#aren't the same. It doesn't have to be the same to be lovely I think...and I like how Tuvok and Janeway are so exemplary of their species'

[megapteraurelia]

roommates!osasuna who make you dinner every night: osamu cooks like a god and suna just leans against the counter, shirtless because he can't be bothered to throw on a shirt (plus, he does enjoy the looks you give him or the rough grip osamu has on his neck when he's standing in the way).

osamu ends up feeding you while suna's shoulders keep your legs spread underneath the table, face buried between your thighs. the grip you have on osamu's arm is deathly, yet his spoon still taps your mouth, his voice rough when he tells you to open up.

roommates!osasuna who each insist on showering with you, even when they had already washed themselves. osamu who catches you by the hem of your panties when you enter the bathroom and try to flee, seeing both of them under the spray of the water already, who pulls you in closer, the material digging in between your slick folds.

"where do ya think yer going?"

"i— i just-ah wanted—"

suna who holds you up, his arms slung underneath your legs so osamu's hips have free reign to fuck into you. his voice sounds sweet and cruel in your ear, "yeah? wanted what, baby?"

roommates!osasuna who have completely different energies in bed. osamu is slow, commanding, dominant in a soft-spoken way, his hand resting against your throat and suna's neck lightly, like a warning, like a promise. he doesn't shy away to put both of you in your place when you act up, arms headlocking suna ever so often because he especially loves to be a brat.

suna is a lazy tease until he isn't, until he gets serious, because then he's all over you, hot whispers in your ear, his hips grinding until you're breathless. he loves especially when his hand pumps osamu's cock and he hears the low groans in tandem with your higher moans.

roommates!osasuna who sometimes accidentally flirt at the same time and you forget how to function. when osamu presses a glass of water to your lips, his other hand lingering on your back, "drink up, sweetheart." or when suna offhandedly fixes your hair, pulling it back to braid it for you, his legs brushing your own and he tells you, "messy suits you."

roommates!osasuna who crowd you in the hallway just to 'talk', and it's osamu's arm braced against the wall beside your head and suna leaning in close, his hand on your jaw forcing you to look up to them.

roommates!osasuna who are a mix of soft praise and filthy mouths, "look at ya, sweetheart, begging so sweetly, so messy. c'mon, on yer back f'me. face up so sunarin can see how pretty ya look."

and if it was only that, but— "you wanted that, don't forget, baby. asked for this even: two cocks, four hands," suna's behind you, his fingers nimble on your puffy clit as if you aren't about to combust from the stretch of osamu's dick inching itself deeper into you.

"you're trembling, baby. i promise you can take another, ah fuck, 'samu —" he trailed off, teeth finding your sweaty neck when suna's cock flinched inside you at the added friction of osamu, and a high-pitched whine escaped him, "you're made for this, yeah, you are. such a little whore, look at how easy he slid in—"

and here you are, trapped in between two bodies as they fucked you in tandem, the friction delicious, the wet squelches like music in your ears amidst osamu's grunting and suna's mewls, strings of spit coating your skin when their mouths found each other over your shoulder, and their hands—

pressing down your abdomen, on your overstimulated clit, lodged in your mouth, heavy on your tongue.

you see stars, that's how hard you came.

roommates!osasuna who shift slightly, tears still drying on your cheeks, body limp and sensitive from the way they took turns using you and holding you down like belong to their own little puppet show.

osamu is the first to come back to himself, and he shakes his head a little, his muscles still involuntarily twitching, breath heavy, voice wrecked from groaning your name. when he sees you trembling and dazed, he's already leaning over you, hand heavy and warm on your jaw. his thumb brushes your bottom lip and his voice is low and steady, "still with me, sweetheart? hm? c'mon, open those pretty eyes f'me."

when osamu takes care of you, it's all safety, it's all home, it's gentleness coming to life in the way his hand finds its way to your chest to feel your heartbeat for a moment, before he's up and already wetting a warm cloth, grabbing water, fluffing the pillows underneath you and suna.

sunarin instead is quiet, pressed close, body heat melting into your skin. his fingers ghost over your thighs, your waist, your shoulders. his voice is a sleepy murmur, soft against your ear as he nuzzles in, face buried in your hair.

"you're so good for us, baby, always so good."

he doesn't outright asks about your wellbeing like osamu does, but he watches the way your body comes down from everything and when you shiver, he tugs a blanket up. when you whimper, he kisses the back of your neck.

you love sunarin when he's smug, when he teases you, when he talks back to osamu, but you love when he's half-lidded and flushed, holding you close a tiny bit more.

and then he says, "still feeling me inside you, huh?"

his fingers trail down, gently pressing over where it still aches and when osamu's back to wipe you down, suna is the one who holds your legs spread when you're too weak to.

"sunarin."

suna hums, "yeah?"

"out."

"but it's so warm."

osamu's voice is gruff, wiping a streak off your inner thigh, "how am i supposed to clean 'er up if yer dick's still in— stop grinding, rin."

and he was. suna is insatiable in the way his hips automatically move to lightly rut into you, in the way his mouth kisses your throat and licks up strips of sweat. your head lolled back, your face flushed, as you're already entering another reality again, too far gone.

"out, rin," osamu's hand splayed on suna's thigh, fingers digging in, "i'll give ya somethin' to keep warm with later."

that does the trick, and when suna pulls out, cum leaks alongside it, and the feeling of the stuffiness gone, the feeling of their proof of love escaping almost has you whining.

"she's leaking down her legs. fuck, that's hot," suna murmurs, voice scratchy, his finger dipping to catch some, "we should take a picture."

osamu doesn't say anything but he thinks he agrees, his eyes transfixed as his hands rub your hip bone gently, almost reverently just to watch. the slick shine between your legs, the trails on your skin, the way you're open, trembling.

"look at ya, drippin' all over the place."

his hands move slow at cleaning you up, pausing between wipes to press kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your belly, voice wrecked in between the soft caress, "so messy, sweetheart. we did a number on ya."

you were sleepy with his gentle care, with the way suna's hand strokes your hair, his other hand cupping your boobs — not in a sexual way, just warm, heavy, arm draped over your torso.

once you're clean, once suna's clean (and osamu's very thorough in the way he licked up the residue cum), once osamu's checked your body over like he's trying to memorise every bruise and bitemark they had left on your skin, he joins both of you in the bed. chest against your chest, hand cupping your face, his other on suna's waist over you — he belongs right there with you two.

