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#both negative in scar's case
askdacast · 4 months
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"how did the guy with no friends win?"
except, he did have a friend in the end
Pearl, a past winner who was also all alone the entirety of DL and went mad because of it
Pearl, who won because the person who betrayed her at the very start atoned for what he did by sacrificing himself and giving her the win
("I guess I forgive you after all...")
Pearl, who after healing from that betrayal went on to open her heart to alliances in the end (Nosy Neighbors + Grian et. al.) and eventually did find one she could call...family (The Mounders)
Pearl, who was the ONLY one to extend that invitation to the friendless villain ("I guess you found your family after all, Scar")
Because she was the only one who knew what it was like to be all alone, like him
But also come back from that dark place and reach out to someone who suffered just like her
And in the end they became a duo, she even tried to sacrifice her life for that fellow 'undeserving' lonely person, and only didn't because he wanted a 'fair' (for a given definition of that word) fight
Even at the end, Scar's "I'm gonna get you Pearl!" loses just...a tinge of the angry, bitter bloodlust he'd been baring throughout the session, and sounds almost playful
And then "she's dead scar. you won."
He killed the only person left who considered him a friend because she, in a sense, gave her life to him
It didn't start with the duel. It started with her hand of forgiveness.
but also because Scar really did become so much better at pvp like dang his red kills were vicious
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sysig · 3 months
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Rainbows (Patreon)
#Doodles#UT#Handplates#Papyrus#Sans#This rainbow is all out of order - and so many negative glows ah :0#I didn't mean for them to trend negative! They were just easier to imagine the expressions - maybe I'll take a second pass on the positives#Or in green's case the negative :')#Again in order of when I drew them so kinda all over the place haha#I wanted to go in order! And then I got distracted pft - thus started with red ow :(#Honestly I was thinking of it just being a surprise-pain more than anything lol - like a splinter haha that wouldn't even pierce him!#D'you think that eyeglows could also act like automatic word-responses? Like how we say ''Ow'' when we're surprised but not hurt sometimes#Silly haha#The second is a lot less silly-intended tho more actual pain#It's also sad to think that Sans' red would pretty much have to be sympathy/emotional pain :(#The kind of survivors guilt of not being able to shoulder more but he's so fragile! It's not his fault!#I am quite happy with both of their expressions there tho especially their mouth shapes - and how the colours interact with their eyes#Lineless colours are some of my favourites :) You can tell it's my pencils and not my pen there 'cause it's feathery hehe#For example Edgar's scars are usually with my pen and they have an almost hard-line quality while my pencils are soft :) S'pretty#Switched colours! I unfortunately misremembered what their meanings were oops lol#Well I got them kinda half-right - I like blue as skeptical quite a lot :D I think it suits them both!#Sans as wary and logical and wanting to keep distance to assure his safety and what he can devote energy to - I like it!#And Papyrus using his brother's colour to be grown up in the way that Sans is hehe <3 It's sweet#I misremembered orange lol I assigned blue's alt meaning of ''curiousity'' - orange is meant to be bravery! Oops lol#I think I was thinking of Papyrus' childlike excitement and wanting to know and be involved! Haha#Greeeeens <3 Happy boys happy with each other! I love when they're happy ♥ Interlocked holding hands hehe#Pinks! Along a similar line! I like pink as platonic affection :D And as embarrassment lol but hgg the sweetness! The care and love!#Is my bias showing lol - especially with the bros sleeping on each other haha ♪ They're both happy to know the other is safe!#Couple'a stresses - I like Sans' more I'm not even gonna sugarcoat lol his expression turned out so good haha#And the inverse for the purples! I do like Sans' face but his body :P Papyrus tho - he turned out sad and perfect :')
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rreids · 10 days
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hey, i was wondering if you'd be able to write smth with Spencer in a relationship with someone with bpd? it's totally okay if you're not comfy with that, but I've just been suspecting i may have it, and ppl with bpd are always portrayed so negatively in relationships. it would be just rly nice to read ur take on how Spencer would handle that and just see some positive representation! (my mental health has also been shit so it would be p comforting lol) thank u 🫶
hi love 🫶 i don't know a ton about bpd, so i hope i did this justice! i researched the diagnosis and how healthy relationships help with regulation and in what ways they do (both accounts from experts and from those who are diagnosed). and i hope you feel better soon <3 it sucks when your mind fights against you.
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PROMISES • S. REID X READER
reader has bpd (written by an author without, ideally will be comforting rather than hurtful. please let me know if it is offensive in any way); gn!reader; spencer has to break a small promise but makes others; talks of therapy; teasing; fluff; ~500 words
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“Hey, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers into the phone, voice a little strained. “I’m really, really sorry, but I can’t make lunch today. We’re on the way to a case in Omaha. It’s a really bad one.”
Your heart sinks. “Oh.”
“You know I want to be there more than anything, right?” He’s shuffling papers in the background, and you know they’re in the middle of getting ready on the jet and that he’s still making time for you, but it still makes your mind race with worry and upset. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. And I promise I’ll take you out as soon as we’re back.”
You frown, fiddling with the promise ring on your finger. “Will you still talk to me?”
Spencer chuckles. “I think I go insane when I go too long without hearing your voice. As long as you don’t mind calls when it’s two a.m. there, I’m calling before bed every night I have enough time.”
You sigh.
“I know, honey. When’s your next meeting with your therapist?”
“Tomorrow,” you mumble, gnawing on your lip.
“Well, you have permission to talk about how much I suck,” Spencer teases lightly. “As long as you know it’s not by choice that I’m being a bad boyfriend.”
“You’re not a bad boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re the best boyfriend. You understand me.” He does. He’s looked into BPD extensively — he knows even more than you do, rattling off statistics, assumed causes and connections, coping methods, everything. He knows how to break you out of the spirals and to calm your impulsivities.
“You have other boyfriends?” Spencer sighs dramatically, and you laugh.
“Why would I have them? You’re more than enough.”
Spencer hums. “I am, aren’t I?” 
You groan.
“I’m messing with you,” his voice is fond and soft. “I gotta hang up, everyone’s coming and we need all our focus on this case. Message me if you need anything. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t do anything,” you know you’re exaggerating, but it’s hard to stop the words.
“I do, just nothing out of our normal,” he’s nudging you gently, reminding you to think things through before acting impulsively. “I give you permission to watch our show without me if it’ll keep you entertained.”
You laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll be good,” you draw it out.
Spencer snorts. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Spence.”
A beat.
“I’m not actually going to talk shit about you to my therapist, just so you know. I do talk about you though.”
And then you hang up. 
He sends you a ‘???’ and a ‘I wanted to say something still.’ right after. When you tell him to say it, he sends a ‘Do what you need to feel regulated. I don’t take it to heart, you know I don’t.’
And he doesn’t. He’s so sweet, so achingly perfect, understanding of when your moods swing, or when you feel empty, or whenever anything changes and you can’t tell why. 
And he always helps you down, kissing scars and tears and whispering praise as he gets you to feel right again.
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cherrifire · 1 year
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Fragment headcanons <3
For those who don't know, these are fragments:
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Art credit: me ;)
They are caused by Watchers eating up a player's negative emotions and visualize as these cracks in the body.
Note: I'm going to slap all Double Life fragments onto the heart. It just makes sense. So this headcanon list will be for 3rd/Last/Limited unless there is a special difference (Grian + Pearl + Jimmy + Ren). Just so I don't have to write over the heart several times.
Grian
The only fragment he has stretches across the back of his hands from where he had to beat Scar to death in 3rd Life.
