right. The little brother who you had taught to be nice to everyone, kill them wiyh kindness even, was giving you the same talk you’d give to him if it was between him and one of his friends.

You sigh and push yourself off the counter. “Fine. But don’t think I’m going to listen to you all the time just because I do this one time.”

He grins cheekily at you, despite all that has happened tonight, and makes his way towards the table and sits down.

You inhale deeply before exhaling, stepping outside now. You shut the door, stepping next to Steve and placing yourself next to him.

You stay quiet, eyes staring at the small building in the back.

“You didn’t have to come out here, you know?”

Your head reels back at the bite in his tone, a frown on your face as you turn to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You rub your lips together, wanting to keep everything in.

“Just because your girlfriend doesn’t care about you anymore, doesn’t mean you can just snap at other people. It’s not an excuse,” You snap back. It was a low blow, really. Especially after learning what actually happened at the Halloween party. You stand from your seat.

“You are not going to speak to me that way. I won’t allow it. I came out here to see if you were okay, but. . . I can see that was clearly a mistake. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t love you anymore.”

Your cheeks are flushed red with anger and you walk past him, your dress hitting your thighs as you make your way towards the back door. He calls out your name, but you don’t stop and listen to him.

You shut the door.

ও

1985

Your head slams into the metal wall, a groan leaving your lips. “Booby trap.” You whisper to yourself.

“What?” Dustin murmured.

You stand slowly from the floor. Dustin stands next to you. “The canisters that Steve pulled out was a booby trap,” You narrow your eyes on him. “Why would you do that?!” You throw your arms up.

“Do you think I meant for us to get stuck down here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Because you never think!”

“Like I wanted to get stuck on an elevator with you!”

“Oh yeah?” Your brows furrow. “I had a date after this and now I won’t be able to go! Because of you pulling out that stupid canister! I mean, really?! Who pulls something out of a box that comes from Russians?!”

Erica leans towards Dustin. “Oh, they hate each other.” She whispers.

Dustin shakes his head, Robin does as well. “No, they don’t.”

“It’s the angsty teen, enemies to lovers plot.” Robin whispers, fingers giddily fiddling together. Erica furrows her brows. Robin cuts her eyes over to the confused girl. She then quickly looks back. “You’ll understand when you read Pride and Prejudice.”

“Pride and what?”

“Prejudice. It’s a-" Robin looks at Erica who has a brow lifted. She stops, lips rubbing together. “I don’t have time to describe it.”

Erica hums, turning towards you and Steve once again. “You know what,” You grumble. “I’m through with arguing with you! You never change!” You throw your arms up, stepping towards the center of the room.

“Dustin,” You say his name. He’s standing next to you in an instant. “Help me up there. I’m going to see if we can climb our way out of this. . . this literal hell. Especially if it has him in it.” He nods and pulls a chair over. You step on top of it, reaching up and pushing the tile up and over. You grip the sides, grunting as you pull yourself up.

You slide back before standing up, pushing your hair back as you stare up, hands on your hips.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You’re all stuck there.

ও

Your forehead is resting on your knees, eyes closed as you rest on top of the elevator.

It had been quiet the whole time, Dustin trying to get ahold of anyone. But of course, no one was answering.

You almost cry at the feeling of being stuck.

You feel someone’s knee bump into yours, and you know who it is before they even speak.

“Are you, uh, okay?”

You huff out a small laugh. “Oh, yeah,” You nod, lifting up your head. “Perfect. I love being stuck in an elevator with no way out.”

He looks down, fingers intertwining together. “It is my fault. I’m sorry.”

You sigh a bit, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault,” It pains you to say it, but it’s right. It’s not his fault that he pulled out a canister filled with mystery green goop. “We just know now that Russians can’t build elevators now.”

He snorts. “That’s exactly what I said.” You smile a bit.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean what I said,” You let out a sigh. “I was just. . . angry.”

He nods a bit. “I understand,” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I promise to listen to you next time.”

You lift a brow. “Oh, that’s going to be so hard for you, Harrington.”

He nods and scoffs. “Definitely.” You give him a small smile.

Your heart feels a bit warm at the interaction.

ও

1986.

“Steve!” Dustin cries out, his knees digging into the unnatural ground. “She’s. . . She’s not waking up!”

Steve drops the bags, Nancy almost stumbling over the thing before coming to a stop. He jogs over, dropping to his knees.

The color had drained slightly causing Steve to worry. “Okay, move.” He pushes at Dustin’s hands. Dustin looks up at him with a worried express, tears falling down his cheeks and onto your shirt.

“What are you going to do?”

“CPR.” He nods, his hands moving onto your chest.

“You-you know how to do CPR?” Dustin’s voice wavers. Steve nods, huffing as he mutters numbers. He leans down over your mouth.

He lifts back up, pumping once again. After four times, tilts your head back, unhinging your jaw more. His lips press to yours, blowing into your mouth.

Dustin’s eyes dart between you both, eyes wide with worry. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie stand behind him watching.

There’s a deep greedy inhale that has Steve pulling back, allowing you to breath in the air. He pulls you up, hand pushing back your hair.

“Hey, hey. . . God,” He mutters to himself. His hand trails down your back. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Dustin throws his arms around your neck. You wrap an arm around his side, patting his back. “Steve saved you.”

“What?” You pull back.

“I didn’t.” Steve quickly denies, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie shakes his head. “You absolutely did.”

“No, I-”

“Could everyone give Steve and I a minute please?”

Everyone’s eyes dart to you. “You’re not gonna kill him are you? We just literally survived this whole thing.” Eddie shakes his head.

“No, I’m not. Now please, give me a minute alone with Steve.” They nod, making their way towards the trailer.

“Look, I’m sorry about mouth to mouth. I had too, you were-"

“Steve,” You cut him off. “It’s fine. I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would I be mad about you saving me?”

“Because you. . . hate me?”

You let out a small sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“I did,” You say. “But not anymore.”

He smiles a bit, pushing some of the strands of hair that had fallen back to your face. “I’m glad.”

You stare up at him quietly, moving to your knees in front of him. He gulps slightly.

You press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, hands moving up to cup his face. “Thanks for saving me.”

His own hands press to yours on his cheeks. “Anytime.”

You grin and lean in again, pressing your lips fully to his this time. He gladly allows you.

Robin grins as she peeks through the window with Dustin.

She leans closer. “Told you.” She whispers.

Dustin makes a face and looks over at her. “Told me what?”

“Pride and Prejudice, my tiny friend.”

【𝜗𝜚 thank you for reading! comments, feedback, likes, & reblogs are encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated!ও

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #joe keery x reader

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faeriekit · 2 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

#*hip checks through the door* hey losers! Guess who uses Arabic numbers!! Two earths!!#also if ANYONE is shitty about stoma bags or ostomy bags on this fic or in this chat I'm going to fight you. Lots of people have them.#they're usually a temporary procedure and even if they're not they're pretty normal and a lot of people have them. I knew at least one #like haha this is a body horror fic but ostomy bags are a REAL THING that people HAVE as part of their medical journey DO NOT be rude!!#So what we know of his injuries now: messed up legs. Messed up guts. Messed up chest. Is there more...? Who can say. 👀#health and hybrids #dp x dc #dcu crossover #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #incarceration to elopement to healthcare pipeline #His healing is speeding up and his language is getting better! When can we get a Diana POV?? <- me to me

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

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littledead-ridinghood · 10 months

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sorry if this is a weird question to drop on you you were just the first person I thought of who might know but do you know if it's canon/canonically-based evidence that jason is physically stronger than other bats because I always see people say jason is the one with "brute strength" and I can't remember if that's based on anything besides people saying that as a nicer way to call him a brute(maybe it was on lobdells stuff? but I wiped most of those out of my memory)

You thought of me first? <333333 I'm blushing. And it's not weird at all! Even if it was, I love answering weird shit.