"proud of ya, sweets, you always take us so damn well."

roommates!osasuna who both kiss your cheeks at the same time, whispering i love you from different sides of the best, blanket tucked all around you, warm with their body heat, their affection, their desire.

1 | 2

TAGLIST | @sodaneko @takes1 @classicalelephant @pomigranit @sugacor3 @boktuoafterdark (you had asked to be tagged in suna stuff, and well— it's not just suna, but he is involved...)

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Could you do another Liam Fluff/Smut? Would also love a Brennen Sorengail Fluff/Smut 🤭

unmapped territiories - Brennan Sorrengail

Brennan Sorrengail x reader

thanks for the request!! another liam fic will be out soon, i just couldn’t resist writing first for brennan 🤭

who wouldn’t enjoy being locked in a room with their enemy?

word count: 1,9k

warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, SMUT

The war room empties with the slow shuffle of boots and the rustle of worn coats, the last officer's muttered farewell cut short as the heavy door shuts behind him. You don't register the click of the latch at first. You're too busy glaring at the map still sprawled across the table - lines inked with impossible strategies, territories bleeding color, and the lingering aftertaste of another argument with Brennan Sorrengail.

He hasn't moved. Of course not.

You bite your tongue, fists resting on the table as you stare at the same battle plan you've fought over for weeks. Your pulse thrums with leftover adrenaline, your brain still brimming with words you didn't say because they'd only lead to more fire, more static, more of the same.

"You know," you finally mutter, not even bothering to look at him, "if you spent half as much time supporting actual action as you do dismantling every idea l offer, we might have a shot at getting ahead of the next Venin ambush."

Brennan doesn't flinch. His voice comes low, clipped, calm in the way that makes your skin crawl. "And if you spent more time calculating the costs of your decisions instead of charging headfirst into fire, we might still have more riders left to command."

Your head snaps up. "Say that again."

He lifts his eyes from the map, dark and steady. "You heard me."

Gods, he's infuriating. The nerve. The absolute gall to stand there with his war-smooth voice and his infuriatingly logical mind, acting as if your instincts are some kind of liability just because they aren't cloaked in maps and cautious timelines.

You round the table before you know what you're doing, the distance between you both shrinking like a flame finding air.

"Your strategies take too long," you snap. "You treat every move like it's a lecture in the history quadrant, not a fight for our lives."

"And you treat command like a personal dare," Brennan counters, stepping toward you with that maddening precision. "You think being willing to die makes you a leader. It doesn't. It makes you reckless."

“You think being cautious makes you a hero?” you go on, stepping toward him. “People are dying while you sit there and dissect the ethics of every possible move like this is still some theoretical seminar.”

“I think not rushing headfirst into every situation makes me someone worth following,” Brennan replies coldly. “You act like courage means charging first and asking questions later. That’s not leadership. That’s recklessness dressed as martyrdom.”

The rage twists inside your chest like coiled wire, snapping tighter with every word. He always does this. He always makes you feel like your instincts are something to apologize for, like your fire is something to temper.

You're toe to toe now, the air stretched tight between you, thick with months— maybe years-of buried friction. His breath fans your cheek. His jaw twitches. And despite the fury bubbling in your chest, you can't ignore the twist in your stomach every time he looks at you like this: like he's calculating the next move, and you're the battlefield.

You blink first, turning toward the door in a flush of motion.

"Whatever. I'm done talking to you."

You stalk past him toward the door, fingers curling around the latch.

It doesn’t move.

You try again. Then harder. It gives a little — then sticks completely.

“What now?” Brennan asks flatly.

“It’s jammed.”

He sighs and strides over, his shoulder brushing yours — too warm, too solid — as he grabs the latch and yanks it. The door creaks ominously. The wood doesn’t budge.

He mutters something under his breath, crouches, and examines the frame. “It’s not locked. It’s broken. The stone must have shifted — the hinge looks warped.”

You blink. “So we’re stuck.”

He gives the door one last pull, then straightens. “Unless you’ve got a sledgehammer in your pocket.”

You try lesser magic, as your signet is completely useless in this situation. It fizzles. He tries to shift the hinge with his own — nothing. You shout. No one answers.

The war room’s thick walls swallow your voices whole.

You turn to him slowly, arms folding tight. “This is your fault.”

His eyes narrow. “How, exactly, is this my fault?”

“You’re the one who dragged the meeting out. You’re the one who had to dissect every single word I said.”

He exhales sharply, eyes narrowed.

"Maybe if your plan hadn't been designed with the same recklessness as your insults-“

You don't let him finish. "You think I enjoy this? You think I want to be stuck in a stone box with you of all people?"

"Trust me," he growls, stepping closer,

"you're not exactly my first choice either."

And that's it - the breaking point.

Words spiral into heat, and your next insult is lost in the space between you as Brennan steps in, crowding you against the wall. You don't back down.

You never have. His mouth is close. His breathing shallow.

You're angry. So angry. But your pulse is pounding, and you can feel his chest rising and falling just inches from yours.

"Just say it," you whisper, throat tight.

"Say what you're really thinking."

His eyes flick down to your mouth.

Then he's kissing you - fiercely, recklessly, like it's the last battle he'll ever fight.

And gods help you, you kiss him back, hands clutching his shirt, mouths crashing together in a storm of months of arguments and meetings and unsaid things that never needed words at all.

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and you retaliate by biting his lower lip, earning a rough groan that vibrates against your tongue.

"Always so difficult," he mutters against your mouth, but his hands are already working at the fastenings of your coat, shoving it off your shoulders with impatient urgency.

You arch into him, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his tunic, nails scraping against the hard planes of his chest as you push the fabric aside. "And you love it," you breathe, nipping at his jaw.

He exhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist as he spins you, pressing your back against the war table.

He parts your legs with a sure grip, dragging your pants down without finesse - just urgency - and the scrape of air across your thighs makes you shiver. He drops to his knees like he was always meant to be there. Like he’s been thinking about this for far too long.

And then-

Gods.

His mouth.

You barely have time to process the wet heat of his tongue before your hands fly to his hair, curling in soft waves as he works you open with long, unhurried strokes.