He keeps the Watchers off him for the rest of the series by bringing a silly and goofy vibe to the games though. They hate him so bad so they haven't given him any more fragments. They would rather just ignore him.
Scott
3rd Life fragment wraps around his head like a flower crown.
Last Life fragment hits him in the shoulder then another on the bottom of his foot, spreading inside his body like lightning. (Think Aang's scar from Avatar the Last Airbender)
Limited Life fragment on the left side of his back, giving him a fragment on both sides of his heart. This is due to how hard his heart would have been pounding every time he was hunted for sport.
Pearl
Last Life, Pearl is granted 6 lives and has a habit of using/giving those lives to help Scott, her closest ally. The fragment is small and over the heart.
Pearl's experience in Double Life with heartbreak was so intense, and since she already had a fragment over the heart, her fragment for that season ended up huge. The cracks over her heart are wide and bright. But the Watchers loved her so much they sent her back in even though she wasn't ready. Meaning she held onto her emotions for Tilly and had to be swapped out with Lizzie for an episode.
Limited Life fragment is placed between her eyes and above on her forehead. Like a third eye for being a nosey neighbour and watching.
Martyn (We actually get to see his fragments at the end of Lim Life.)
3rd Life fragment spreads down the cheek like tears for when he cried losing Ren.
Last Life, on the back. The backstabber was backstabbed. He was completely willing to betray Grian in order to get himself, Mumbo, Jimmy, and Impulse somewhere nicer. Somewhere safer. The end. Only for the Watchers to reveal that was never the case.
Limited Life, over the hand his weapon was held in in which he had to kill Scott twice with.
Jimmy
All of Jimmy's fragments spread across his back like canary wings.
Scar
3rd Life, spreads across his chest from where that first creeper blew him up. The first death. Seems rather fitting for the guy who can't keep his shirt on.
Last Life, through his mouth, built from all the lies he spoke.
Limited Life, matching placements with the Clockers on the right forearm like a family tattoo.
Joel
3rd Life, a few small cracks spread around like dog bites.
Last Life, one of the biggest fragments and spread through his entire body. For every kill he got, he got a matching crack as if he was the one who died. His insanity means he has axe, sword, arrow, explosion, and fall damage cracks because with each kill he got worse.
Limited Life, kind of hidden based on just how many cracks Joel has, but starts above his chest and out through the bottom of his foot. Another lightning scar.
Etho
3rd Life, cracks spread from his finger tips up from digging his hands in the dirt to plant dark oak saplings.
Last Life is hard to place a fragment. Because I know he would get one for never giving Bdubs one of his lives but I don't know where that would place on the body. Back of the head for not thinking? Over the heart for the ache of regret? I'm not sure.
Matching fragment with the Clockers but it's on the wrong arm (left).
Bdubs
Bdubs is similar to Grian to me in a case where he brings a very goofy mood to the series. So I want to say he doesn't have a fragment for 3rd Life. Like, he betrays Impulse with 0 remorse.
Last Life, on the back where Grian shot him. That was the moment he realized Etho didn't love him as much as he thought. Shot for doing what he asked and never receiving another life. Etho's name on the tip of his tongue as he dies alone.
Limited Life, Clocker fragment, right forearm.
BigB
3rd Life, similar to Etho, I'm not sure where to place this one. But I think BigB would have a fragment for loneliness. BigB spends a lot of time that season on his own. And it's not like other seasons with lonely characters. Last Life Joel + Scar, Double Life Pearl, etc etc, they all still sort of had someone. Like Joel and Scar still technically had each other + Pearl technically had Scott, Martyn, and Cleo. BigB is mostly just doing his own thing for a good portion of 3rd Life and doesn't join a team till late season.
Last Life, matching stab fragment with Cleo because his betrayal on her hurt just as badly for him.
Limited Life, matching third eye fragment with Pearl for being a nosey neighbour.
Impulse
It's so easy to betray this guy. Both 3rd and Limited Life fragments are on his back from being backstabbed by both Bdub and Martyn. Though, the one left by Bdubs in 3rd life is more prominent and fractured.
Impulse doesn't get a fragment for Last Life. He didn't do much this season and thankfully was able to avoid any huge heartbreak.
Skizz
I think... despite not being in Double Life, Skizz has a huge fragment over the heart. It's not massive like Pearl's despite all 3 fragments being there simply because Skizz is filled with so much love. Love for his teammates and love for even his enemies.
3rd Life, he dies for his nation. Rushing in because he's tired of his friend being pushed around. (I will also never be over how Skizz RAN to Dogwarts when he heard Martyn beheaded Ren. He thought Martyn had betrayed Ren and was ready to CATCH HANDS despite only being in golden armour.)
Last Life, even when team BEST kicks him out, he's sure to stop in the middle of his threats to tell Tango that he's on Skizz's good side. And even though he's mad at his team, when he dies, his ghost watches over them anyway. Being the only one to hear Bdub's final words.
Limited Life we of course got the affirmation station. And when his time was up, he let Etho kill him so his whole team could stay in the game just a little longer even if Skizz could have kept trying for another 20 minutes. He loves so much it kills him almost every time.
Tango
Fragment hidden in his hair for his rage (hot-headed).
For the most part, Tango goes under the radar for the Watcher. His deaths are anticlimactic and there's never enough drama for him. They only pay attention to him when he's angry and this neglect means he holds onto grudges and hosts a furious rage for most people who have hurt him the most. Bdubs constantly being the one to take his lives in Last Life and inflicting the first rage. Martyn just never being a positive presence for Tango's POV meaning he doesn't trust him one bit. Like. Tango is Martyn's most frequent victim with 4 kills.
Cleo
Another case where I'm unsure where to put it. I think Cleo would have a fragment from the stress she had to endure from stealing and hiding Pizza.
Last Life, Cleo gets a stag fragment on her back for being backstabbed by BigB. The thing that makes this fracture special is how it doesn't stay the same. The Watchers forgot to remove part of her negative feelings towards BigB after this betrayal. As the series goes on, this fragment gets bigger and bigger since Cleo never forgives BigB for this betrayal.
Limited Life, Clocker fragment, right forearm. Additionally, part of her Last Life fragment settles down thanks to her short swap with Gem.
Ren
A crack around the neck, fracturing from the back where Martyn beheaded him. Similar to Scar's explosion fragment being important because he's the first death of the series, I think this fragment is also significant since it's the first PvP kill. The first weapon drawn.
Like Skizz, Ren is also a lover. Filled with love, loyalty, and dedication to the people he cares about. His heart fracture spreads across his heart for the same reasons. He would lay his life on the line for his allies. And I think BigB leaving him for Grian broke him so much inside he couldn't return to Limited Life.
Lizzie
She wasn't built for this series. Wasn't built to be killed in cold blood by her soulmate Joel and his red life insanities. But she was healthy enough to be brought because just a little to stand in for Pearl.
Mumbo
He also wasn't built for this series. They snapped him in half bro. Being killed by Grian was too much.
If you disagree with anything or have any of your own ideas please let me know in the comments/tags <3
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hawkins-losers · 2 years
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My hero | Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Following his attack by the demo-bats, Eddie is left with a new insecurity
Word count: 1.6k
Warning: mention of body negativity(?), trauma, insecure!eddie
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Since Eddie had woken up from his coma at the hospital, he'd been very adamant about not wanting you to see his bites - his scars. Every time a nurse would come in to change his bandages and check on them, he would demand you to leave the room. At first, you thought he didn't want you to be grossed out - let’s be real, they were really gnarly -, but you realized it was deeper than that when he refused your help to shower, only accepting the old nurse to undress him.
