#this has been in the drafts for a minute

[cowboyjigen]

when the wind blows aka roger comforting his daughter when she needs him

warnings: fem reader obvs by the title lol, this is really just a self indulgent fix cause i’ve been feeling bad recently and watching the roger flashbacks

the sea was quiet: a rare sight especially on the grand line. but still there was a certain silence filling the oro jackson. it was painful almost. the normally jolly crew had been shushed as soon as the smile on their captains face dropped, also a rare sight.

“something’s wrong.” roger finally spoke up.

“what’s could possibly be wrong, roger?” rayleigh quipped a small laugh leaving his mouth. roger was not amused by his best friends joke. “roger, everything is fine. it’s just a quiet night is all.”

roger huffed, “maybe i’m just tired.” as if they knew something everyone else didn’t, shanks and buggy shared a look before silently skittering away. taking another sip of his drink, roger glanced around at his crew.

“they head in for the night, not like anything is jumping for your attention right now, captain.” roger nodded in agreement to what gaban had said, setting his mug down and pushing himself up.

“right, i’ll head in then.” with a final nod, he moved towards his cabin.

when he finally approached the door to his quarters, there stood shanks and buggy firmly blocking the door. “can i help you two?”

“sorry captain we can’t let you in here.” shanks was the one who spoke up, not to much surprise on rogers behalf.

“and why is that?”

“strict orders captain.” buggy nodded while speaking

“stricter than those of your captain?”

the blue haired boy paled a bit but shanks stood his ground, “yes sir, she said she’d kick our asses if we let anyone in until she said we could.”

oh. oh.

it made sense to roger now. not just the boys standing unwavering in front of his door but also why it felt so quiet. “i’m afraid you’re just gonna have to have your asses kicked boys.” they shared a look, “or if you let me in now, i’ll put in a good word for you.”

the two nodded at eachother before splitting ticket roger through. “but if she asks, you fought us to get it! we didn’t give up easily!”

roger laughed slightly and nodded, pushing the door open. “sweetie?” stifled sobs rang out from the corner of the room.

they belonged to a lump in the sheets that quivered every few seconds when a particular loud cry would sound. “no one’s here, go away.”

humoring her, roger sat himself on the floor next to his own bed. “hmm we’ll if no one is here then i guess i can crawl in my bed and sleep then.” he emphasized his words by pressing down onto the wood boards below which let out a strong creaking noise.

“go away, dad.”

“oh so there is someone in here! i got worried there was a ghost for a second!” turning around on the floor, roger lifted the blankets covering his daughter. “what’s got you like this, kid?”

he crawled in next to her, holding her close. she shook her head into his chest. “no. it’s embarrassing.”

“cant be too embarrassing right? would it make you feel better if i told you something embarrassing first to make it feel better?”

“maybe, it depends.”

roger smiled before pretending to think hard about what he was going to share. “let’s see, back when it was just me and uncle rayleigh i spent a dumb amount of time trying to figure out what outfit would be the best to wear incase the marines took my mug. well one day i was take a bit longer than normal and uncle rayleigh walked in on me half naked in this ugly frilly shirt.” Y/N sat there giggling in his arms, “see? makes you feel a bit better about you right?”

she nodded slightly before frowning again, “i miss mom.” roger stiffened. he too missed rouge, it had been a few weeks since they had last seen each other. “see it’s embarrassing!” tears once again threatened her eyes but roger just held her tighter.

“it’s not embarrassing sweetie, i miss her too.” he combed his fingers through her hair, “but we’ll see her soon. we’re on our way back right now remember? and then she’ll be on the ship with us for a while.”

“i know, it’s just. sometimes i just feel like i need someone to talk to and she’s not here and,” she continued to ramble on before roger interrupted her.

“you know you can always talk to me right?”

“well yeah but you’re busy, i don’t want to distract you because of my dumb troubles.”

“nothing you say could be dumb to me sweetie. you’re still my daughter.”

she nodded, “thank you dad.”

“of course.” the pair sat there in each others arms for a few minutes before a knock came from the door. it opened to reveal shanks, buggy, and rayleigh. “how much of that did you guys hear?”

“say Y/N, do you want to see the picture of your dad in that shirt?”

“don’t you dare rayleigh.”

[egipci]

hiiii em happy dff <3 in the spirit of insane dads: what are some of the worst and most horrific things john would do to keep his sons safe? what lines would he cross? what morals would he toss aside for them? (and ofc, how does dean repay him for all this?) <3

Oh man. I'm not a big fan of the John-always-knew-something-was-wrong-with-Sam(-and-treated-him-badly-because-of-it) fanon, but that doesn't mean there weren't whispers among hunters and perhaps at times the need to off a guy or two, so there's that.