Anyway:

So part of Jason being considered "the muscle" of the bats comes from the fact that Jason's currently the biggest of the robins. (Adult!Damian is usually drawn as the tallest of the kids when all is said n' done (that's vague for "age")).

Well, how big then?

I always go with this chart which was released while UtRH was being released:

(I Love this! I wish DC still did little info things like this within their comics. Or maybe they do and I'm just blind. But Look! Canonical Information!)

So canonically speaking, at least when running around pre-crisis, Jason is 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. (Also note criminal mastermind and put a pin in it)

But you've probably heard 200 & 220 thrown around a lot. Those numbers are specifically pulled from two different DC character encyclopedia books which I don't trust at all because there notoriously filled with false information and are dubbed as not canon all the time.

Personally, I use the 6', 180-195 pound range which estimates for fluctuating weight, the passage of time, muscle mass, and minimum bulk & cutting (which I assume is part of most superheroes' training to stay in fighting form, but please recognize that vigilantes are more athlete than bodybuilder) because it's from a canon source (Canon is "king" and all that). No shame to people who use the other numbers or even headcanon something completely different, but again, vigilantes are predominantly running all over cities day after day, not stagnant weight lifters. Cardio vs weights body compositions are quite different even if both are healthy. (And it's not all "swimmer's body illusion" either (they have that body because they swim? No, they swim because they have that body.)

How much muscle mass a person can maximally obtain is up to your genetics. But that max only comes with constant maintainment. It's not feasible for Jason to be doing all that cardio and also have that much muscle mass and fat. Cardio burns "fat" (calories), weights build muscle. We constantly see the former and former-adjacent workouts more than the latter with him. Jason is running across rooftops, flipping off them before falling into a shoulder roll onto the next roof over chasing after bad guys every night. The number of calories he'd have to eat and time put into lifting weights (too many reps a week lead to damage, not growth) to maintain his max (max being what a lot of weights category athletes try to achieve which Jason just hasn't been shown to be (except in his jailbird phase where he could literally only lift weights, read, and avoid being killed to pass the time)) isn't possible.

Using comic art to "prove" how much he weighs doesn't work either. Firstly, because everyone wears weight differently. Two people can be the same height, weight, and sex and look completely different. This is due to different body types, composition, genetics, diet, (what kind of) exercise, and many other factors. Assuming someone thinner is automatically "super light" doesn't factor in different body compositions (fat, muscle, bone percentages). (yes, I know it's stupid to apply science to comics. There's my digression. let me live). Secondly, Jason (just like everything else about him) isn't drawn consistently at all. Sometimes he's pretty damn massive, but we also have Twink and Twunk Jason (DC can't even decide on hair color? Do you think they're gonna decide on his body?).

So, comic book art isn't super reliable as evidence unless we want to theorize if, how, and why he seems to fluctuate between weights all the time (<- Which I have a whole headcanon about if anyone's curious), especially in comparison to the others because, seriously, it's totally a Jason thing. Most characters are pretty consistent in body type. Anyway, someone could argue "See! he is 210!" but it's also not for a long enough period to stick around :/ Again, hard to consistently maintain that much weight as a 6-foot-tall, cardio-based athlete.

Also note: DC is horrible when it comes to weight-to-height lineups. A woman hero can be ~5'7'' and then we're told she's 110 lbs which Fact 1. is considered underweight for this kind of height-to-sex ratio, Fact 2. probably isn't factoring in the fact that muscle is heavier than fat, she just "looks thin", and 3. Usually, totally, absolutely is just blatant sexism.

Really, the numbers don't seriously mean anything of actual substance because their comics, are unreliable, and also usually just...scientifically wrong. But Jason's perception on page, as well as the information we've been told, is one reason he's considered "brute strength first and foremost."

Furthermore, Jason has been shown repeatedly to be on par with Bruce (even when Jason, most of the time, plays defense in their physical fights) but many people chalk this up to him and Bruce having similar physiques making it "easier". Again, counter-productive argument because Bruce and Jason have been drawn very similarly before in stories as well as completely different from each other in others. Also, this purposefully, blatantly ignores Jason's actual skills. No one chalks Dick Grayson or Cassandra Cain beating Bruce up to their body types. Moreover, when Bruce and Jason are drawn similarly in body, no one refers to Bruce as "Brute Strength" either. Bruce gets to be tactical, strategic, clever. (Also Also: In Pre-Crisis, Bruce, Dick, and Jason are deliberately drawn to look similar (height, mass, looks, etc.) to get that Brothers in Blood effect. Still, No one chalks the formers up to all strength. Just Jason)

And that brings us to your question, Anon: Is there canonical evidence for Jason being stronger than the other Bats?

Remember how I told you to put a pin in that "Occupation: Criminal Mastermind" note? Well, first off, Jason creating jobs for his community. Go off, king. Second off, and more importantly so, "Mastermind": a person who supplies the directing or creative intelligence for a project (Merriam-Webster).

When Jason was first re-introduced, what made Jason dangerous was that he was highly skilled and smart. He was playing with both Black Mask and Batman like a cat batting a toy mouse. He orchestrated an entire "slow-growing" takeover of Gotham's underworld (he was actually very quick about it). Jason controlled the situation and planned so well that he had the villains and heroes who were both after him fighting each other so he could slip away and do what he actually needed to do.

Throughout Jason's history, he's always had tools with him when he fights. To the point that Bruce says to Jaybin "You won't always have this" cutting his utility belt, insinuating he relies too much on it, which Jason returns the favor to on his return and fights B hand to hand <3 Love a cocky callback. Furthering this, he knows many, many different fighting styles and techniques both from life experience and from extensive training. Jason's a quick learner by nature and is incredibly adaptive. Guns; knives; swords; pens; sets bombs to specifically implode, not explode; makeshift gadgets; a baseball bat just laying around; a tire jack that one time; brains. I could go on. Jason doesn't just hit things. He uses what he has as a means to an end. He's canonically known as one of the best strategists in-universe and is incredibly creative with his surroundings. Jason isn't just great at extensive, long-term planning either. Bruce himself has remarked on the fact that Jason thinks incredibly quickly on his feet, he's really good at improvisation. Concisely, he has plans A-G and if all those fail, he can pull something out of nothing. Contrast this with Bruce who needs to have a plan for everything. Even if it doesn't look like he's following a plan, Bruce is. Opposed to Jason who can go with the flow and figure it out along the way.