“Brennan,” you gasp, your voice cracking when he flattens his tongue and licks a slow stripe up your center.

He hums like he’s savoring something exquisite. Like he likes this - the taste of you, the way you squirm, the curses that fall from your lips when he flicks just right.

He slides a finger inside you - then two - curling them expertly while his mouth never relents. The room tilts, your breath splintering as tension coils like rope inside your belly.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and when you do - when your gaze locks with his dark eyes - it shatters you.

You come with a sob of his name, legs trembling around his shoulders, and he doesn’t stop until you’re pushing at him, too sensitive to take more.

He stands, lips slick and swollen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he just came out of a warzone. “I knew you would taste this good.”

You yank him forward by the collar and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans low, and when you reach between your bodies and undo his belt, his composure finally cracks.

You push papers and maps aside until the table is nothing but a battlefield of limbs and heat.

He lines up at your entrance, not yet pushing in, just… watching. You blink up at him, breath caught.

“I’ve wanted this,” he says, voice hoarse, “for so godsdamn long.”

You nod, pulling him closer. “Then stop wasting time.”

He thrusts into you in one smooth motion, and you both moan - him into your neck, you into his hair. He’s thick and deep and it’s too much but exactly what you want.

He sets a pace that’s slow at first, like he wants to feel every inch of you, and then rougher - snapping his hips with rhythm that leaves you gasping, writhing under him. The table creaks beneath you with each thrust.

He flips you onto your stomach with a growl, pulls your hips back, and slams into you again - this time deeper, harder, until your fingernails dig into the wood and your vision swims. He fucks you like he’s trying to erase the war, the arguments, the distance - like he wants to write this into your bones.

You come again with his name on your lips, and this time he follows, groaning your name against your back, his grip bruising on your hips as he spills inside you.

Afterward, he wraps his arms around you and collapses with you onto the rug, both of you panting, limbs tangled over.

It’s a long time before either of you speaks.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing damp hair from your forehead.

You nod, curling against him. “I think we broke the table.”

He huffs a laugh, his chest rising beneath your cheek. “Worth it.”

"I didn't mean it," he whispers then, breath warm on your lips. "What I said about you. I never meant it."

You smile lazily, fingers carding through his curls. “I know.”

“I think you're impossible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "And maybe the only one who makes me feel like this war hasn't swallowed everything worth holding onto."

“Funny,” you whisper, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

His fingers graze your thigh, not with heat, but with something achingly soft. “So what now?”

You sigh, lean back against the stone wall, and pull his arm tighter around your waist. “Now we wait for someone to realize we’re missing. And pretend we weren’t naked on the war table when they find us.”

Brennan chuckles, low and genuine. “Think they’ll buy it?”

“Not for a second.”

And when the door finally groans open hours later, broken hinge dangling sadly, you’re both fully dressed, bickering half-heartedly over territory lines again - but you catch Brennan smiling at you in the corner of his mouth.

Not sharp. Not smug.

Soft.

That night, when you slip into his quarters - because of course you do - you find him already waiting, a book open but forgotten in his lap as he watches you with that same unreadable expression.

"Come to yell at me some more?" he asks, but there's no bite to it.

You smirk, crawling onto the bed beside him. "Maybe."

He catches your wrist, pulling you into his lap with a quiet laugh. "Or maybe you just missed me."

You roll your eyes, but you don't deny it.

And when he kisses you again - slow, deep, different this time - you realize something terrifying.

You like him.

Not just the way he makes you burn, not just the way he challenges you - but him. The way his fingers trace idle patterns on your skin when he thinks you're asleep. The way he still argues with you over battle plans but now does it with his lips brushing your shoulder.

And when he murmurs, "Stay," against your mouth, you don't hesitate.

[madartiste]

As much as I love the idea of Sparda turning up again someday and getting to meet his grown sons and grandson, I feel like there's 90% chance Nero would end up fighting him. This kid has been ready to throw hands with his 'god' since he was a teenager, and I don't think he's gotten any better as a twenty-something.

This shouldn't be taken seriously at all, but I just thought it would be fun to see Nero defending Dante and Vergil from his grandpa. I imagine Sparda would be particularly disappointed in some of the stuff Vergil got up to, and while Nero might actually agree with him, he also would get in his face about it.

Also, Eva should be allowed to be a less than perfect. Poor woman doesn't deserve to be saddled with the whole 'paragon of motherly virtue' schtick.

---

"You don't get to talk to Vergil like that," Nero snapped. Sparda tilted his head, and Nero bared his teeth. "Where were you while these two were getting chased by Mundus' creeps for their whole childhoods, huh?"

"Nero," Vergil hissed.

"Fuck that." Nero glared at his grandfather, at the being he'd been told all his life was some infallible god, the same guy who'd just decided to lay into one of the sons he'd abandoned. "He got his dumb ass stuck in a trap for almost forty years after he wandered off alone!"

Dante let out a shocked snort and slapped a hand over his mouth and nose when Vergil turned to stare at him.

"That's why you weren't there for them, why their lives got so shitty," Nero said. "And now you have the fucking nerve to show back up and talk down to them for things they did to survive? Not with me here!"

Drawing himself up to his full height, Sparda loomed over Nero. "...Interesting. You have your grandmother's temper and her foul mouth, it seems."

Dante blinked. "Her what?"

"I don't give a shit." Nero threw his shoulders back, and the Bringer Claws phased into view. "You want to pick a fight, then let's go."

"Nero!" Vergil grabbed his arm, but he shook his father off.

"What, you think I'm scared to throw down with this old bastard? C'mon, Savior, let's do this."

The Dark Knight leaned back slightly, head tilting the other direction this time. "Savior? Aah, I knew I recognized your accent. You're from Fortuna, aren't you? Well, that's rather… awkward."

[hrtkuina]

Tbh I do think that Zolu could realistically be a couple and make out and have sex without being disingenuous to Luffy's stated sexuality or having any attraction between them whatsoever. Iirc, sex and all that is something that Luffy just "doesn't think about" - and he's obv had plenty of time to grow attracted to someone in a romantic or sexual way, and just hasn't. (Zoro doesn't seem to show interest in other people like that either, which is likely unintentional irt sexuality but a truth nonetheless.) So like, no attraction- possibly at all, possibly without the catalyst of experiencing it first. K. Cool. Good.