He didn't want you to see them - at all. You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt a little. 
Even after they had healed, he would lock the bathroom when he would shower, and change in the bathroom, too scared of you walking in on him changing in his bedroom. He was ashamed of all the bite marks and scratches the bats left behind. 
You respected his privacy, but it broke your heart to see him like that. 
The 'old' Eddie didn’t give a shit what he looked like under his clothes. He walked around his trailer in nothing but boxers and a cigarette between his lips. Now, he almost has an aneurysm when he takes off his hoodie and his shirt rides up.
He didn’t want to have sex either. It took you a lot of convincing and advances before he agreed to do anything sexual. You began with a dark room - pitch dark -, but even in the dark, with absolutely no lights, blinds and door closed, you could feel Eddie being hesitant and not letting go fully. 
So you came up with an idea: using his bandana as a blindfold. With your eyes covered, he felt more confident. 
‘’You won’t take it off, right?’’ he asked, folding the piece of cloth over and over until it was slim enough to cover your eyes. ‘’Promise me you won’t.’’
You took his face in your hands, tilting it so his eyes connected with yours. ‘’I promise.’’ 
As much as it hurt your heart that he saw his scars as something to be ashamed of, you would never betray his trust like that. 
That night, for the first time in months, he made you his without holding back, without constantly thinking if you could see the scars or not. He took his time kissing everywhere on your body, worshiping it from head to toe after depriving himself of it for so long. His thrusts were deep and the moans that came out of his mouth were guttural. 
It didn’t last long, both of you touch starved from the other. The blindfold over your eyes heightened your senses, making the orgasm more powerful. 
After catching his breath, Eddie put his clothes back on - pants and long sleeves - and allowed you to take off your blindfold. 
Eddie fell asleep first, completely worn out from his orgasm. You carded through his hair as he slept, the moonlight peaked gently into his room through the small gap between the curtains, hitting the bite scar right above his eyebrow. 
You brushed your thumb over it, something he would never let you do awake. While he was making love to you, you could feel every scar under your fingertips and the palms of your hands, but you didn’t say a thing. 
*
A few weeks later, you saw them for the first time. 
It was a total accident. 
Eddie had a Hellfire club meeting in a few hours so he had gone showering, leaving you alone in his room. It was pretty much your room too now by how much time you were spending there and how many of your clothes and personal stuff littered every surfaces. 
Eddie finished washing himself, turned off the water and grabbed his towel when he realized he had forgotten his clothes on his bed. He checked the dryer, in case there was clothes left in there that hadn't been taken away, but it was empty.
‘’Fuck.’’ 
If he had been alone at the trailer, he would've gone to his room to get them, but you were there so it was out of the question. 
He ran a hand through his wet hair, seeing no other solution than to call for you. Towel around his waist, Eddie opened the door slightly, just enough that his voice would get to you. 
‘’Sweetheart? I forgot my clothes on the bed, could you bring them to me?’’
No response. 
‘’Y/N?’’ he called again. 
Back in Eddie's room, you were comfortably situated in bed, pantsless and listening to music on Eddie’s walkman, the volume too loud to hear him calling for you. Your head bobbed as you mouthed the words, imagining yourself at one of the band’s concerts. 
Assuming you had fallen asleep, Eddie didn't want to get stuck in the bathroom for an hour. Tucking properly the towel around his waist, he slid the bathroom door open and headed to his room, leaving wet footprints and water drops - from his towel-dried hair - in the hallway. 
Only, you weren’t asleep so when you saw a shadow in the doorway, you got a little spooked. You quickly realized it was Eddie, calming down and chuckling to yourself.
‘’Jesus fucking Christ, never scare me like that aga-’’ Your words got caught in your throat, seeing the man before you in only a towel. No clothes. 
Eddie froze, his expression mimicking a deer in the headlights when he saw that you were awake and that you could see everything. You went after him as he ran back to the bathroom, tearing the headphones off your head. 
‘’I didn’t mean it like that. Eddie, come back!’’ 
The bathroom door got shut in your face and you heard the lock click. 
‘’Shit.’’ 
A minute passed before you heard Eddie’s voice through the door. ‘’Y/N? Are you still there?’’
‘’Yeah.’’ 
‘’I forgot my clothes again… Could you get them for me? Please.’’
‘’Sure.’’ You went to the bedroom and grabbed the pile of clothes on the bed, taking them to Eddie. The door slid open and he poked his head out along with one hand to grab the clothes. ‘’Eddie-’’ 
‘’Can we not talk about it? I just- I just want to get dressed and go to Hellfire meeting.’’ 
You nodded. ‘’Okay.’’ You forced a small smile. ‘’I love you.’’
*
A month passed, and another. 
Eddie was sitting on the end of his bed, waiting for you to switch your work clothes for your normal clothes when he said the words he never thought he’d be ready for. 
‘’I think I’m ready.’’ 
‘’Ready for what? Getting pizza? You better be ready because I’m starving,’’ you said with your shirt half-way over your head, dreaming about the cheesy delight you wear going to taste in twenty minutes.
When you pulled it down fully, you saw that Eddie was looking up at you, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip while he pulled at the sleeves of his shirt nervously. That’s when it dawned on you that he might not be talking about the pizza. 
‘’My scars.’’ 
Your face switched, giving the man before you all of your attention. ‘’Are you sure?’’
He nodded. ‘’I think it’s time. I mean, I can’t keep hiding from you, can I? It’s getting ridiculous.’’ A short laugh left Eddie’s mouth, shaking his head. 
‘’Maybe, but I’ll always respect your boundaries.’’
‘’I know.’’ He turned his head to you and the corner of his lips twitched. ‘’I know.’’ He got up to close the blinds, but kept the light on, standing right before you.
Slowly, Eddie peeled the bottom of his shirt, revealing pale skin and reddish-pink marks of bites and tiny claws. 
You held your breath, trying not to cry. 
He peeled more of the fabric until he had to raise his arms and slip it off his arms and over his head, giving you a full look at his naked chest for the first time. His stomach, chests, arms and neck were covered in scars, making you realize how bad it actually was. Eddie’s tattoos were still there. Some of them were hatched by the scars, others completely intact. 
Eddie released a shuddered breath, feeling your eyes on him, scrutting him. He felt like a circus animal. A freak].  
‘’There’s some on my legs too. Do you want to see?’’
‘’Only if you feel comfortable.’’
He didn’t say anything. He just reached for his belt, revealing more bites and claw marks, more scars.
Standing on your toes, you grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Eddie melted under your lips, under your touch, releasing the heaviness on his shoulders.
‘’I didn’t want you to see me because I thought you would love me less, but I should've known that it's not who you are.’’
‘’Eddie… The you who you are now is the same you I was in love with six months ago, the same you I'll be in love with tomorrow. I love you for you, not what your body looks like.’’ A chuckle left your lips. ‘’It’s a nice bonus, but I’ll never see it as ugly. You’ll always be beautiful to my eyes.’’ 
He closed his eyes and you saw a tear fall. 
You wiped it with your thumb. ‘’It’s okay to break sometimes, and to be insecure.’’ 
‘’The first time I accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the hospital bathroom mirror, I felt sick to my stomach at the sight. The bite marks triggered an intense panic attack. That’s why my shower took so long,’’ he confessed, months later.
You pulled your eyebrows, your memories not matching his. ’’You told me a stitches had ripped and they had to stitch is back.’’
‘’I lied. I…I didn't want to tell you how much they affected me. I didn’t want you to see me as weak-’’
‘’You’re not weak. You’re a lot of things, but weak is not one of them. You’re the bravest person I know. You're a survivor, a warrior, Eddie Munson. You’re a hero, my hero.’’