Jason even said this in present-era in TFZ:

And that's the whole point, isn't it? Jason is strong. Incredibly so. He's big and tall and has gorgeous thighs. Not to mention, has a mean right hook. But just because Jason's strong doesn't mean he isn't a bat first and foremost who relies on his brain before anything else. He died 4'6 (on his death certificate, his height varies depending on what source you pull) and famously had to defend himself his entire life ever before being Robin. Being young and small and forced to survive shaped Jason into a quick thinker who could either get away or take enemies 10x his size down. Nowadays, he just has a longer reach.

In Event Levithan when Damian says: "Jason Todd is one of the Great Master fighters of all time" He doesn't say strongest because Damian doesn't mean strongest. Damian means adaptable, smart, capable, and well-rounded in skill.

While I don't doubt that Jason is most definitely one of the strongest Bats due to his size, what makes Jason dangerous is not his body, but the fact that he knows how to use it. It's not "Brute Strength" as many people like to say, it's Strategic Strength. He knows just because he's stronger than someone doesn't mean he'll always win. A la see panels above. Jason knows throwing his body around won't do anything of real, long-term substance. That it's just blindsided and stupid.

I'm sure if I looked I could pull panels where other bats and/or vigilantes refer to Jason as the muscle, brute (strength), all brawn (no brain), other such implications, etc, but whenever people do, it's always to undermine Jason's skill. Because it's not actually about his strength. Jason, with his taller, more built form, makes walking quiet seem easy. And it looks easy because he's good. Jason himself knows his skill set, it's everyone else that undermines him time and time and time again. (Again, Event Levithan, Bruce doesn't agree with Damian's statement even though Jason just outsmarted the six or so people who all just tried to take him down (for something Jason didn't even do, mind you))

But, again from Damian, Jason's not known as "the muscle," he's "the emotional one" also usually used to...degrade Ja--We can't have anything nice apparently is what I'm saying. But yes, when people refer to Jason as "Brute Strength" it's usually them trying to find a nicer way of saying Brute or "thinks with his fists" or "Jason hits first, asks questions later." It's in the same vein as when people say "Jason likes books" as short-hand for "see, he's smart at something" rather than acknowledging that Jason achieved a degree's worth of knowledge in comp-sci by age 13.

Anyway Smart and Strong Jason, my beloved. I wish DC & others loved you as much as Rosenburg and the teams of artists he's been working with do.

#jason todd #jason todd meta #every thought I have has a 2nd secret thought behind it and I've been trying to be better about not rittling my metas w 2nd thought->(...)

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variousqueerthings · 4 months

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something very aromantic coded in s2 of good omens is that crowley and aziraphale canonically take their cues of what a certain kind of relationship ought to look like from books and films. firstly, very relatable, I did much the same thing throughout my teens (and in some ways still do although I'm not trying to make myself "fit" by taking cues that I've been studying to be the correct way to do a relationship, I just enjoy performing them in the same way all life is performance when you're not-doing-body-and-relationship-to-other-bodies correctly inherently)

secondly, how it plays out in them messing unintentionally with nina and maggie. they don't understand the structure of nina's and maggie's whole thing as it applies to the reality of relationship structures in the world they're in; that nina is initially in a romantic relationship and wouldn't just jump from it -- no matter how bad -- straight into another one that was presented as "more" correct. because of course standing under an awning or dancing at a ball makes people "fall in love" (whatever that is) because... well, that's how it happens in the stories all the time, that's what these sorts of relationships are all about, "one fabulous kiss and we're good" -- it's a shock to crowley that he misread all the cues "you were crying and she was..." isn't that what this romance thing is that humans are always talking about????

thirdly it of course eventually circles around to be about what in the world their relationship is, but when they're trying to figure out what's going on between the two of them, there aren't any words that can neatly sum it up beyond "us" -- whatever it is, it's "us" against "them" (although aziraphale isn't quite ready for that) -- the them being heaven and hell of course, but to be honest, from an aro perspective, the "them" takes on certain human connotations to me as well, because it's all about how these two don't fit into structures and are punished for this not-fitting-in, and while they're not punished by the humans around them, they also aren't... human. they still operate somewhat from the outside of everyone else, even though aziraphale manages throughout history to create a fair few connections from the sounds of things

similarly to how they do it to nina and maggie, they try on these tropes with one another: aziraphale invites crowley to dance, crowley kisses aziraphale, and it doesn't fit quite right (the first because crowley is concerned with all the demons outside and so isn't paying as much attention to the dancing part of the whole thing, and the second because [insert another bunch of analysis here that's its own post]), but they've already been us the whole time. their attempts at explaining using alloromantic shorthand fall short, because they're hampered by needing to define themselves and their relationship with terminology that's suitably correct for whatever dominant structures they're in

fourthly, the fact that their cues for what their relationship needs to be shouldn't even really be coming from movies/books and humanity in the first place, it should be coming from gabriel and beelzebub. gabriel and beelzebub don't even try all of that "this is what romance is," they don't call one another romantic or kiss or even say words like partner, they're not interested in doing human-based customs or "fitting in." their language for one another is based around that song, and that's as much defining as it needs. whatever aziraphale and crowley are to one another is equally all their own thing, but aziraphale and crowley struggle with definitions constantly. they don't fit into heaven, they don't fit into hell, and humanity -- while more the place they've adopted for all its wild wonders -- isn't quite right either, because they're still being put in a box

it was fun to look out for as I was rewatching, because the way they interacted with alloromanticism really did read like two people who have exactly zero idea of how this applies irl, but that's okay, the fiction's got it handled, all they have to do is copy-paste = result, but then the stuff that actually is the romance in those texts becomes a series of contextless tropes, kind of like how amatonormativity often has those exact same tropes recycled in story after story that can't figure out why it worked the first time but not the next hundred times, except in this story it's on purpose. one fabulous kiss did not in fact solve things at all (nor was it fabulous)

#good omens #anthony jemima crowley #crowley #aziraphale #a/c #aziracrow #been going forwards and backwards on whether to tag but i think that's just the struggle we as aros always go through #yes they're ineffable and yes that means they're too big to be described #but a slash will do the trick for now #good omens meta

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grimrester · 2 months

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i love farcille but i have Thoughts

i don't think marcille is even close to accepting any romantic feelings towards OR from falin by the end of the manga, or even in the supplemental comics set after the manga.

marcille has huge issues and misconceptions around age. part of her still sees falin as the young girl she met in school. when she hears about falin and laios's parents' age, she immediately calls them "those kids." she's objectively wrong here, but her perception of time and maturity is totally warped. she uses her own numerical age as a benchmark for maturity - with her own current age representing "totally 100% mature." anyone younger than her is "a kid." this is completely flawed thinking in two ways. firstly, half-elves age differently and inconsistently, so her numerical benchmarks don't make sense for literally any other race. secondly, marcille is NOT MATURE.

she spends half the manga whining about what she has to eat to survive. she repeatedly endangers her teammates to selfishly prove her worth. she clings to doing things by the book to the detriment of her own growth and her relationships with other people. she pouts when people don't want to do things her way. hell, just in day-to-day personal interactions, falin is more mature than marcille by a long shot. and yet she sees herself as more "adult" than falin.