Then there's also the distinct relationship that Zoro and Luffy have, bound together by fate in a different way than the rest. Luffy loves all his crew equally, but love has different forms in different relationships (not in a way that's necessarily labelable as romantic, familial, or any of that)

And then their brains work the same, they speak the same language, they have the same crazy sense of devotion, etc etc etc. And look how crazy devoted they are already, how intense. Ultimately, they've probably discovered every single way to express affection toward each other that they can.

But when there's something major, something life-changing, it can feel like all the established ways of telling someone you care aren't adequate in that moment. Something like a final fight in a 1000+ chapter story would probably feel that way; that ultimate success and victory. But what expression of love haven't those two traded back and forth a million times by now?

Kisses are known to signify love, of multiple kinds. I honestly don't think that either of them have particularly thought about it much, but they know it's an action that exists. And I don't think Luffy would mind at all in that context: a kiss as communication. And obviously, it's easy for the serotonin and dopamine rush from being told something that intense to cause you to indulge, to say it right back. I don't think it's about physical pleasure or having a relationship that involves kissing or more for either of them. I just also know that there's gotta be a moment in the story where Luffy fully fucking processes that Zoro's not gonna leave his side, ever, and this late in the story that's a way for it to play out and feel realistic.

Luffy's relationships, outside of his brothers and bio family, aren't something that should be fit into a societal label, because what's important to him is the actual actions themselves, and words are, frankly, limiting. Hence, nakama.

[dxmedstudent]

Agree with the above.

From my forays into the topic (as a VERY pro choice doctor about to do IVF myself) this sounds about right. A lot of the arguments seem to be:

It separates reproduction from "the marital act" and they feel that this personally deprives the baby of some kind of religious meaning. Because they think all sex should have the possibility of conception and that getting married is essentially consent to having sex...which is,by their definitions, consent to having children - if you're in one of the branches that does not believe in contraception. Now, you can actually get perforated condoms to take samples - so the religious couple have vaginal sex, in theory some of the sperm can get through (as they feel God intended) and then use the semen still in the condom for the actual IVF.

This leads some people to say things like "but the baby isn't conceived out of LOVE" as if people with fertility problems (and LGBTQ people who use assistive reproductive technology) don't love their partner. And as if half of pregnancies aren't conceived by accident - many of whom are literally from one night stands, some of which are also conceived out of rape. I'd argue that a couple waiting years to conceive, and often spending a hefty chunk of money, are doing so out of love and a very deep desire to have and love a child.

(More after the cut)

But also, once a child is born, they are worthy of love and respect regardless of the circumstances of their birth. IVF babies (and rape babies, one night stand babies, babies who were not wanted etc) are not lesser humans because their conception doesn't fit some narrow narrative).

Also, they often hate masturbation and are really weirded out by fertility clinic sperm collection rooms because they MAY have porn in them. But like... there's nothing saying the sperm donor can't be looking at pictures of his wife. You don't have to use the porn. And these days they expect you to use your phone to your taste, anyway. But also, if you are masturbating with the express intent to impregnate your wife, it's not Onanism? Because he got in trouble for trying to deny his brother's widow an heir as was expected at the time. That said for some people any form of spilling seed not inside your partner is some sort of grave Sin.

They want to stop LGBTQ+ people having kids - I saw one post alleging that one gay man who had kids via a surrogate was a child abuser - and their argument was "this is why surrogacy and IVF are always EVIL" . They want the "right" people to have kids. They want to get to decide who these "right" people are. LGBTQ people are not Bad People and have every right to want a family if they choose - their right to do so shouldn't be curtailed by someone else's religion.

As stated, many people fear women taking reproductive control. They fear and hate contraception. They fear and hate abortion. They fear and hate IVF for those same reasons. They fear and hate surrogates because why would a woman choose to give up her child? IVF and IUI lets single women and lesbians have kids. Sometimes they even cite how these treatments are Just A Tool Of The Patriarchy, as if women aren't able to make their own choices about wanting kids, without a man to do it for them.

There's a propensity for people to forget that bad people can, and sadly always to some degree, will, have kids unassisted, and the majority of people who are shitty parents or even abuse their kids, don't need medical help to get kids. We cannot usually predict who will end up being a bad parent or abusive ahead of time (so we need to be vigilant and act early if there are legitimate concerns), but and it's not our job to police who gets to have kids - outside of authorised services taking steps to ensure safeguarding of kids once they are born.

Part of many people's deeply held beliefs, even if they are atheist, is the christian idea that if you work hard and are good, bad things will not befall you, and that bad things are a punishment from above. Therefore if you do have any kind of health problem, some people consciously or subconsciously believe that on some level, you must have done something to deserve it. This often leads to people smugly saying things like "infertility is just your body/fate/Gd/nature saying you shouldn't have kids!" If you help people who are suffering, then in their eyes you are upending the normal order of things - they see infertility as a punishment we shouldn't be saved from.

Leading on from the above, some people (admittedly, usually pro life atheists, who do seem to exist) are pretty mad that fertility treatment is, in their view affecting human evolution by not letting those of us with - in their view undesirable genes- die out. I don't know why this is a big thing for them, but it is.

Which is ironic because people often misunderstand IVF and say IVF is practicing eugenics... whilst people simultaneously use arguments dangerously close to eugenics to try to deny people IVF. It's also not really medically accurate since there are a lot of completely non genetic causes of infertility. People seem to think IVF parents are put there choosing to have tall blue eyed kids, when in reality conventional IVF with PGTA may allow parents to select against certain known high risk genetic conditions, it's not really legal to use it to pick random characteristics. Many genetic conditions are sex-linked, so parents sometimes find out the gender, but most of the time the advice is to transfer the embryo that looks most likely to succeed, and not select for gender - and in many places this is heavily regulated or not allowed at all. Could there be a handful of super rich people bribing IVF doctors to pick 'designer' babies? Maybe? But the vast majority of people undergoing IVF are just normal people trying to bring a pregnancy to term with a live baby. That's it.

IVF, like human reproduction in general, uses a lot of embryos that won't become pregnancies. This is because our reproductive system is kind of Janky. We can lose 10+ eggs each menstrual cycle because our body prepares multiple follicles but only one will mature and be released (if you release 2, that's how you get fraternal twins!) - the rest just die. IVF allows us to mature ALL these eggs and collect them, and give them all a chance at being used.