-
Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x  
Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @evanstanwhore  
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gtgbabie0 · 1 year
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thank you! in that case may i request a comfort fic where leon sees the readers old s.h scars for the first time? maybe they’re on the couch or in bed together and he sees them and comforts the reader? i know you said it was okay but if at any point you don’t feel comfortable writing it please don’t force yourself to :)
-Leon Kennedy x reader
Hope this is okay my love! Take care of yourself &lt;3
cw for old sh scars
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“What you thinking bout pretty?” Leon whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before joining you on the sofa, lazily wrapping his arm around you and bringing you to his side.
You’re miles away looking down at your hands, your eyes studying the small lines, how some connect and some lead to nothing, “Mm not much, just how stupidly handsome you are” you smile as Leon rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, real smooth baby,” he says, noticing the way your eyes crinkle with joy as you let out small giggles.
The house is quiet apart from the slight potter patter of the rain against the windows, and the commentary of the ocean documentary that’s playing on the tv.
Leon beings to draw patterns against your hip as you lean into his side and without thinking you brought your legs up onto the sofa, knees against Leon’s thigh, and your heart practically sinks when the fabric of your shorts rise to the tops of your thighs, revealing the scarred skin.
And Leon studies the lines that are scattered against your skin, how they’re all different shapes, and his heart breaks at the sight.
You quickly plant your feet back onto the wooden floor grasping at the fabric as you pull it down, and you’re praying that Leon hasn’t seen them but the look on Leon’s face tells a different story.
His brows are pulled together with worry, his mouth slightly agape as if he couldn’t believe the sight, and your mouth goes dry and all the words want to say wedge in the back of your throat.
“Leon— it” you wince at how shaky your voice is and you’re shocked when he grasps at your hand with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, they’re old— I was in a bad place and I- I’m” you trail off struggling to find the words and panic seeps into your heart as you try your best to explain yourself before Leon can conjure up any negative conclusions.
And you’re surprised when his hand cups your cheek making you look up at him, his face is soft and loving yet there’s still a thread of worry that’s woven through his face.
“It’s alright- it's alright, baby, you don’t have to explain anything to me, not if you’re not ready to talk about it yet, okay?” He says with a loving smile, and nod whispering a small ‘okay’.
And you’re shocked, you’re so used to others' judgment, having to hide them with shame but with Leon it’s different.
“You don’t have to cover them around me- it's just I don't want you to feel like you have to hide them for my sake” he presses a kiss against your hairline, you’re swimming in his love and you sigh as tears well up in your eyes while you bury your head in the crook of his neck.
He can feel a small damp patch against his shirt as you cry and he rubs the expanse of your back, letting you cry against him, “Thank you, Leon— so much” you whisper your voice wobbles.
“Baby you don’t have to thank me,” he says, and you almost can’t believe how caring he is, how patient he’s being, “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it I’m here, always.” You pull away from him looking at his soft eyes as he wipes away your tears.
“Okay— I love you Leon” you whisper and he kisses your forehead bringing you back into him.
“I love you to baby, so much” he replies and a comfortable silence blankets you both as you zone back into the ocean documentary that’s still playing on the tv.
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muscatos · 1 year
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The symbolism of numbers in All For The Game
Although numbers generally play a large role in the progression of AFTG, such as the importance of dates or Neil's countdown to his kidnapping in Baltimore, there are a few standout instances, rich with symbolism, that tend to go unnoticed.
4: The number four is deemed unlucky in japan, so much so that it’s often skipped when creating hospital rooms due to the intense negative stigma, this is because the number quite literally translates to death; a fact that definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by Riko. The idea that Neil was quite literally branded with death and his life only officially beginning as Neil Josten once the 4 was removed after Baltimore therefore signifying his freedom. This number being removed by the thing supposed to kill him no-less is a twisted form of irony, leaving scarring to forever remind him of this near-death experience and the final run-in with his father, A man being the literal personification of Death in Neil’s eyes.
13: thirteen is presented as Andrew lucky number, with Betsy being Andrew 13th therapist, finally leaving the Spear household at 13 as well as moving in with Aaron being his 13th and final household. Andrew and Neil’s jersey numbers add up to 13 also, suggesting the idea of the two are inherently parallels of one another, destined to meet. This plays on 13 inherently being an unlucky number, creating a contrast to defy expectations; as per the norm with Andrews character of whom revolves around defying boundaries and breaking stereotypes.
3: Andrew's jersey number, three, is deemed as lucky in Japanese culture along with 4, representing culture, time (past, present, future) and the three elements of the mind, body, and spirit being connected. This idea accurately represents both Andrew and Jean through the number; both of which seeming to be the most effected by lost time and have the most growth by the last books in this respect, with Andrew and Jean having more security in their futures and a willingness to discuss it, (a particular struggle to both as their futures were deemed uncertain, with Jean committing suicide in all drafts of the books but the final one, and Andrew refusing to discuss the future or 'live' for himself.) along with finally having a connection between their mind and body, both of whom have historically been known to have their bodies not belong to themselves, manipulated and forced to stay in such a situation for the benefit of others (jean in the nest, Andrew in the spears,) the escape of this toxic cycle, both the mental scars in Andrew case and physical ones in Jeans, represent the lucky nature of the number and their future.
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alpaca-clouds · 3 months
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Let me use Astarion as an excuse to talk about CPTSD
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You know what? I think this might be a good moment to talk about CPTSD and how Astarion really is a textbook example of someone with CPTSD (though it is very likely that basically our entire main cast of characters in BG3 is suffering from it to some degree, they just are less textbook in their presentation).
Let me start with a simple question: What is CPTSD?
CPTSD is the shortened version of Complex PTSD, or rather Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So, to dumb it down: It is like CPTSD, but it sucks a lot more.
While normally PTSD is caused by one traumatic event (like having a car accident, seeing a loved one die, being subjected to random violence at some point), while CPTSD is caused by a traumatic situation that goes on for a while or repeats several times. In the western world, we see a lot of CPTSD in survivors of parental abuse or intimate partner abuse. Aka, traumatic situations that went on for a longer while. You will also find CPTSD in some people from marginalized groups, as the traumatic situation of discrimination is constantly repeating. And of course you will find it in survivors of war or similar ongoing events.
PTSD will often lead to having triggers related to the trauma, showing avoidance behavior towards possibly triggering situations. It might also lead to flashbacks, nightmares, and a raised awareness/carefulness, often especially regarding relations with other people (though this might depend on the traumatic event it stems from).
CPTSD will have all of that, but often in more complex ways (as a longer experience will allow for complex triggers to develop - and a lot more situa´tions to become triggers as well), but it will also lead to a difficulty to regulate emotions, a general mistrust towards other people, inability to have healthy relationships, prolonged moments of dissociations, a generally negative perception of the world and events, feelings of worthlessness and internalized shame.
It should also be noted that in many cases the symptoms of CPTSD only start showing, once the traumatized person is removed from the traumatizing situation.
Neurally the reason for CPTSD is basically, that the nervous system is put into a prolonged survival mode. Which is also why the symptoms often trigger after the survivor is removed trauma inducing situation.
And, oh look, it is Astarion lol
Looking at the character from this perspetive, you really see pretty much all the symptoms in him.
Does he struggle with regulating his emotions? Fuck yeah, he does. He tries to regulate them, but he very often fails at it.
Does he get triggered by some situations? Yeah, it does. (You get that especially when you play his origin.)
He is super mistrustful towards other people - which is also why he does not intermingle with other people that much.