The worst thing he could do to them and for them would probably be super fucked-up forcible sex to save one of their lives, and actually I think that's the only take on (preseries) John/Sam that could seem plausible to me --- John's selfishness and need to control their lives taken to the worst possible extreme. (I've been working on ("working on") some J/D version of this for a while now, where Dean's resistance is in part shaped by a genuine desire to fuck his dad prior to any curse, and anxiety re: getting a taste of the thing you want when you know you can't have it again, but of course there's the ensuing resentment and humiliation after the fact, because it's Dean. In the John/Sam version of that Sam's anger and sense of violation would be much more straightforward. I'm sure someone has written something along those lines! Someone should send it my way if it exists (and is of at least middling quality))

[firelordhotman]

we talk a lot about how mental and physical disabilities are different lived experiences and just having one doesnt mean you understand the other, BUT i dont see a lot of people talk about how they can still interact with and feed off of each other!! so heres a shoutout to:

medical trauma survivors

medical abuse survivors

people with endocrine disorders that affect their brain chemicals

people who are depressed due to the isolation of living in an inaccessible world

people who are anxious due to ableism in the world

people whose mental illnesses led to their physical condition worsening

suicide attempt/self harm survivors who retained lasting injuries, pain, or other illnesses

physical abuse survivors who retained lasting injuries, pain, or other illnesses

people with chronic illnesses induced by eating disorders

people with chronic illnesses induced by substance abuse

developmentally disabled people whose condition affects both their mental and physical motor skills

people whose psychiatric medical team doesnt understand their physical barriers

people whose physical medical team doesnt understand their mental barriers

people caught in the loop of their mental and physical conditions making each other worse

and everyone else who lives with me in the middle of the venn diagram of physical & mental disabilities. its hard when everyone seems to assume you can only be one or the other, especially on a website full of discourse yet entirely devoid of nuance. i love each and every one of you!

[bloompompom]

❊ content: ~400 wc. eren jaeger x reader, modern/college au, friends with benefits au, teasing pillow talk, sexual themes, explicit language.  18+ only

“Stop.”

It was a grumble pressed into the pillow, half-awake and only half-serious. 

“Stop what?” Your budding smile rang through your whisper. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t plan on stopping.

You ran your fingers through Eren’s hair again, combing through the length of it and trailing slightly down the divot between his shoulders. He was warm to the touch, his skin still tacky from your activities—the reason for his late-night visit, why he was spending the night in your bed. 

His shoulders scrunched like you had tickled him. “That.”

He meant it as a warning, but he didn’t say anything more than that, and he didn’t swat you away when you continued toying with his hair. Again, only his shoulders moved, slumping down into the mattress this time, relaxing into it. You couldn’t see his face then, but you were sure they looked just as heavy. 

Eren didn’t want to like it, not from you, his fuck buddy, but he did. 

He tucked an arm beneath his pillow and made himself comfortable. On a yawn, he lazily spoke, “I was actually thinking about cutting it soon.”

You frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“How come?” His voice was raspy, but his curiosity had clearly piqued. He didn’t budge; he just let you continue playing with his hair despite it supposedly bothering him. “You wouldn’t wanna fuck anymore?”

You gave a thoughtful hum, then concluded, “I’d just put a bag over your head.” He scoffed, leading you to giggle as you added, “No, I wouldn’t do that. We’d just stick to doggy style.”

Eren started to roll over, rearing to quip back at you. Before he could, you lightly pushed back on him, laughing, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

He was too tired to put up a fight, even a playful one. He sank back into the bed with a faux pout. “You only like me for my hair, I get it.”

“That’s not true,” you said, though your fingers had already returned to skimming through his hair. “You also have a pretty nice dick.”

His laugh was short and through his nose. “I’ll take that.”

“Good.” You dropped the ends of his hair, patted his back, then curled up beneath the blankets. “Now go to bed.”

“Wait.” 

You smiled when you heard it, knowing what he was about to ask. 

“Can you,” he started slowly, sheepishly, “keep doing that—just for another minute.”

[rockpapertheodore]

SORRY! Your application for gender reassignment has been DENIED. To become eligible for gender reassignment, you must complete at minimum ONE (1) quest from your current gender assignment.

CURRENT GENDER (GUY, subclass [THIS FUCKIN GUY]) Quests Remaining:

1. Get a lil sillay~* with it

2. Increase the decrease

3. Shenanigans

4. MASTER Kagebunshin no Jutsu

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[mothcpu]

Now feed me through the power line Wash me in your bloodless light

[zoneofsmites]

From my understanding cannibalism is not part of the Bhaalist doctrine. And yet the Dark Urge was (is?) very clearly a cannibal. As evident trough several dialogue options they themselves can say, the narrator mentioning it, and some npc’s saying so as well.

One that stands out to me is that cultist in the temple - pretty blonde twink - who is delighted the dark urge is back because Orin doesn’t let them feast on flesh like you do.