The pro life crowd are often disturbed by the number of embryos frozen. But realistically, whilst it's not impossbile to do IVF by just taking out 1 egg at a time, but that would be much, much more inefficient, time consuming, expensive, and frankly much more dangerous for the gestating partner/egg donor as they would have to go through the risks of a lot more egg retrieval cycles. Embryos are preferred as they actually freeze a lot better than eggs, and are much less likely to die in the process.

The pro life crowd kind of forget about miscarriages and why they happen. A good chunk of unassisted pregnancies conceived the old fashioned ways will simply become early miscarriages - this is baked into our reproductive biology as a way to stop foetuses with severe genetic abnormalities developing, among other reasons. Now, people will often hear that not all embryos will be picked/used by couples, or that the "best one" will be picked, and assume that the other embryos are being bullied. But actually... not all eggs will fertilise. Many embryos may fertilise but will stall and die before becoming mature enough to implant back into the body - which would just have been a non-perceptible miscarriage if it happened in the body and is very normal/common with unassisted conception. Of the embryos that were frozen, some will die after being thawed. Of the embryos that are inserted back into the body as part of IVF, some will not implant, or will implant and lead to an early miscarriage. Just as they would have done if conceived in-utero. It's just that with IVF we KNOW the number of eggs and track it at every stage, and we see it happen. Whereas with unassisted conception, it just looks like the couple had sex for a few months and no babies happened, and maybe she had a late period or a chemical pregnancy.

You're right to point out that many take issue with the fact that some embryos may not be used at the end. Weirdly, people always seem to have the most bad faith takes on couples doing IVF - because they've probably been listening to lots of anti-choice propaganda that portrays them as spoiled and choosy, rather than y'know, people with a reproductive disability using medical help to overcome their conditions. They paint these couples as entitled, wanting "perfect" children, willing to discard all their poor babies in ruthless pursuit of designer eugenic kids. But most IVF parents aren't Elon Musk wannabes. IVF often takes 3 or 4 cycles on average before you get a viable pregnancy, and most couples use every single embryo - and then need to retrieve eggs more than once. IVF can be enormously taxing on the gestating parent's body. It can take a long time - we're talking multiple months sometimes to complete one attempt at implanting an embryo. It can be ruinously expensive and hard to navigate around your job. People aren't just doing it for the fun of it but because they've examined their options with a highly trained clinician and have decided that this is the path for them.

Most 'unused' embryos are usually dying or have serious genetic abnormalities that will almost certainly result in them failing (ie lead to a miscarriage or stillbirth) - so not implanting these saves the heartbreak down the line. There are also ways around wasting embryos - couples can choose to implant every one individually regardless of how poorly that embryo is doing. Some religious couples choose to transfer "spare" ones at the end, at a part of the cycle where they are unlikely to implant, but that way it's left in the Lord's hands. Others choose to donate their embryos to others.

I find that religious objectors talk about unused embryos as if there are millions of them out there (rather like they imagine there are millions of kids needing adoption, like unwanted puppies and kittens in shelters, when there rally are not) - but every single couple I've seen talking about IVF (and I've seen many) talk about how few embryos they have, and how desperate they are for one of them to stick, because they aren't sure if they can afford to have treatment to make more. The vast majority of couples simply aren't left with a ton of unused embryos - and many couples who don't manage to conceive choose to end their journey after using their last embryo.

I still do not understand why pro-life people are anti-IVF, like correct me if I am wrong but that shit is the opposite of an abortion. What the fuck could possibly be the problem with a medical treatment that makes people have more kids. Do you want people to have kids or not?? Genuinely like I can at least follow the thought process that someone who is anti-abortion justifies their bullshit with even if I wholeheartedly disagree on every point, but despite twisting my brain for hours I do not understand how you go from "killing babies and birth control is wrong -> but also having kids in a slightly different way is also wrong" like??? What are you even talking about????

[lsunstreakerl]

Love how fmf has reached the point of no magic except:

- very fast horses

- win winreems and other creatures

- whatever powers fucking winreems gave to House Verstappen (or maybe House Kumpen since Jos seemed to be weirded out)

- pussy potion

Did I forget anything?

LOOOOOL so! fun fact! that I've been sitting on because i think it's mildly hilarious-

I lied :D but to address each point:

- yes they are very fast and magical and only occasionally get spooked by stupid things like leaves

- the winreems themselves aren't magical, but different parts of the world tend to have intense concentrations of different kinds of energies. best example in fmf is the northern mountains. I reference it in one of rico's povs, how they understand the northerners are just a little bit different- almost a sense of uncanny valley to see them in combat.

- sharp eye that it's actually from sophie's side of the family! for bureaucratic purposes, the "house" follows jos and his bloodline, as is custom for the kingdom. culturally however, their head family is the kumpen line. max and victoria are a special case where those two different lineages are now combined! which is another reason why max has such devotion back home (especially in comparison to jos, who is not part of the kumpen line and as such doesn't have that respect) ((also also- this is why max is more inclined to view "his people" separately from rico's regular kingdom, which leads to some of the conflicts rico experiences up at the mountains.))

- pussy potion lives on and strong.

nothing that you've forgotten, but a few other fun facts:

- those concentrations of energy I mentioned? not just in the mountains. there's a very large amount in the ocean just off of the southern coast of rico's territory...

- there's an additional concentration further east where saddik's stronghold is/was. unfortunately for him, he lost some of those abilities just a bit the further he got from the source. if they'd fought on his territory, max would have lost. (this same thing actually also happens to max- he's just a tiny bit duller back in the kingdom than he is in the mountains, but it's barely noticeable, especially compared to drop in performance saddik experienced.)

- there's also one not too terribly far from the castle! these different concentrations tend to showcase different "blessings", so to speak. for max, it manifests in the winreem traits (more on that in another post). off the coast in the ocean, it might allow for a different evolutionary path than most humans. for saddik, he was able to grow larger and hit harder than he logically should have been able too, but he was also exposed to the "castle" concentration when he was younger as well.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

TW: intrusive thoughts (regarding falling to death, including picturing himself and other people dying from a fall as well as their corpses. Also a quick blink and you miss it allusion to how these thoughts impact Tim's relationship with food)

Welcome to unreliable narrator central. I have a lot of thoughts on the Tim/Jason dynamic. This is not very Jason friendly btw because Dick will always be Tim's Robin (after all, Jason was the replacement first)

To Tim, the most notable thing about Jason is that he isn't Dick. Maybe that changed over time, although I am not sure about that. He is stubborn as fuck and he needs a way to rationalize illogical emotions. He also hates being wrong.