His view of most things as negative is also fairly clear - I also would argue that his "let's kill some puppies and kittens" behavior is also very closely connected to this.
And that he struggles with feelings of worthlessness and shame is again something that is found in the text.
He really is a very textbook example of CPTSD, which also brings me back to what I already talked about this week: Both CPTSD and PTSD will permanently change the nervous system. Which as far as we know will never quite go away. (Like, not to be a nerd, but there has been some recent research, that has shown that certain medication might permanently eleviate some symptoms - but not heal it totally.) It is basically scars from a nervous injury, if you wanna think of it like that.
You can however learn to live with the symptoms and learn techniques to regulate them. If you have read any of my Tavstarion stories (like this one), I bring some of those techniques into that. Stuff like breathing techniques or techniques to get your brain out of a flashback spiral (like consciously perceiving your surroundings). But to learn to deal with it, you also need to confront the trauma, which is probably the hardest thing to get Astarion to do, because he seems to be very avoidant. Like, his entire "I need to ascend" thingie is all avoidant behavior. Basically, he wants all that power that comes with ascending to prevent him from ever ending up in a situation that would be in any way similar to his trauma again.
But even if he does not ascend, there is a good chance he will still show a lot of avoidant behavior in the future.
When I write him, there is a reason that I do not have him leave home for a good seven months outside of what he has to do (like feeding). Which is very typical avoidant behavior.
The thing is that often trauma and especially CPTSD is not always the very big reactions - though those might be there too - but a lot of those more muted things. Avoiding going outside. Avoiding new situations. Being just a bit anxious. Feeling that nice things are done with bad intentions. Things like that.
Just, you know... A heads up.
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dadmareau · 11 months
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Tentative designs for Nightmare throughout the storyline. Additional tentatively colored Dream because he is integral to NM’s final design. 05/29/2023
Some changes are still to be made and finalized, but Arc 1 and Arc 2’s NM designs are pretty much finalized here.
A3 & A4 require a lot more changes, A3 the most.
Thanks to my partner in crime, @boxofwaspss for his constant help and feedback.
Changes to occur + design notes:
0-1-2-4 in sequence of tentacles and becoming whole again. 0-1-2-3 to signify something is lost but something is gained.
Arc 1 NM’s scar is a hole that you can see through.
A3 NM needs darker boots (or different shoes.) Pants should be a consistent color with the last season, or a warmer tone to evoke autumn more.
Additionally may change the star pattern. It’s cool, but unnecessary. Evokes idea of hope/determination, which is a central theme but not quite in this style… plus, the yellow already does that.
Scarf likely swapped for cravat because he’s That Bitch; and in that case, a proper shirt or blouse. This should make the visual transition to A4’s ensemble easier.
A4 NM needs more colors/brighter tones to signify the growth of his character. Since he is the ‘final look’, there should be a much more visible difference between him and spring. (Although my heart says black looks very good on him.)
A4 may get the bright color inside and dark color outside treatment on his coat.
A4 Dream also may receive diff colors on capulet. Making it yellow outside and teal inside would be interesting.
Design notes:
NM does get taller as the seasons pass; I reason as both the heels of his shoes LMAO and the growing power/negativity he amasses.
The outfits really don’t matter that much because I will play dress up with them anyway. But for the sake of references.
He always tucks his pants into his boots.
Refuses shorts. (“I look like a child.”)
Driven to make his own clothing after having to steal/alter other people’s clothing. Hates wearing other people’s clothes.
Bandanna/scarf and patch fabric (all yellow material) is scrap fabric cut from the Unfinished Tapestry (Dream’s cape.) Symbolic of healing/love.
Smiles more each development because he’s happier and more at peace. And because he’s a smarmy prick.
Has to wear a belt because his feminine hips are too slim for the pants he borrows.
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wyllaztopia · 1 month
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My question is: let's imagine that Nightmare had a childhood friend, his one and only childhood friend, and that she was a little girl who liked to fight to protect him and who literally had scars because of that because she literally fought every day to defend him, let's imagine that she survived the "incident", After the corruption of Nightmare how would he be with her? Would he be distant because he doesn't want to remember his past and the fact that he needed someone to defend himself, would he be tsundere with her or would he have a soft spot? Because I mean, his brother did not protect Nightmare because he was not aware of the others who harassed him, but she was the only one who had protected him, in part in any case. sooo.. would he be able to hurt her as much as he would be able to hurt Dream? After all, it's not as if she had protected Nightmare from absolutely everything, because as you said, it's not the only reason why Nightmare became corrupt and there were many others who added up.
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ (i love that enoji-)
I really love your version of Dreamtale! Joku doesn't give any more news so I have trouble orienting myself with Dreamtale’s story, but you show a whole new vision of things with Soulsborne! The philosophy you gave to Nightmare is much more complex than that of the original but I really hope that Joku will develop Dreamtale in the future! And we're counting on you for Soulsborne and his development 🫵🏼
thank you for such kind words omg this version of dreamtale literally came to mind when me and @neotxnic were reading the original dreamtale comic after we had a session of elden ring - it was also around the time i was delving deep into the dark souls trilogy lore. i wanted to add more depth and tone to the world of dreamtale and fromsoft games have really good story telling and lore so i wanted that to reflect on our revision of the story. note that i'm not trying to compete with joku and the original dreamtale. i think the original is good as is and very fun + heartfelt to read. on anotherrrr note - this will be a really long response to the initial question so buckle up because i will lore dump.
For this specific scenario, I won't make this character's insertion into the lore canon yet - I actually want you lot to share your opinions on the addition of Nightmare having a childhood friend.
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Nightmare and Dream were both born from the roots of Motus Arbor (the Tree of Feelings, the very being of Nim or what's left of her). The two of them are task to guard the tree - Dream guarding the negative apples and Nightmare guarding the positive ones.
Dream sought out to the people, he believes that through guarding the tree, he also has to guard the feelings of others. Thus, he often travels around the kingdom where he does his best to help his people have a brighter day.
Meanwhile, Nightmare keeps to himself and guards the tree while Dream focuses on their people to keep their emotions stable. He usually sits by the bed of motus arbor and reads books under its huge shade.
Because of Nightmare guarding the positive apples and the stereotype people have formed of him being the guardian of negativity (despite Dream's attempts to let people know that Nightmare isn't a bad person), many other kids would go behind Dream's back to harass Nightmare and accuse him of taking advantage of the positive apples.
This happens often but Nightmare never paid mind to these claims or mistreatment. Because of his pessimism being influenced by the positive apples that he guards, he's more of a realist (pessimism-leaning) - and so he doesn't see much value in the bullying.
However, a young girl around his age would stand up against the bullies, speaking up about their prejudice and unfair treatment. She called them out about how their judgement held no merit because they didn't know Nightmare personally, what right did they have to come to such conclusions about a person?
As the kids went away, Nightmare told her that there was no need for her to stand up for him since he wasn't affected by the mistreatment. He was perfectly fine simply ignoring the flock. She shook her head at his statement,
She told him her belief that passiveness won't progress society to a better environment. If we simply ignore the bad, does that make us good? Does that stop the evil? Does that stop the dishonesty? How will a wrong become a right if nothing is done for it to be so?
This philosophy was quickly dismissed by Nightmare; "Fighting fire with fire never bears any good fruit."
Despite their opposing ideals, this girl would pursue a friendship with the dark prince. She was true to herself despite how different their worldviews are but somehow, some of their morals were seen to overlap - such as their respect for intellect and honesty. The two both found enjoyment in books and being less social. It was a blissful friendship where they didn't feel the need to be someone else and the other was perfectly fine with it.