falin, who understood early on that her parents did their best to protect her with the resources they had, even if they didn't always communicate it well. falin, who rejects shuro's second attempt at a proposal with such nuance, kindness, and grace that he smiles afterwards. falin, who withstood bullying from her peers at school and from adults in her village for years and came out of it with kindness that can exorcize zombies with a hug.

in order to accept any feelings she has for falin or vice versa, marcille would first have to recognize that falin is not a child compared to her. and there are times she comes close. falin, in her eyes, is almost superhumanly kind to the point of near worship. but she still sees falin as silly or childish because falin doesn't make the same practical choices that marcille would. ironically, those choices are typically driven by falin's kindness or love of all things living. and falin is too conflict-avoidant to tell marcille directly that she's wrong.

i don't think that a romance is impossible between them, though. i think it'd just take either emotional growth on marcille's part, or possibly even growth on falin's. while falin canonically doesn't push back on marcille's assumptions at all, she's also not so passive that she couldn't ever push back. we see pretty early on in the story that she's willing to hurt others if it means protecting her friends, she'd just prefer not to. i could see a situation arising where marcille makes selfish or damaging choices and falin has to put her in her place about it, and marcille finally comes to a revelation about her own or falin's maturity.

from there i think would essentially be an emotional floodgate. the groundwork for her having feelings is there, as they're obviously very affectionate with each other, but the revelation "falin is not an ickle babby i have to look out for" would have her recontextualizing a lot of their interactions. marcille would have to spend a while wrestling with suddenly feeling "wrong" about sharing a bed with falin, something she used to do easily. when falin gets cuddly, she'd struggle with the feeling of "this used to seem platonic to me but now it doesn't."

actually, it'd probably be a lot like realizing you're a lesbian and that your relationship with a friend was kind of weirdly homoerotic, and not knowing if that was "okay" or not.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi spoilers #character analysis

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fictionalslvr · 5 months

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SYNOPSIS: The eerie figure of a berserker scares you out, but for him, is the opposite. He can only think about you with a single exchange of glances.

PAIRING: Yandere¡Berserker¡König x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.608k

WARNINGS: Mentions of cannibalism (methopore of it), obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, description of dead bodys and dead animals ect.

NOTES: I finally got something for the dream i had about Viking¡König. Just to clarify:A berserker is those ones vikings who fight and duel. This is probably only the start of this character, since there's a lot more things to explore about him. This probably isn't canon or a real representation of vikings/berserkers, keep that in mind please. (König is finally out of my basement again!)

Drapetomania: (n) an overwhelming urge to ran away.

In a land where the cold is enough to twist your guts and relocate them, you need to have extra care. The cold is not merciful, not with anyone. You could die from hunger firstly, and secondly, from the shivering cold in your limbs, it seems like everything here worked against the humans, to purge them out of the ground mother nature raised. The dangers are so much that only a few people live nearby the forest, it's almost unbearable and no one wants the danger in their doors, no. And by a few people, you only know one, yourself. Of course that, you didn't had another choice, if you did, you would never live where the sun doesn't reach properly, where the cold enters through your windows and shush the candles off, where animals lurk outside your humble home, ready to make you part of they visceral circle of life that they call “natural”. In fact, you could hear everything when the moon is up on the sky, the way some animals grunt and whine in pain, you could hear the fights and the smell of blood wouldn't be unnoticed by your nostrils on the other day, you were getting used to that mix of sensations yet, and you think you won't ever do, things are just too cruel around you to get used, you can just…blind yourself for those things and pretend it's not happening, or else, you could easily turn part of their food as well. Just as the poor rabbit's body lay tainted red in the snow, his eyes now white as he doesn’t move an inch, what a miserable life he must have had, but for now, he’s a good (and only) choice of food for you. It's better to just focus on your own security, praying for any god around to keep you safe as pairs of red eyes prey into your windows in the dark. The sounds are scary, you can't name all of them, the forest can embrace them sometimes. But others, you know, like the cold air that can make the trees swing, their branches slapping against each other making a harsh sound as footsteps move on the snow, you couldn't keep your eyelids closed, they were heavy, but the calm state of sleep won't come if you're scared. Nights like this are usual on this land, and you didn’t had the luck to live in the city as the people with more money did.

Speaking of which, as a person that is not contemplated by god, you didn’t have any skills on hunting as well, you’re way too weak even to fight the small bunnies, or maybe, you just didn’t have the courage to kill such innocent living beings. The only thing that kept you alive, was working for the city citizens as a cleaner, doing the work their glorious hands couldn’t do to gain a pitiful amount of coins that didn’t even guaranteed you enough food for the month, only to maintain you working for those lazy people that are too worried about their own noses to have pity on a poor human that lives close to the dense forest. With your worn fabric cloak, you needed to face the temperature to bring some food at home, the tiny bag of coins in your pocket and a wooden basket, you headed into the trail in the way of the city.

You knew the path as the back of your hands, making sure you wouldn’t get lost to suffer and get dead into the woods due to the freezing cold that the cloak couldn’t protect you forever for. In fact, it wasn’t that long and in a short time, your eyes faced the big brick walls around the town, the sounds of the chipping birds and your footsteps being replaced by chit chats and laughters, kids crying over something, and the horses trots. As you walked in, the atmosphere was a tad hotter, perhaps all for the big quantity of people together, their warm bodies would ease the temperature in this more private space, not to mention the big houses and their chimneys blowing hot smoke into the air. That makes you feel less worried, since the cold is the principal worry for you. Walking into the crowd, you already knew which fair stall to go, one with an old man that sells a good variety of meat, even though you didn’t even dreamt on the taste of the more expensive pieces, but for sure, the texture and their looks were a lot better than the ones you buy it, obviously because they’re not made for deplorable ones as you. The ones you bought were a plenty of almost rotten meat, the pieces that were almost going into the trash, and you wouldn’t doubt if they could be no good for your stomach. But you can’t complain, it’s the only thing available, the rest would be only to make you drool over it while your stomach rumbles for some good real food instead of the shitty ones you’d eat due to your financial problems.

When you got in front of the tent, the same man with the bitter expression would ‘greet’ you — That means he would only look deeply into your eyes, already judging you by your looks every time you were there, making that slightly disgusted expression scrunch his nose to you. The butcher was a hypocrite, after all, he’s the one covered in animal blood, he’s the one getting hands dirty, not you. So, you were in that criterion, more hygienic than him, and you bet on any other ones too.

The judgmental pair of hollow eyes suddenly turn behind you, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a smile you’re seeing for the first time. A high pitched voice rings from behind, and you turn into your heels to understand why the crowd is getting closer into a specific place as the man announces.

—”Rejoy, everyone! Our heroes are back, the ones that are always protecting our town from afar, our berserkers!”

Berserkers? You heard about them. A scary group of big bulky men, that would protect the city on the orders of the king, keeping everyone there safe as they trail around with their big ships, that somehow made a deal with the old king to keep everyone safe and not rob everyone. Despite not living in the city, you would still be skeptical about those men around, that at any possible moment could turn sides and attack everyone, decimating the whole town with their bare hands. As your hood falls down, the hidden sun now hits you in the face, giving you some better light to see how they truly were, and if the tales of them being nerve-racking were real. They were, in fact, more tall than average, more stronger with their pairs of muscles and eerie aura, but one specific of them, were responsible for making you petrified. He was the taller of them, the most larger on side and length, but alongside with that, he used a threadbare mask over his face, that looked more like a shirt with badly cutted holes for the eyes that kept him the only one anonymous. To worse things even more, that strange man was behind all of them, just watching as his partners were happy with the citizens, he was on the back, a bear skin from the top of his masked head to his ankles, the biggest of them, protecting him efficiently from the cold they must had challenged as he locked eyes with you.