The Flying Graysons are the ones to invade his dreams every night. Whenever he is high up, he can't help but want. Not really, of course (of course not, of course of course), but he knows that the closest he will ever get to being them is falling down and down and down. Sometimes he thinks about Dick and it almost feels worth it. He just wants to know what they were thinking, if it hurt, what they saw and what they felt before they became nothing at all. He is terrified of heights and always makes sure to sit at the window. Loves letting his legs dangle down the edge.

Sometimes he notices how weird arms look, or how long neck are, or how crooked his knee is, or how unnatural their bodies contorted when they fell on the ground. Is it exaggerated, in his mind? It must be, but he doesn't think so. If only his elbow was just a bit higher up maybe he wouldn't feel so wrong. He has managed to find a video of the night, downloaded it before it got taken down. He doesn't watch it, but just knowing it is there makes him feel oddly secure. He avoids mirrors on some days, as well as food.

(They look so elegant, even as they are falling. Weightless, as if their bones were hollow)

The clip with the quadruple somersault goes into the same folder as the fall. He wants to re-watch it, but it feels wrong without seeing the other video, too, and he can't bear to see that one. What if the night is different from how he remembers? Or worse, what if it is exactly the same?

Tim only became truly obsessed with the bats when he realized that Robin is Dick. Robin and Batman are symbols, larger than life, inhuman. To Tim, Dick has been just that for even longer, fulfilling his role even before he first hit the streets. That hug, a ray of light just before the tragedy that will reshape Tim's worldview forever. Of course Dick Grayson is Robin, it could never be anyone else.

Robin can do a quadruple somersault, something barely anyone in the world is capable of. Robin isn't a person. He is so much more. Even more than Robin, Dick is so much more.

Jason is a person. He can not do the somersault. And yet he wears his colors and pretends to fly.

It shakes up one of the foundations of his entire worldview, even though he has no right to it, even though he knows it shouldn't. And he hates hates hates hates it (not that he admits it. He doesn't know why he feels so strongly the first time he sees the other boy playing dress up. Heavy and down to earth and not at all what Robin is supposed to be. He just knows that he sees Dick flying and Jason falling falling falling-)

(it feels wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong)

Tim is honest when he says he doesn't want to be Robin. They have debates about vigilantism in boarding school, about the dangers of serving justice and revenge outside of the law. There is no one more fallible and human than him, and vigilantes aren't allowed to be like that. To make mistakes. To be so fascinated by death. By falling. Sometimes he can feel the wind against his cheeks as he sits in the classroom, windows closed in the winter.

(Dick's anger is - like everything else - elegant. It feels purposeful, even when it isn't. It is not like Jason's rage, that feels so close to his own.)

Tim was there on the day that Dick's parents were murdered and a part of him will stay stuck there forever. He is good at recognizing patterns. He knows where Dick got the inspiration for the costume and he can't help but resent Jason for taking it away from him. From taking Dick away from Gotham, from Tim. And he knows these thoughts are obsessive and weird but he can't help it. And isnt that Di- Robin's job anyways? To be a source of comfort and hope?

He resents Jason, but a shameful part of him is grateful because Robin has never been so close to touch. Jason is human and that means he can fall. The thoughts get worse after Dick (his hero, his hope, the beacon that can guide him away from the hellscape that is his brain) is gone. His arms were so thin when they wrapped around him, so many years ago. He looks at Jason and sees a mangled corpse. He researches what the impact does to a body and applies it to John and Mary and Jason and himself.

(Not Dick. Never Dick. Richard Grayson is Robin, he would never do something as human as to fall)

(he regrets researching)

Dick is bright and large and beautiful. He is a true Robin, always defying gravity, always flying. It is a betrayal, in a way, to put a human being in the costume. A part of him is not surprised when Jason dies. A bigger part of him can't help feeling it is his fault. It's ridiculous of course - he doesn't have the powers to do so, he isn't Dick. Jason didn't even fall to his death. But he remembers all those visions- Jason, limbs contorted in ways that shouldn't be possible; Jason, bones breaking through skin; Jason, hair glued together by bits of brain. And all the while Dick is flying, higher and higher and all the way in space

[bedheaded-league]

The other day I finished listening to the amazing podcast Fawx & Stallion and had a million thoughts about it, and particularly about the INGENIUS character arc they chose for Holmes. I fell asleep thinking about what might have happened in the gap between certain events in the finale and when I woke up, I wrote a short fic about a missing scene where Holmes and Watson had the conversation I'd fallen asleep thinking about. And then I realized I was crying and couldn't figure out why. And then I ended up writing a short essay in the AO3 notes that I didn't at all intend to write about what this interpretation of Holmes means to me and the sort of crazy emotional revelations I had while thinking about the podcast and writing this fic. I thought I'd post a version of my mini essay over here for people who aren't interested in reading the fic or haven't listened to the podcast yet (go do it, though.) No spoilers for actual events in the podcast, but I will be discussing the emotional character arc for Holmes.

I wrote this fic mostly in one sitting, then I got up and got coffee and read back what I wrote. When I got to the end I realized I was crying real tears. At my own fic. Which is unusual. And then I realized that I was crying because I had accidentally written about myself. The struggle that Holmes faces in Fawx & Stallion is one that I (and many other previously "gifted kids," especially those with ADHD/autism/etc) have also faced: the inevitable burnout that happens after years of pushing yourself to the limit because your self-worth is so intrinsically tied to how impressive you can be to other people.