However, the conflict between Dream and Nightmare happened. Nightmare saw that Dream was being mistreated by the other kids, that they were abusing his kindness - and he hid his feelings from his very own brother, Nightmare. The guardian of negativity slowly realized that Dream's ignorance and selflessness - whilst spreading happiness… it was happiness given the wrong way. It was a clear imbalance.
And for the first time, he'd heed his friend's words: something had to be done. - and as for how nightmare would treat this friend of his in the present time? well, he holds no attachments. he had already stripped himself for any positive feelings towards anyone - including the very friend that pioneered his current ideals. however, deep down, he respects her integrity - a thought lingers within him that she'd understand his plans if one day she were to find out. however, if he finds reason to, he'll kill her with his own hands.
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saintsenara · 7 days
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thank you very much for the ask, anon! it turned out that questions 1 and 2 sent me a bit feral, so they're queued up in a separate post... allowing this one to focus on the unhinged and deranged potential of ronius.
which - i'll be honest - is not quite as unhinged and deranged as one might think...
although my answer about it as a pure crackship would be influenced by a headcanon i remain committed to purely for my own amusement that harry is the only person who believes sirius to be unfathomably good-looking pre-azkaban [the girl in the defence against the dark arts exam was actually checking out lily! harry saw what he wanted to see!] and still retaining vestiges of these magnificent looks after it.
i like the idea of ron - canonically a real hottie himself - not being entirely sure what all the fuss is about, not least because sirius hasn't seen a dentist in fifteen years. harry's sighing every night about how lucky ron is while everyone else pats sirius on the back for bagging himself a tall and sporty legend with great hair, a chill personality, and a fourteen-inch wand.
but my more serious response to this ship would be that it joins the pile - with snon and ronmort - which are made plausible by the fact that ron is, at heart, someone who cares.
in goblet of fire, harry, ron, and hermione all have broadly similar views of sirius - that he's a clever, sensible adult who can be trusted to help them with the mystery they find themselves in. ron is reassured that harry tells sirius about his scar hurting, for example, because he thinks it's a given that sirius will know what to do about it - and he believes that any information sirius gives harry throughout this book is completely above reproach.
ron also clearly thinks that sirius is cool - him trying to get sirius to agree with him that hermione's passion for house elf rights is ridiculous very much has the vibe of him wanting sirius to acknowledge him as a sophisticated man-of-the-world; which him being pissed-off when sirius suggests the trio are too young to understand what things were like in the first war also illustrates.
[which i think sirius respects him for - he obviously admires a bit of bolshiness, and he also obviously adores the loyalty ron and hermione have for harry.]
and so i think that you can absolutely imagine ron developing a little crush on sirius - to go with his broader bisexual awakening over viktor krum - during his fourth year.
more interestingly, though, is that the trio's view of sirius diverges in order of the phoenix.
in harry's case, there is a reversal of the reasonably uncomplicated parent-child dynamic of goblet of fire, as sirius' depression - as well as the regression he feels from being stuck in his childhood home - robs him of the capacity to provide harry with the paternal emotional support he needs. instead, harry ends up being the one taking the adult role in their relationship - viewing it as his responsibility to be the sensible one in order to keep sirius safe.
hermione notices this role-reversal, but her view is broadly that sirius would be able to restrain his emotional instability if he simply tried hard enough. she's the one of the three who thinks that sirius' grimmauld-place-induced regression is accompanied by a desire to relive his glory days with harry standing in for james - and while both she and harry find sirius' more reckless behaviour [such as his suggestion that he might come to hogsmeade to see them] frightening, hermione evidently regards it as reckless arrogance, while harry sees it as reckless desperation.
ron - on the other hand - approaches order-era sirius not from the adult position in an adult-child dynamic, but as a peer.
he's the member of the trio who best understands the impact feeling useless to the war effort, lonely, and trapped has on sirius, without adding the qualification that he should be an adult and deal with it [which has the negative result that he's easily convinced that harry's vision of sirius in the department of mysteries is real, because he thinks it's completely plausible that sirius would have left the house and been captured].
he has no time for the idea that sirius views harry as indistinguishable from james, or that sirius is deliberately or childishly reckless. he's the only one of the three to give sirius the credit of listening to dumbledore and working to keep himself and harry safe - even if he doesn't like what he has to endure in order to do this. he treats sirius as someone who deserves to not be condescended to and to be acknowledged as having authority in his own house - for example, when he tells hermione that she needs to respect sirius' justification for why kreacher can't be manumitted when he thinks she intends to give him clothes for christmas [that hermione is completely right that slaves should be freed is by-the-by here].
he also understands harry's grief over sirius' death - and what sirius meant to harry - far more instinctively than hermione. but he's also the only one of the trio who really gets how sirius was understood by the order more widely - for example, he's the only one of the three who correctly points out that tonks didn't actually know sirius well enough for the intensity of grief harry and hermione are ascribing to her to be plausible. while harry - completely understandably - sees sirius as so important in his own life that he can't help but imagine him as the central figure in the life of everyone he encounters [which is unrelatedly interesting in that it's how each of the three marauders saw james], ron has a more pragmatic, big-picture view of him as a man. a good man - absolutely - and a fun and clever and admirable one, but still a man like any other.
ron understanding sirius - but not idolising him - creates a pretty strong potential for a relationship between them in a world in which sirius survives into the trio's adulthoods. this is especially the case when this understanding is combined with the fact that ron is shown - throughout the series - to be very good at providing comfort.
sirius survives azkaban and his time on the run through sheer, desperate resilience - but, as his collapse when he's back at grimmauld place shows, this resilience can't keep his demons at bay when he's not just fighting, at the most basic level, to stay alive.
if he survives the war, then he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is going to find himself feeling terrified and unmoored and completely unsure about who he is and what he'll do in a world in which voldemort is dead - and i suspect that his self-destruction would be extraordinary.
ron - alone of the trio - has the capacity to understand how sirius would end up in a place where "all was well" is more frightening to him than the potential of dying any minute. and he also has the capacity to provide an anchoring force through cups of tea and chit-chat which makes sirius think it might be possible to survive the day... and then the week... and then the month - which can then transition into him having the capacity to understand the big questions of guilt and grief and love and loyalty which define sirius' adult life.
so yes. i back it entirely.
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Finally got the go-ahead to post about this… so, with the growing visibility of hybrids in the public eye, I was offered the opportunity to interview with RIME Magazine! (Capitalizing the name properly was part of the deal.)
I’ll be pasting the text of the article below for anyone without a subscription (to be fair, it’s also posted online, and I have permission), but before that… I also got a cover photoshoot! I wound up touching up my ears with my illusions… and some of the burn scars… but I’m quite happy with how it turned out, still. Wolfy couldn’t make it, so I took the photo with Chiru that day! Anyways, hope you enjoy. :)
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(//Art is a commission by @/RhymeWithRay here or mostly on Twitter! They make amazing Pokémon-style work, worth a look for sure!!!)
But without further ado, the interview!
RIME Magazine sat down for an interview with Vanilla Cress, a Hisuian Zorua hybrid, human and Pokémon psychologist, Champion-class trainer in Paldea, Galar Champion Cup semifinalist, and hybrid model and activist, in early February. Topics discussed varied widely, from Cress's own experience growing up as a human-Pokémon hybrid, understanding Pokémon, Cress's recent modeling and activism, and future plans. What follows is a condensed and edited transcript of the interview.
That's quite the list of accolades you've accumulated along the way. What do you think has led you to achieve so highly?