The heavy blue eyes faced yours. You must be hallucinating in the worst way possible, he’s sure going to come over and break you into two pieces with those big hands. You saw his eyes squinting together, that creepy man must be laughing underneath his mask, laughing at how visibly uncomfortable you got with a single eye contact. As the others berserkers joined the crowd, laughing and telling the stories from the sea and their adventures, that specific one didn’t. He actually started to come to your way, and you were sure you’re going to be killed at daylight and no one would care, they could even celebrate with the man, show your dead body to everyone as a prize, you would have the same fate as the tiny rabbit, and indeed, you were tiny in comparison with him. This might be wrong, but you saw the berserk as the definition of barbarian, men that only wanted to watch blood drop and act like not a thoughtful human.

You decided to disguise the fear creeping from the bottom of your spine, turning on your heels back to face the butcher, pretending that that tower of a man isn’t coming in your direction, maybe you’re just going crazy or he’s playing tricks with your mind that is so easy to put fears into. Your hands fumbled on your pockets, taking the bag of coins messily and letting it fall on the way, mumbling some curses for yourself as you bent down to collect the coins before someone could steal months of hard work and make you stay with no food available. Hopefully, the creepy man would lose you into the crowd and forget about you as you walked like a rat in between people. As your hands groped the gold circles on the floor, you counted them mentally as you kept messing up your own actions due to that strange man frightening you for no apparent reason. When you made sure you had all of them, you lifted your body quickly, before stumbling over something stiff, already whispering apologies because town people are not so receptive to mistakes. There was him when you opened your eyes, that giant man hovering over you and closer than you expected, making you gasp audibly. Your chest hit his pectoral, those blue eyes smudged by his dilated pupils as he kept breathing heavily, you felt like facing an hungry animal, his orbs not leaving your figure for a single moment during that awkward silence that remained, until he finally did something. He searched for something under his cloak, taking out a bag full of something that tinkled on it, a big mouthful bag that he handed to the butcher as if it meant nothing.

—”Let the lady buy what she wants.” His voice wasn't as deep or tough as you imagined. In fact, he had a nasal one that made him look less scary now, and yet, he had a strong accent and his tone was a tad rude, or you thought it was.

The butcher took the bag with no hesitation, his eyes glistening with joy as he cherished the berserker.

—”Oh, yes, yes! Go ahead, madam.” You’re sure this man never was that kind towards you as now, he was even smiling. As you thought, the town is moved by money, and if you were the dirty one, they were the pigs rolling up on the mud, humiliating themselves for something temporary.

It was your turn to let your eyes shine, the big masked man beside you watching as your lips trembled for an answer. The first thing you could say was:

—”I can’t accept this, sir.” You tried your best to keep your voice gentle, still scared for your life. His dense eyes followed yours, he saw how much you wanted that, but was being polite.

—”Take it. It won’t make any difference for me.”

His tone was severe, he wouldn’t listen to any of your complaints. And honestly, it was kinda cute how you hesitated to take his money so easily, König was actually enchanted by how humble you were, your appearance and kind soul slowly creeping into his heart. On the other side, his weird accent and harsh tone was scaring you, not a single thing about him was enchanting like a prince (he was not even close to that), the man covered in blood was trying to bargain you with his money, show you how much he could provide, only to buff up his chest and be a man with high ego like he is, showing himself off to a mysterious pretty lady that probably has half his age. He assumes that, sometimes, he can be a very weird old man, and this must be what got your legs shaking that much.

The visions were distinct from each other. Your poor thing was looking at him like a deer at the headlights, and he was already planning to lift you up, put you on his broad shoulders and carry you out of there like a prize he took without asking before. König would gladly treat you like his, but he still has a little bit of humanity on his mind, and won’t do that…yet. Of course that killing everything alive was munching his brain, slowly turning the carnage he did into something normal, after all, he was “doing for the city's honor” and that would make him a hero anyways, so there's nothing to lose. He was already addicted to that feeling, the dopamine that would fill his mind as a kid yet after killing the most insignificant things like an unlucky little bird he managed to trap and end with his life so easily in his hands, grown into something more. Slowly, that kid with prominent plump and red tinted cheeks transformed into that monster of a man, the one his mother really was scared he could turn into. But that is something of the past, right now, his mean mind could only think of you, the thought of ruining that innocence that still sparkled in your eyes was a delight for his soul. And he would take that in any circumstances, no matter what he will need to do, the atrocities he can commit for you, the bondages limits he would cross to see your cute face, he cannot feel guilty for anything he will do next, everything will be due to you and your abnormal gorgeous features. König is a very, very bad man for doing that and putting the fault on you, that’s for sure.

—”Aren’t you going to choose, madam?” The voice of the butcher takes you two out of the trance, long minutes staring at each other in silence abruptly ended, the sting of fear is visible in your big eyes, but the masked man eyes just squint as if he’s smiling devilishly.

The variety of meat in front of you is mainly unknown, and you don’t even know what they taste like. But little did you know, that you could be the meat of the big man beside you. Eating you in a literal meaning seems weird, but he would love to feed himself on that purity only you have. Luckily, you would not give him any trouble, and let him use your body to fed up himself, that crimson blood dripping into the floor as he slowly sinks his teeths into your flesh, the last vision of your tired of fighting body would be his lower half in the dark, still barely covered as his hands run through you a last time before your heavy eyelids flutter for never more. He would love to have that vision, your soul vanishing into his bare eyes, due to his hands, there’s nothing else that excites him so much as that. And that, by only exchanging a few words with you. Your fate is already crossed into his calloused and dirty hands, you're going to be his in any way.

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #konig x you #konig x reader #konig cod #konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #yandere #yandere konig #vikings

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vigilskeep · 7 months

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why the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian, and why that gives us more than just a cooler name for it with a sexy accusatory nickname for anders in there somewhere: an illustrated guide!

(wait, wait, please remind me who hessarian even is, i hear you ask. hessarian was the tevinter archon who ordered andraste’s execution on the pyre. but struck with guilt at the last minute, he mercifully (i GUESS) killed andraste with a sword rather than let her suffer in the fire. he converted to andrastianism a decade later and took the rest of the imperium with him. he’s really popular in tevinter because, you know, he kind of improves their whole role in the story, and the chantry there likes to think he’s the most important disciple. you may recognise him from being one of the spirits in the urn of sacred ashes gauntlet, from the lore behind the blade of mercy gift for fenris, and the ‘blades of hessarian’ group on the storm coast in inquisition.)

okay, let’s first get the basics down: why do i think the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian? merrill, our glamorous tour guide to andrastian nonsense, is going to show us why

here’s merrill examing the architecture of the kirkwall chantry. and it’s covered in this guy!

how do we know this guy is hessarian? let’s compare it to some other, canonical andrastion depictions of the latecomer disciple. hessarian is typically depicted with some type of crown or headwear to demonstrate his status in tevinter, robes to denote him as a mage, a long beard probably also symbolic of tevinter culture at the time, and, of course, his blade of mercy. we can see all of these on the figure repeatedly shown in and outside the kirkwall chantry, as well as a certain similarity in the face to the other depictions.

here’s another variant of how the kirkwall chantry depicts the blade of mercy! these are Everywhere, including right over the doors.

and here’s more variants of the same figure inside. he’s carrying some kind of incense burner instead of a sword here, but it’s clearly the same face with the same crown and that classic hessarian beard. note his position of power flanking the enormous andraste figure.

so... why does that matter? isn’t it just a repeated asset?

no, it’s CRAZY actually. and here’s a couple reasons why!