This is such an interesting character arc to give Sherlock Holmes, and a fucking PERFECT one. Of course he's terrified of not being amazing, because what other worth does he have as a person? What does it matter if he pushes himself past his own limits? Who even is he if he isn't successful? What if he never does anything special ever again? Why would anyone stick around if he doesn't make it worth their while with his talents? These fears are all familiar to me. I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 25, AFTER clawing my way to a college degree and then spectacularly burning out (a burnout I'm still working to recover from). I've spent a lot of time dealing with the fact that I may never be able to do the same things I used to be able to do. I've been disabled by my mental health issues for years, and while I hope things won't always be this way, I don't know what the future holds. What if I can't be the cool, capable person I used to be? What if I just fail at everything I try to do from now on? What if I can't ever provide anything of value to the world? Will anyone want to keep me around, or will I just become a burden?

But of course, if Holmes expressed these fears to the people who love him, they'd be baffled. They'd tell him that of course they'd still love him if he wasn't spectacular, what a ridiculous notion! They don't love him because of all the cool shit he does. They love him for his violin playing, for nights out at the theater and Mancini's, for stealing forks, for his kindness to people who need it, for conversations over tea. And we, the real-life people who love him, feel the same way! We love reading his adventures, but we also love reading about him keeping bees in Sussex! We love hearing about his and Watson's domestic moments! One of my favorite fics is about him and Watson getting chickens for their backyard!

I really didn't mean to write an entire essay here, but I just have so many thoughts about this characterization of Holmes and how perfect it is. I realized after writing the fic that the things that Watson says to Holmes are exactly what I myself needed to hear, and I didn't even notice. I guess I just think it's really cool how sometimes, creating fiction can end up exposing truths we didn't even know we were digging for. That's one of my favorite things about storytelling.

Anyway, turns out it's really effective therapy to latch onto fictional characters who have the same problems as you and then write really self-indulgent fluff where they're reassured, comforted, and told exactly what they need to hear. It's really hard to tell yourself things that contradict your own insecurities and fears, but it's easy to believe those same things about a character you love. So if I can believe that Holmes doesn't need to be spectacular in order to be loved, maybe I can finally start to believe it about myself.

If you've stuck around this long, thanks for coming to my unscheduled TedTalk, which is turning out to be nearly half the length of the actual fic. And thank you SO MUCH to the team at 224bbaker for writing such poignant and beautiful character arcs. Character wise, this may be my new favorite version of Holmes and Watson (definitely my favorite Watson, but it's just impossible to beat Jeremy Brett, so I'm gonna say this Holmes is a very close second). This podcast is a gift to the Holmes fandom that we've been waiting like 130 years for.

(Here's the chicken fic, btw. It's by the lovely @two-nipples-maybe-more)

[bartletslesbians]

Okay but @onekisstotakewithme is angelic (that's unrelated, it just has to be mentioned sometimes) and has me thinking about Toby/Tabatha (the US poet laureate) and that's spiralling into "season 4, nothing changes except Toby/Tabatha is becoming a thing at the same time that Andy's pregnant".

Because there aren't many women who would hear "I want to date you, but you should be aware that me and my ex wife with who I have a complicated relationship are still trying for a baby" and be cool with that. But Tabatha? Absolutely she would be, actually? She hears that, and she says that's very cool, and she'd love to meet that ex wife, and hopes the next transfer will be successful.

And it would balance things so perfectly actually! I don't at all want this to come across as a "she can fix him, as is her job" narrative, not in the slightest. (People throw Andy and CJ his way for that purpose way too easily already!) But I do think she has the kind of... normal and stable but intriguing enough like, outlook on life and this situation to both be very comfortable dating a man who's having kids with his ex wife, while being able to offer some genuine stability to that man while it's happening lmao. She's chill! This sounds exciting! Toby could calm the fuck down a little with her presence, and it's better for everyone involved.

No proposals, no wedding demands, no house scene. Andy gets to be pregnant without that whole mess attached to it, Toby gets to prepare for fatherhood without getting sucked into "but we should get married before that happens, it's the right thing to do", Tabatha gets to get to know Toby during a tumultuous time in his life and love him anyway. Couplets are being written about twin babies. Tabatha and Andy are becoming friends.

Toby is still worried about how all this is gonna play in the media, Andy is excited for the extra storm it could bring, Tabatha is fascinated by how this all works as long as no one's asking her to downplay her feelings. Co-parenting for the kids is only hard to sell to conservatives who hate the whole concept of a working single mother anyway.

When the twins are born (I'm gonna pretend Tabatha's presence magically means the kidnapping doesn't happen), there's no disastrous proposal before the birth. There's some snapping from Andy because at some point she gets tired of this woman reciting poetry while she's in labor, but it's fine. Molly and Huck each get a little personalised couplet for the birth announcement cards and that makes up for everything.

Toby is more involved with the twins, cause the proposals never happened and the house scene never happened and he has someone in his life telling him he can't let his own fear and feelings keep him from being a presence in the twins' lives. Tabatha wants to see the twins, can ease that fear, and in doing that makes it so much easier on Andy too who now doesn't have to do most of it by herself. A little unconventional? Sure, but it works and it works well and that's what actually matters.

Just !! It would be so much fun, and just such an actually sweet AU? It could make the whole pregnancy a much less painful storyline overall? And I need it desperately actually.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I'm guessing you you aren't the biggest wolf star fan? what do you think of them?

and of unrequited Sirius/James & James/Lily (where Sirius like James but James likes Lily and Lily likes James)?

Yep, you got my taste in Mauraders shipping in one with this.

I can see the appeal of adult Wolfstar, when it's a little toxic and their both using each other as a James stand-in, but not the common fanon portrayal of Wolfstar. Even as adults, though, it's not a ship I'm very interested in.

I discussed the Mauraders' dynamic here, and that kinda explains the way I see the teenage Mauraders. James is the glue holding it together; he's the one they all look up to. James and Sirius are the tight-knit freinds "never saw one without the other", Pettigrew trailing after them, and they hang out with Lupin, but they weren't close to Lupin. (Lupin also seems to like James more than Sirius, again, he's the glue holding it together).

I think it's telling about Remus and Sirius's friendship that Sirius (and James) thought Remus was the traitor, and Remus didn't bat an eye about Sirius getting sent to Azkaban as the traitor — they weren't close, and they didn't really trust each other. So the only Wolfstar I can see, is post-Azkaban, after James is dead. where they're trying to be best friends again, except they never really were, and James isn't there to hold everything together.