Part of their cannibalistic tendencies could simply be the Dark Urge. But the Urge is also (mostly) Bhaal’s will. And again, it isn’t part of the doctrine.

My suggestion is simply this: Something they have grown a taste for.

Sceleritas Fel comes to the dark urge after they’ve killed their adoptive family. Described as ‘a little Urge, barely an adolescent’.

They are young, and on the streets and have no way of really supporting themselves in that moment. Their butler is not exactly a help in that department either.

You are hungry.

But if you’re killing anyway, why let that body go to waste? Flesh can be eaten, and you are young and hungry. And your butler is delighted at your viscousness, it’s his suggestion even.

[strangesmallbard]

currently thinking about why some targaryen names are reused and not others. i think it’s mostly intentional, if not always. there are surface-level plot and characterization reasons why, but i also think these choices reinforce certain targ family narratives overall + reveal the patriarchy-laden marrow of the whole thing. none of these thoughts will be in logical order but bear with me LMAO.

i've already posted a bit about aegon, but also: the targaryens are trying to rebirth aegon i again and again and they always fail bc aegon i was always an ideal, not a real person who existed. aegon i was also an imperial conquerer; anyone who tries to live up to him will once again re-enact that violence on themselves, their family, and the people he subjugated. there’s “viserys” and never a living visenya; a warrior queen may have built this dynasty, but only her sons can take her place. the first rhaena targaryen, who had a similar political disposition to visenya, was denied the same power. (she was also named after rhaenys, known for being more gentle and kind-heated despite her own active participation in the conquest).

all three women/girls named rhaenys were, in different ways, overshadowed by male family members. rhaenys became a unwitting martyr to aegon (and visenya's) imperial cause, while rhaenys 2 was denied the throne in favor of viserys. rhaenys 3, meanwhile, is murdered during wartime; her younger brother was (maybe) saved to preserve rhaegar's bloodline. a bit like her first namesake, she becomes an unwitting symbol for oberyn's vengeance.

and there's more! king aenys was considered weak compared to aegon; no other children were named after him. maegor was considered too cruel, even by targaryen standards; no other children were named after him—except, of course, the royal quarters in the red keep are in a building called maegor's holdfast. his legacy follows every targ born since, even though they openly scorn his name. little prince jahaerys and princess jahaerya both die horribly because of a succession crisis that jaehaerys i helped cause. jaehaerys ii brought his namesake’s incest back, dooming his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren before they were ever born.

meanwhile, rhaella names dany because the last daenerys brought peace to westeros (according to the targaryen pov); all dany craves is that peace, even though she only knows how to express that desire through the violent vestiges of her ancestors. young griff inherited the Aegon Curse, despite his dubious origins. will it matter at all, in the end? as the banners are raised in his name? and there's the jon snow of it all, the secret targaryen named after his uncle's father figure. not his father's hoped-for visenya, nor another aegon. i hope he doesn't have a targaryen name at all, in the end. i think that would be much more powerful than anything else.

[nyaagolor]

Thinking about Franziska Von Karma again and the weird relationship she has to like. Femininity. This is a reading so far divorced from the author's intent that I was debating even posting it but w/e. anyway.

I think that there's a lot to be said about the ways that Franziska both embodies and rejects traditional aspects of femininity and how it ties into a lot of her deeper seated emotional conflicts. She presents herself as feminine in her movements and her outfits, but her actions are loud and violent and often immature at times, which I think is a really fun opposite to Manfred

Because while Franziska is a feminine presenting woman who embraces aspects seen as masculine, Manfred is a masculine presenting man who takes certain aspects seen as feminine as a power play to make him seem more elegant and professional. But!! in the same breath that Manfred's jewelry and eloquence make the other characters perceive him as graceful without that diminishing the power and intimidation he has, Franziska adopting masculine aspects make the other characters not take her seriously and see her as childish and unprofessional

Franziska adopts aspects of gender norms opposite from her presentation just like her father, but what works for him hurts her, and I think that's kind of a running theme in everything she does. She idolizes and emulates him, but she's in a catch-22-- she's so far removed from what he is and is so fundamentally different from him in so many ways that her attempts to copy him just come back to bite her, because it just doesn't run both ways and they were operating under a completely different set of expectations

TLDR I think Franziska is trying to play by Manfred's rulebook not realizing they were playing a different game from the start

[fernisworm]

I don’t take melatonin gummies I just let Miguel O’hara bite me with his paralysing venom. unhinged thoughts

[emblazons]

"Welcome, Sons of Fire."

Clive & Joshua Rosfield in Final Fantasy XVI

[prolibytherium]

I fucking love the running gag of Kabru just barely containing his disgust/horror while Laios looks on thinking "He's such a nice guy :)"

[matchandelure]

daigo

[photmath]

That one Trent Alexander-Arnold edit ✨

[taaalia]

HOW DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS ITS TOO FUXKING GOOD