(fascinated by genitivi’s word choice of glitzy mansions, btw.)

firstly, the kirkwall chantry’s dedication to hessarian’s figure is one of the biggest markers that it, along with the gallows and the darkspawn, is a legacy of tevinter. as i said, he’s the favourite there. kirkwall was once emerius under tevinter’s rule, and from the moment we see the weeping twins that welcome you into the city, we’re supposed to remember that the city of chains has not changed all that much. just as emerius’ prisons now incarcerate mages, its industry is now powered by refugees, and the worst parts of its lowtown hold elves probably just as they once did, its magisters’ estates continue to hold the most powerful voices in the city: in this case, that of the chantry and grand cleric elthina. the hessarian statues that demonstrate the chantry’s wealth and power are inarguably either tevinter made or at least made in their style, with such similarity to the statues of slaves that terrorise the gallows courtyard. hightown is no more free of that inheritance than the circle.

secondly, the focus on hessarian can’t be an accident in dragon age 2, a game obsessed with the mercy kill. “without an end, there can be no peace,” says flemeth. somebody has to kill wesley rather than watch him turn into a ghoul. anders has to kill karl. hawke possibly has to kill their other sibling if they catch the taint in the deep roads. varric can kill bartrand when he goes insane. killing the serial killer of elven children rather than letting his madness continue is one of the most universally approved decisions in the game. in her last words, leandra thanks you for ending the mage keeping her alive with twisted necromancy, even if, and especially because, it means the end of her suffering in death. merrill has to kill a possessed keeper marethari. many more can be killed for being “too dangerous” to live, like the blood mage idunna. orsino is slain by hawke after transforming into a monster he would never have wanted to be. there’s probably a dozen more examples i can think of. and of course, in one of the most game-defining decisions hawke has to make, there’s the option to kill anders after the destruction of the kirkwall chantry. merciful is not the word i would use for that, but it has certainly been framed that way. i suppose that’s the same as what i think of hessarian’s actions, isn’t it? (we’re focusing on the andrastian relevance here and not the godawful treatment of mentally ill people in this game, btw, although. yikes.)

“don’t compare yourself to andraste,” says sebastian to anders. he could try telling the game that. hawke gets cast into a lot of roles, but when anders believes they will kill him, he’s casting himself as the martyred andraste, dying to burn rebellion into the face of thedas, and hawke as his hessarian, quick with the merciful blade. i suppose it’s fitting that the kirkwall chantry should be consecrated in the image of its champion. and that the chantry covered in that image gets destroyed moments before hawke makes their choice, if they decide to make a different one. it’s also worth mentioning that meredith is a mimic of andraste, too, with her stolen crown, making anders and meredith obvious combatants for andraste’s legacy in the game. hawke doesn’t get much command of the narrative, but maybe they can at least dodge being anders’ hessarian, if they choose.

idk i think it’s really fucking cool and we should talk about it more, basically! there’s a lot of other angles to take. hessarian is such a fun lore figure to explore. for example, i didn’t even get into the prominence of an andrastian mage figure here, or that the blade of mercy is the symbol of the templar order and was invoked even earlier, in dao, as the “blade of mercy” by traumatised mages who desperately sought to be purified by the templars’ judgement.

also, i think ‘the chantry of hessarian’s mercy’ sounds good. maybe ‘the chantry of our lady’s spilled blood’? that could be sexy. whatever. i’m workshopping it

#long post #kirkwall #anders #i’ve been to the church on spilled blood in st petersburg it’s so extraordinary

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drakaripykiros130ac · 26 days

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Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen being attacked for decisions made by members of her Council is an actual thing, I realize. And its basis is 21st century misogyny found in certain “fans”.

Here are some examples:

1. B&C was orchestrated by Daemon, as retribution for the murder of Lucerys Velaryon. Daemon sent Rhaenyra a letter from Harrenhal (in the book canon, he was already there when news reached them), in which he promised her that her son would be avenged. That’s it. She was informed that Daemon would do something in retribution, but she wasn’t filled in on what.

And somehow, Rhaenyra is responsible for B&C. How? Because she didn’t stop Daemon? (As if she could). And even if she knew what he was about to do, why should she have stopped him? Her child was murdered in cold blood. The war had not yet begun. Her innocent boy was an envoy, and he was murdered while peace terms were still being considered. Rhaenyra is a mother in pain. The only thought running through her mind at the time was that her child was murdered. She didn’t give a damn about any of the “green” children. Why should she? I know I wouldn’t if I were in her place.

Rhaenyra had no knowledge of B&C and was not in any way involved, nor did she care enough to stop it. And I repeat, why should she?

2. The situation with Ladies Rosby and Stokeworth. I am super tired of hearing how Rhaenyra is “evil” because she didn’t support the ascension of other women in positions of power at the time.

First and foremost: How is that her job? Oh, that’s right. It’s not. She had her own fight against the patriarchy and her success could have paved the way for other women to be permitted a better life in the future.

Secondly, it was Corlys, Rhaenyra’s Hand, who insisted that Ladies Rosby and Stokeworth be passed over. Corlys is the one who viewed Rhaenyra as an exception to the patriarchy.

Change doesn’t happen all of a sudden. It needs to be small, like Rhaenyra’s successful ascension on the Iron Throne. Turning the Realm into “Barbie Land” overnight would have brought down the whole system, not changed it.

Rhaenyra’s decision to heed Corlys’ advice was correct. But I also think she should have followed Daemon’s advice as well and arranged marriages for the girls with Hugh Hammer and Ulf White.

In any case, this situation is not Rhaenyra’s fault, nor was it her choice. It was Corlys’, you know, the man who’s not only her Hand but who commands the Realm’s largest fleet and finances Rhaenyra’s actual war. The fact that certain TG stans believe Rhaenyra could have done whatever she wanted in this scenario and ignored Corlys’ advice proves they don’t know shit about politicking.

3. The raised taxes in King’s Landing: once again, not Rhaenyra’s idea. It was her Master of Coin, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, who came up with this solution.

And as bad as it sounds, it is the only possible solution to the crisis, because the Greens are the ones who stole all the gold from the treasury and left the Realm impoverished (something for people to chew on, when they have the nerve to claim that TG = Team Smallfolk).

Now, when it comes to Alicent, however, she is somehow the “victim” of the decisions made by the men around her.

Hypocrisy much?

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indigovigilance · 6 months

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Anthony, Anthony, Anthony

What does your Anthony mean, exactly?