But, I am an unrequited Prongsfoot truther. I wrote in the past that James was Sirius's person and vice versa. They were kinda insane about each other, and it's clear Sirius remained closer to James and Lily after Hogwarts than the other Marauders. Sirius was the best man at Jily's wedding. Sirius was Harry's godfather. Sirius was James's first choice of secret-keeper. Sirius was the one Lily wrote to in hiding. And Sirius is very hung up on James. He can't say anything bad about James without blaming himself too. James is faultless in his mind because of how much he loves James. When he's excusing James's behaviour to Harry, it comes with heaps of praise about how great James was in everything.

Obviously, it can be platonic love, and it can 100% be read as such in the same way Snilly can be read as platonic. But it can also be read as romantic. The same way Severus's unrequited love for Lily can be read as romantic, so can Sirius's love for James. (It really is "Harry Potter and the people who wanted to fuck his parents" sometimes).

We don't see any implication that Sirius was interested in anyone romantically — except James, if you want to read into it (I linked a more thorough post about this 2 paragraphs ago).

There is this scene, for example:

With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed. 

(OotP)

Sirius doesn't care for the girl(s) looking at him (and you know she's being obvious, Harry is our narrator, and he isn't great when it comes to romance), but Sirius, quite literally, only has eyes for James. The argument of unrequited Prongsfoot can be made based on the text. In my headcanon for this, Sirius never told James. James was in love/fixated on Lily — even though James saw Sirius as more of his equal than the other 2 Mauraders, Sirius wasn't going to risk it. To risk the most important person to him for what he sees as a crush that he can deal with.

So, yeah, your guess is accurate.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok is not as autistic coded in-narrative compared to what I've seen of Spock or T'Pol where they're othered heavily by those around them and have themes and arcs about struggling/striving to fit in BUT I do think he provides the vital autistic representation of not really angsting about your differences from other people because you're too busy and unaware and then even when you ARE made aware you mostly just think 'glad that's not me'. I think it's vital to have that sort of totally unbothered rep. I love that Tuvok is completely satisfied and proud of being Vulcan, doesn't long to experience emotion or struggle with a desire to express himself in a way his crewmates will understand, to be closer to them. I love that he has a long time and close friend that respects who he is and doesn't try to change him and that how close they are isn't framed as being in spite of his Vulcan nature. I love that being Vulcan isn't framed as a hindrance to him, like a roadblock to living a full and rich life. He has a wife and four kids and is a devoted husband and father. He's getting into gay horror scenarios. Tuvok was born on autism planet and he's thriving.

[minhosblr]

I think it's fine for people to complain about something they paid lots of money for ngl

[your-dear-memmy]

I think that Kaito would fall first as well.

Kaito is way more open about his feelings, and even though his denial would run deep, it wouldn't be as deep as Kokichi's, who we know from his own words comes from a different and possibly rougher background than Kaito, which means that he'd struggle with the situation even outside of the killing game-induced trauma.

There's also the matter of if Kaito is aware of his own attraction to guys beforehand, or if his traditional upbringing made him develop internalized homophobia out of ignorance, as it would distance him a few more steps from being able to achieve a romantic relationship with Kokichi. He'd care way more about that within a HPA AU, of course. It's one of my headcanons :)

Post-game VR AU it could become codependency from the trauma bond (Kaito never dropped his hero mask around anyone but Kokichi, Kokichi never dropped his villain mask around anyone but Kaito) but I feel like they could genuinely hang out after their insides were flayed open and raw, and that'd happen initially because of Kaito's guilt. It would dominate the entirety of their interactions at first, and it'd definitely piss Kokichi off, but after seeing Kokichi's true face I think Kaito would definitely be able to fall in love first, because he'd be able to put himself on the same level as Kokichi without feeling the need to play hero. Meanwhile, Kokichi would need a bit more time, as the guilt he himself harbors is a bit different and also he's emotionally constipated as fuck, and they would keep fighting and arguing because they're both prideful morons who aren't taking the situation well and have terrible coping mechanisms. It would take sooo fucking long for them to actually deem each other friends and it'd still make them cringe, but the basis for a romantic relationship would be there, they just need to figure it out after like... A 400k word long situationship slowburn, rivals to enemies to partners in crime to unlikely friends to qpr to lovers...

In a Despairless Hope's Peak AU it really depends, because every action Kokichi takes in the killing game is dictated by the need to hide his intentions from the mastermind, so he'd certainly act different in a less murderous context, and wouldn't need to lie to himself as much just to survive. He'd be a bit more straightforward without the death game, at least. He could present his leader characteristics more directly without the fear of getting screwed over, and he could oftentimes butt heads with Kaito due to it. I can actually see Kokichi pining in a "ugh" way in this context, as Kaito's borderline arrogance isn't displayed as infuriatingly as it is in a heavy setting. Kokichi would pine while simultaneously trying to shave off Kaito's goatee, but I still feel like by that point Kaito would be in the denial stage of pining already, too. They'd have a friendly rivalry, and they'd have real fights as well, but Kaito would probably be more inclined to believe in Kokichi. Kaito likes to chase and Kokichi likes being chased, after all, so they'd be the kind of friends that argue all the time in a way that doesn't seem playful to anyone but them. After accepting his feelings for Kokichi, Kaito would lowkey be so cringe about it... He'd still try to keep his pride intact but I think he's pretty big on romance due to his grandparents. Meanwhile Kokichi would still be hesitant- it's a common headcanon that he never had parental figures, so I don't think he really has a healthy vision of romance established in his head or even has one at all- so the slowburn shall continue 💪

Been tripping about this for a while, but excluding in-game because realistically it wouldn't happen

Who do you guys think falls first in oumota? 🤔

To me, it has to be Kaito, it probably takes a long time for Kokichi to even *think* about trusting the dude, imagine how long it would take for him to actually develop romantic feelings..

But even then, Kaito would also take ages to admit he even likes Kokichi platonically let alone romantically lol biggest slowburn ever, idiots both of them.

[bayetea]

I think it's really annoying that leo has completely falsified memories of jason too and this is barely acknowledged in the books

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[miniagula]

movie sonadow would be so l umity-coded…and i say this bc their dynamic is similar to the games but with a different and tender perspective: they both empathize deeply with each other now, and this shadow is not as reticent or closed off bc of that. that being said: movie!sonic would ABSOLUTELY 'YOU'RE the sweet potato!' the hell out of shadow