Well, for one, I think you're giving a lot of this more credit than it's worth, [laughs]. I'm not sure being pulled off of the street because I look like a walking ice-cream cone is much of an accomplishment, personally. Nor do I do much activism apart from this interview now, apparently.
I think I understand the answer you're going for here, though. I would say that my hybridity's a large part of what brought me as far as I've come. Not only in having the gift to talk to our partners in life--which is an incredible gift--but in that there's this drive to prove myself. Or maybe to redeem myself. I'm not really sure which, personally. Doing things has just filled all of the gaps in my life, until now.
Right, and you only publicly "came out" as a hybrid less than a year ago.
Yes, less than a year ago! It's been a huge adjustment, but I have so much more energy these days, not having to worry about being discovered by hitting something with my tail, [laughs].
While my experience hasn't been entirely positive after "coming out" myself, and I realize that even being able to hide is a privilege many hybrids simply don't have, I will say that generally speaking, the public response has been overwhelmingly positive. Say, for every enemy I've made, I've made ten more friends in their place. And from so many different walks of life, too!
You say your experience wasn't entirely positive. Could you elaborate some on your negative experiences as a hybrid?
Well, if I have to. Which I suppose I don't, but it seems rude not to. There are, of course, people out there who view you as subhuman, when you look like me. Or in maybe a less extreme sense, people who have a tendency to see all of the fluff and decide "Oh, this person--I should talk to this person like they're a child." But those are really quite few and far between, at least in my case. I'm more likely to scare people, with the teeth and the claws. [They make a pose showing both off.]
My main negative experience, though, was something more personal and targeted.
Yes, there was the news earlier last year about the Dreamyard Laboratory...
"Earlier last year" doesn't feel right, somehow. I won't go much into detail, but yes, I was taken against my will for the purpose of illegal research on human-Pokémon hybrid power, by Colress Achroma. It was only due to the efforts of my dear friends that I'm here now. I cannot express my gratitude to them enough, if any of you are reading!
Thank you for sharing. To turn back the clock a bit, what was your childhood like, being half-Zorua?
Well, for most of that time, it was like paradise! When I was a young child, we were quite isolated, so I never got the sense that my life was "off" or "strange". I thought for the longest time it was normal to have a family like mine. My older sibling, Wolfgang, a Zorua then--we were just "W" and "V" at the time--he and I would just run wild and play in Lostlorn Forest for hours while the rest of the pack hunted. And then they'd come back, and they'd start in on whatever they'd caught, and my mother would swoop back in to make me something completely different. And teach me the alphabet. [Laughs]
Was there a time, when that facade cracked?
Oh, there was this time, right when I had gotten used to using my illusions, that my mother brought me to the grocery store with her. And that's when I learned a lot of facts about the world very quickly. And then I had to learn those facts all over again, a few years later, when I rejoined the human world with my adopted family. Everything had to be hidden after that, or else. It was dangerous, not knowing what sort of person you'd meet, or who'd want to hurt you just for existing.
You say you were also adopted?
Right. There was... a forest fire, at one point. Intentional. And I lost everyone dear to me but Wolfgang. And I became the sort of Zorua you see here now [a Hisuian Zorua]. And after a few years of... homelessness and what not, I was taken in by the Cresses. It was a chance encounter. And it was a major culture shock! Going from streets to high society parties. It was thanks to them, though, that I managed to find something to do with my life and graduated from Naranja-Uva.
And in between that, the Galar gym challenge...
[Laughs] I'm sure you have a clip of that somewhere. I'd rather not talk about it, that was... a strange period of teenagerhood for me.
How do you feel about your childhood, on reflection?
That's tough. That's something I believe I'm still working out, myself. It was positive moment-to-moment, but considering what I know, now, I would say... to some degree, I resent it. It's hard not to resent being born in a position where it feels like, for so long, nobody understands you. I wouldn't trade Wolfgang for anyone else, but otherwise, I do wish, sometimes, I was "just" a human.
I can imagine. At the same time, talking to Pokémon is quite the advantage, right? What is it like?
Depends on the Pokémon! Some of us are more talkative than others, and of course, there's a range in how sophisticated Pokémon communication is too.
The difference is something like... imagine two Pokémon asking for pizza. In my experience, a Solosis would usually just beam the word "PIZZA" right into your mind. A Sewaddle might be coherent enough to say "Pizza, please". And a Zoroark... probably something along the lines of "give me the damn pizza already," [laughs].
So sometimes you can get a lot across by understanding Pokémon, but that doesn't mean they're all speaking in the same way as humans still. Understanding those individual differences goes a long way in my line of work, too. It's a bit easier than reading behavior, anyways!
As a Pokémon psychologist, what's one thing you think more people should understand about their Pokémon?
More than anything... it sounds cliche, but most Pokémon truly view humans as their partners, just as we do them. As much scientific proof as has gone into the question of proving that Pokémon love us as much as we love them, in my experience... that's absolutely true.
At the same time, even as partners, Pokémon think quite differently from humans in their daily life. I think in order to create the most balanced world possible, where both can coexist, it's key to consider the Pokémon's perspective more too.
What's one thing you'd like to impart about hybrids to people who don't know much about them?
Every hybrid's experience is different, firstly! Some, like me, are born, but others are created through science or magic we still don't know about. Some may look almost identical to humans, and some may have appearances considered frightening or unusual. Some of us have long-standing health problems. Some of us can use moves, or speak in Pokémon language, or access abilities, whereas others may be more limited. There's no one experience that I can really label as "the hybrid experience".
There are people who might think we're dangerous. Or inhuman. But whether you consider us 'human' or not... like any living being, we still deserve respect and a voice. Maybe that's obvious, but I think it still rings true.
Finally, what are your plans from here?
I'm hoping to finish my Unova League challenge together with my traveling partner! I certainly don't intend to become the Champion, but if I can say I challenged every member of the Elite 4, I'd be happy.
From there... well, there are a few things I'd like to resolve otherwise, but I think I'll return to my day job as a therapist, and hopefully, my own personal sword training. I'd also like to spend more time with my friends, my traveling partner, and my family in Lostlorn! My brother, Wolfgang has four incredible kits, and they're the absolute most adorable--
I'm afraid we're out of time for today, Mx. Vanilla.
Ah, yes. Thank you for having me!
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therealmilfdennys · 2 years
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SFW and NSFW headcanons for the ST boys I write for lol
I want! To do one of these for everyone I write for but this is fresh on my mind so it's first lol. Eddie, Billy, and Steve are included. I wanted to post this before some of my asks so you know what you're getting lol. Anyway! CW: Feminization, trauma mention, nightmares, scars, and season 3 spoilers, cockwarming, crying, panty stealing, exhibitionism sort of, billy's mommy issues, more crying, let men bottom. Written with top!reader in mind, mostly gender-neutral but AFAB based (I write what I know) if there's more Please let me know.
Steve Harrington SFW 
He hates being alone in that big house, so hes either holding you hostage or he’s always at yours. 
Says he HATES spending time with the kids but is the first to defend them in any situation, even if You have something negative to say about them.
I think the whole ‘six nuggets’ speech was WAY out of character but like, I think Steve deserves ONE baby as a treat. Or maybe he’s the honorary uncle to one of Nancy’s kids lol. He’d be a sick ass uncle.
He Does in fact love PDA, he’s a touchy feely guy (post season one, at least Genuinely) 
His love language is physical touch(receiving) and gift giving(giving). HIs parents were always trying to ‘make up’ for not being there with gifts (the BMW was from the Florence trip, two whole months by himself with little to no contact.)
He really likes movie dates, be it renting a tape and staying at his or yours OR going out and catching one at the theater. He got weirdly into film after working at Family Video.