I feel like your Anthony and my Anthony are different Anthonies…

In 1941 we learn that Crowley has named himself Anthony J. Crowley (Aziraphale doesn’t pronounce the H but closed captions write it and Neil Gaiman hashtags #Anthony and also it’s Anthony the script book so I guess Michael Sheen is just doing a thing idk). I haven’t seen extensive discussion of this topic but I’m going to jump in with both feet.

I propose that Anthony actually has a double meaning; that is, Crowley chose this name for one reason, but Aziraphale believes he chose it for another.

(I cite as indirect inspo a wonderful Tumblr meta about how the ineffable blockheads have completely different interpretations of Jane Austen and how this informs their S2 decision-making).

Read or bookmark for later on Ao3 because this got away from me and now it's a 2,888 word meta on people named Anthony what am I doing with my life

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First and foremost, let it be stated that there is no canon for when Crowley anti-christened himself Anthony. Neil Gaiman himself won’t know until he writes it.

Secondly, let it be known that I am not an historian nor a literary scholar of any kind. So people who actually know these stories may find themselves cringing at my surface-level summaries and inaccurate interpretations: I’m just piecing together what I could find easily. I invite someone else to revise and republish if they can delve deeper on these topics.

Part 1: Mark Antony

There is a bust of Marc Antony in Mr. Fell’s bookshop as of S1E1 modern day (2019) which is still there at the end of S2E6, where it features prominently in the center of a shot. In 2019, the bust is adorned with yellow ribbons; in 2023, it is naked. The flashback to 1941 doesn’t give a good view of the part of the shop where the bust would normally be located so I have no idea when the bust actually got added to Aziraphale’s collection. I’m going to assume, for argument’s sake, that Aziraphale acquired this bust after the Blitz. I’m going to further propose that he acquired this bust because he believes that Crowley named himself Anthony after Mark Antony.

Why would Aziraphale think that? Two reasons.

1) Mark Antony was the loser of a civil war for liberty

Mark Antony was a good and loyal Roman citizen, serving Caesar with distinction, even attaining the title of Master of the Horse (Caesar’s second-in-command). See additional metas on horse symbolism seen throughout S2. After the death of Caesar, however, Octavian and members of the senate turned on Antony, starting a civil war. You know, much like a certain someone we know that was involved in Dubious Battle on the Plains of Heaven.

Mark Antony was loyal to Caesar’s political mission, which was to establish a Roman republic, where the voices of the citizens would be heard through their representatives [a suggestion box, if you will]. But Antony’s defeat marked the end of the republic, ushering in an age of autocracy. Octavian, following his victory over Antony, crowned himself the first Emperor of Rome.

2) Mark Antony was a libertine, but also the loyal, ardent lover of Cleopatra

Mark Antony was an infamous, lascivious, debaucherous, womanizing lush. He was also Cleopatra’s lover and closest ally. Though Mark Antony could not often meet with Cleopatra, their affair was allegedly very romantic, and from afar Antony did everything in his power to support Cleopatra politically, expanding her territorial holdings even while they were apart for years.

So legendary was Antony's wanton hedonism that when he went to Athens, he was deified as the New Dionysus, mystic god of wine, happiness, and immortality. Religious propaganda declared Cleopatra the New Isis or Aphrodite (mythic goddess of love and beauty) to his New Dionysus. The ineffable emperors, if you will. [source: Encyclopedia Britannica]

Parallels arising after 1941:

After Antony had officially divorced Octavian’s sister, Octavian formally broke off the ties of personal friendship with Antony and declared war, not against Antony but against Cleopatra. Much like how Shax, after her S2E1 “you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” proposal, threatened Crowley that if he did not assist her search for Gabriel, Hell would declare war not on him but on Aziraphale.

The legacy of Mark Antony, therefore, is one of hedonism, romance, fighting for a cause that you believe in, and losing that fight. It’s easy to see how Aziraphale drew the conclusion that Anthony J. Crowley took his inspiration from this historical figure.

Part 2: Antony & Cleopatra

How is this a part 2? Weren’t we just talking about Mark Antony and his relationship with Cleopatra? Hear me out.

Crowley has never expressed much interest in politics. Every time something of political import happens, he declares that the humans made it up themselves while also taking credit for it with Hell. This includes 1793 Paris and the Spanish Inquisition. If I forgot any, drop them in the comments.

But Crowley has a deep and pervasive interest in stories, especially romance stories. If he can keep the Bentley from turning it into Queen, he listens to the Velvet Underground. He watches Richard Curtis films (to the degree that he identifies them by director rather than by title). Though book canon is not show canon, it’s worth mentioning that his favorite serial is Golden Girls; while not a romance, it is certainly heartfelt storytelling at its finest and a homosexual staple.

We know, too, that Shakspeare stole a line from him, with an adjustment for pronouns:

"Age Does Not Wither, Nor Custom Stale His Infinite Variety”

Let’s first talk about Crowley’s context for the quote.

Picture it: the Globe Theater, 1601, the house is empty because it’s one of Shakespeare’s gloomy ones and an irritated young Burbage, in the role of Hamlet, is droning out his lines like he would rather be anywhere else.

Burbage: To be or not to be. That is the question.

Aziraphale: To be! I mean, not to be! Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, grinning with delight. Crowley stares back at him, shaking his head slightly, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lip. He wants to be embarrassed, but cannot help being charmed.

Aziraphale: He’s very good, isn’t he?

Crowley: Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety.

Crowley is looking up at the stage, and speaks immediately after Aziraphale has made a comment about Burbage. But is Crowley talking about Burbage? Does it stand to reason that age would not have withered, or custom not staled, this twenty year old (yet somehow jaded) stage actor?

I propose that this is a poetic inversion of the S2E1 cold open, wherein the Starmaker, looking out upon creation, says: “Look at you, you’re gorgeous!” and Aziraphale erroneously thinks the statement was directed at him. Here, even though Crowley isn’t looking at Aziraphale, I believe that Crowley is actually talking about Aziraphale when he delivers that iconic line. Unlike Burbage, Aziraphale is old, very, very old, and we know that he has a penchant for custom, wearing the same clothes and listening to the same music for century upon century. Yet here is this precious angel being a cheerful little peanut gallery of one, continuing to surprise the demon after all this time. Neither age nor custom has staled Aziraphale’s infinite variety.

When Shakespeare commits the line to a play written 1606-1607, a few years after this event, Crowley will recognize his own sentiment about Aziraphale issuing from Antony’s mouth about Cleopatra. The actual historical events will not have left much of an impression, but the immortalization of his own admiration of the angel in human romantic fiction will have.

It must be mentioned that Antony & Cleopatra is a tragedy, where the star-crossed lovers are kept apart by warring factions that demand loyalty to the state at the preclusion of each other.

There are also some (as far as I can tell) nearly copy-paste plot points from Romeo & Juliet about a misunderstood faked suicide followed by actual suicide and the lovers dying in each others’ arms. It does not have a happy ending. Anthony Crowley deliberately choosing his “Christian name” from this play embodies not only his deep love but his hopelessness that he can ever get the happily ever after he desires.

In Summary

Crowley was an admirer, in one respect or another, of Mark Anthony, though he relied more heavily on Shakespeare’s portrayal and reimagining of the character than Aziraphale gives due credit. Nevertheless, the difference…

Wait a minute…

What’s that?

Is that…

A piece of canon evidence that completely undermines my argument??

This screenshot will only be visible to Tumblr users (sorry Ao3), but at some point we get a good look at the Mona Lisa sketch that Crowley has hanging in his apartment. It is signed (translated from Italian) “To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V.”

The problem with this is, the Mona Lisa was painted 100 years before Shakespeare penned Antony & Cleopatra.

However, Neil Gaiman reblogged this transcription and translation, posing the hypothetical, “I wonder if Crowley knows what the A in A.Z. Fell stands for.”

Could it be that the Notorious NRG is jerking us around and sending us on wild goose chases? Absolutely a possibility. But. Let’s give a little grace for a moment, and assume that this comment was made in good faith. A bold assumption, I know. But humor me.

We know that Crowley and Aziraphale both knew Jane Austen, but from completely different perspectives. It stands to reason that Crowley knew da Vinci the scientist, but that Antonio Fell knew Leo da V., an artist with a heart that yearned for an unavailable lover. I’m just making wild conjecture that Lisa Gherardini (aka Mona Lisa), the wife of Florentine cloth merchant Francesco del Giocondo, was a love interest of da Vinci, but it could be true in the GO universe and would make for a great story.

Aziraphale also collects signed items from famous people; the inscribed books of Professor Hoffman to a wonderful student, and the S.W. Erdnase book, signed with his real name, come to mind. The Mona Lisa draft fits in much better with that collection of souvenirs than with anything in Crowley’s apartment. So it stands to reason that it could actually be addressed to Aziraphale.

There remains the question of how or why Crowley has it, but I won’t subject that to speculation here. All to say. Neil Gaiman’s implication-by-redirect is… possible. So let’s assume that it is the case, just for a moment.

If the Mona Lisa sketch is signed to “Antonio” Fell, then this allows the above theory regarding Crowley’s self-naming to remain intact. But it brings up a few questions regarding Aziraphale, not the least of which is: why did he name himself Antonio/Anthony?

Part 3: Saint Anthony of Padua

Anthony was the chosen name of a Portuguese monk, taken upon joining the Fransican order. Anthony rose to prominence in the 13th century as a celebrated orator, delivering impassioned and eloquent sermons. He is also associated with some fish symbolism, since he preached at the shore and fish gathered to listen. He was, incidentally, a lover of books:

Anthony had a book of psalms that contained notes and comments to help when teaching students and, in a time when a printing press was not yet invented, he greatly valued it.

When a novice decided to leave the hermitage, he stole Anthony's valuable book. When Anthony discovered it was missing, he prayed it would be found or returned to him. The thief did return the book and in an extra step returned to the Order as well.

The book is said to be preserved in the Franciscan friary in Bologna today. [source: https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=24]

This miraculous incident, wherein the thief not only returns a valuable book but also has a change of heart and returns to the bosom of organized religion, smacks of angelic intervention. But that is neither here nor there.

Saint Anthony is the Patron Saint of the Lost, and is prayed to by those seeking to recover lost things. What is “lost” in this context is usually an item, rather than a person or an intangible concept, however he is also “credited with many miracles involving lost people, lost things and even lost spiritual goods,” such as faith. [Edit: @tsilvy helpfully contributes that "Here in Italy Sant'Antonio is commonly not just the saint patron of lost things, but, maybe primarily, the saint patron of lost *causes*."] He died at the age of 35, and in artwork is typically depicted with a book and the Infant Child Jesus.

It’s a defensible position that the thing that gives Aziraphale the most consternation across the millennia is Crowley’s loss of his angelic status, and it could even be framed such that Aziraphale does not consider Crowley actually fallen, but rather simply lost. It is a fact that he finds difficult to reconcile and, depending on your reading of the Final Fifteen, the offer to restore Crowley’s angelic status is one that is so pivotal to resolving his internal conflict that he cannot refuse. If this conflict is so central for Aziraphale, perhaps he did name himself after a booklover and the patron saint of lost things, hoping that the name would carry with it some of the power of the blessing, and return Crowley to the light, and in turn, to him.

But wait.

Because I googled “St Anthony” to look for some images and….

St. Anthony of the Desert

I shit you not there are multiple St. Antonies and we’re going to talk about another one of them with respect to Aziraphale because this guy is bonkers. The story traces to the Vitae Patrum, yet another fringe biblical text and I cannot even get a quick answer on whether it is canon or apocrypha because it’s so fringe. Anyways. I think the best way to explain St. Anthony of the Desert comes from the wikipedia page on the Desert Fathers:

Sometime around AD 270, Anthony heard a Sunday sermon stating that perfection could be achieved by selling all of one's possessions, giving the proceeds to the poor, and following Jesus. He followed the advice and made the further step of moving deep into the desert to seek complete solitude.

[He] became known as both the father and founder of desert monasticism. By the time Anthony had died in AD 356, thousands of monks and nuns had been drawn to living in the desert following Anthony's example, leading his biographer, Athanasius of Alexandria, to write that "the desert had become a city." The Desert Fathers had a major influence on the development of Christianity.

Let’s all agree that this guy is not Aziraphale; this whole becoming an ascetic and living alone in the middle of a desert thing? Not his cuppertea. But St. Anthony is interesting not just for his decision to go into the desert, but what happened when he got there.

The Torment of St Anthony is a 15th century painting commonly attributed to Michaelangelo. It depicts demons crawling all over and attacking a hermit.

But the first round of demons are scraping the bottom of the barrel, practically the damned. Anthony’s journey continues and he meets another demon. Actually he meets two; a centaur, who is not very helpful, and then a satyr who is. It is much easier to find paintings of St. Anthony and the Centaur than of St. Anthony and the Satyr, so you don’t get an image, but I find the satyr to be a much more interesting character, so you get that story instead:

Anthony found next the satyr, "a manikin with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like goats's feet." This creature was peaceful and offered him fruits, and when Anthony asked who he was, the satyr replied, "I'm a mortal being and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the Gentiles, deluded by various forms of error, worship under the names of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi. I am sent to represent my tribe. We pray you in our behalf to entreat the favor of your Lord and ours, who, we have learnt, came once to save the world, and 'whose sound has gone forth into all the earth.'" Upon hearing this, Anthony was overjoyed and rejoiced over the glory of Christ. He condemned the city of Alexandria for worshiping monsters instead of God while beasts like the satyr spoke about Christ.

St. Anthony, then, is entreated by a demon to ask forgiveness from God upon the demons, and St. Anthony, seemingly, agrees to do it. He’s overjoyed to ask God to forgive demons. In connection to my analysis of the origins of the Metatron, and how Aziraphale and Crowley’s potential beef with him is that, as a human put in the exact same situation, he did the opposite, refusing to take the demon’s petition for mercy to God but instead taking it upon himself to confirm their unforgivability (yes that’s a word now) and damnation.

That seems like it would be pretty important to Aziraphale.

In Summary

I give up. I have no idea what’s going on with this show anymore. Here are two options each for both of our ineffable husbands to have given themselves the same God-blessed/damned name. You guys tell me what you think, I just have a pile of evidence and no spoons to evaluate it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley

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