His favorite candy is anything banana flavored (laffy taffy is the top spot).
He likes pepsi over coke and Is pretentious about it. 
I ama  firm believer that he has a full skin/hair/night/morning routine that he is ADAMANT about. HE has a toiletry bag bigger than his overnight bag that he carries his “essentials” in if he stays over at yours/Eddie’s. 
Speaking of Eddie they got weirdly close after the whole Vecna thing so if you’re dating Steve congrats you have a a new bestie :) Eddie will offer you joints you do Not have to accept. 
Steve is a fan of thicker people I’m sorry I dont make the rules. They all are but Speficially Steve and Billy lol. 
He gets really bad nightmares about the demogorgons sometimes, sleeps with the bat next to him most nights. “Just in case, babe. Can’t be too careful.”  
Was a bug kid, and WAS friends with Eddie in elementary school I will die on this hill. They used to make bug palaces on the playground someone please ask e about this for the love of fuc-
HIs favorite book is The Outsiders :) He doesn’t and didn’t read a lot but that is one of the few books that can grab his attention and keep it. Got very excited when the movie came out and it is one of his favorites :)
First guy crush was Rob Lowe he “Just thought he was badass.” uhhh okay Stevie we get it.
Boyfriend Material to a fucking T. You need someone to help grocery shop? He’s there. Help move furniture? He’s there? Sad? He’s there and he’s making stupid jokes and calling you pretty and kissing your eyelids. 
He lets you wear his clothes and encourages it. Will have a fashion show with your clothes to make you feel better about it if you’re insecure. 
NSFW
Firmly believe there isn’t a mean bone in this mans body. He couldn’t bully you into submission if he wanted to he’d feel too bad.
He’s a simp to the bone. All you have to do is put on the puppy eyes and the “Please Stevie?” And he melts.
I’d call him the pussy eating king but Eddie Munson holds that title so Steve is the Pussy Eating Prince? 
I don’t think he’s a dom by any means, but I DO think he’d be a service top. 
“Baby cum for me please? Wanna feel it. Need to see you cum, look so pretty when you do.” and “So fuckin’ tight, so wet and pretty and perfect. Doin’ so good for me.”
Praise!! Kink!!! Both giving and receiving! Pull on his hair and call him a good boy and he’ll whimper so pretty. 
Big Dick. I don’t remember where I read the headcanon that Steve has a huge dick but i fuckin ran with it so now he does :). Its pretty too. 
He likes slow and sleepy sex over anything else. The sex where you guys are like, trying to fuck but end up just cuddling and kinda grinding against eachother? *chef’s kiss*
Big fan of cockwarming :) sometimes he’s just so needy and you’re busy with work stuff, or college stuff or you’re just reading and he’s all 
“Can I please just put it in? Don’t even have to move, jus’ wanna be close baby.” 
He’s shit at dirty talk but he tries okay?
“Steve we talked about the shitty porn dialouge baby.” “Yeah, yeah sorry.” 
BIg fan of giggling during sex? He just thinks you’re so pretty and he gets these big goofy smiles that are all teeth and yeah. 
When he cums he’s loud as fuck. He’s vocal in general but he gets LOUD when he’s close. He whines and whimpers and huffs out these little moans. HIs tummy gets all tense and his hips jerk and he’s trying so hard not to cry out and beg. 
“Gun’ cum baby, please? Guna’cum for’ya please.” 
Tears up if its really good or if you edged him lol. 
All in All a nice guy to fuck and Date i wont him. 
Eddie Munson SFW :)
Will make you a mixtape way before you start dating and if you listen hard enough that was his original confession. 
He likes to make NPC's in his campaigns based off of you :) whether they be random passerby or main baddies. 
Doesnt matter what shape, size, gender, ethnicity, race anything. If Eddie falls for you? He's All In. He loves HARD and he doesnt give a shit about consequences. 
His queer awakening was Slash lol
Probably autistic, but its the 80's and its rural Indiana so. No Outlet for that. 
His best friend is 100% Dustin they hang out regularly. He's trying (slowly hut surely) to teach Dustin some guitar stuff. 
Eddies idea of a date is driving out to empty fields in the van with some burgers and a joint or two and stargazing. He knows a lot about astrology and definitely shows off his knowledge. 
He's a cuddle bug. Leeches your warmth in the winter and sticks to your sweaty skin during the summer. If he's not sleeping flush against you hes whiney as fuck. 
He likes to wrap his arms around you from the back when you guys are just standin' places. He's a lil lanky so he just kinda curls himself around you, no matter if you're taller or shorter than him. 
he likes to call you "your majesty" a lot, and not in a condescending way. 
"you're royalty babydoll, should be treated that way" hands you a rock he thought you'd like.
hes very much the 'crow friend' if you've seen those tiktoks?
keeps a box of shiny stuff, fancy rocks, funky sticks, jars, and weird shit he found that he likes to show you sometimes and give you if he thinks you'll like it. 
very sensitive to rejection, has attachment issues. 
his parents left when they realized he was getting caught too often doing illegal shit for them so they dipped and he took it to heart. 
still convinced Wayne thinks he's a burden
please kiss his cheeks and play with his hair and call him pretty he blushes so nice. 
he gets freckles during the summer and a REALLY nice tan if hes out enough. 
never learned how to swim correctly, is self taught. 
used to chew on his hair and still does if he's Very upset or close to a meltdown. 
NSFW
umm bottom lol sorry
or a pushover service top
i cannot see him as a massive sadist it doesnt fit im sorry
likes to dress up sometimes :) likes feeling pretty and dainty 
he just hangs around naked sometimes? he seems the type to me?
PUSSY!! EATING!! KING!! 
eats pussy for HIS pleasure and will go till he gets lockjaw and THEN some. 
the one on this list who Knows how to make AFABs squirt. and is PROUD of it. 
is actually very shy? knows people dont like him usually and is worried its a prank. 
wants his ass ate sorry not sorry it had to be said. he thinks it would feel fucking amazing and he deserves it. 
he LOVES being ridden, titties bouncin' in his face, tummy jigglin' for him to grab onto. he fuckin ADORES it. 
hes GRABBY. he grabs at your ass, hips, thighs, stomach, shoulders. Anything He Can. he just gets so needy 
he begs so pretty. loves being overstimulated and gets shakey after his first orgasm but wont stop you till hes cumming dry. 
"cm-cmon..can…i can c-cum again bab-baby i can. puh-puh-promise i can." 
LOVES when you baby talk him but like, in a condescending way? 
"oh sweet thing :( just gotta cum so bad huh? couldnt wait could you, just had to act like a needy slut, yeah?" "mhm, mhm, needy..needed it, so bad. so bad." 
drools lol hes like A Dog. his legs get shakey and his head rolls and he grins like a maniac and theres spit dripping down his chin and im <3
loves to finger you, anywhere, really. and loves when you just shove a hand down his pants and jack him off. 
the kinda guy who would refer to your pussy as "his girl" 
He’s a fuckin perv. Steals your undies and has a stash of them for ‘safe keeping’. Porn mags out the ass. Normal ole teenage boy stuff lol. 
he'd let you use his dick as a stim toy /hj
Billy Hargrove SFW
Boy is an ASSHOLE okay? lives to bully and tease you at first (and even after you're dating but then its affectionate) 
He has a lot of resentment towards positive female/female presenting roles in his life because of his mom i think? and he REALLY has to work on that shit, and if you have the heart to help him with that you're a saint. 
I think the best approach would be to help him from outside. Let him do some introspective shit and just kinda. Guide him. 
Okay so he knows hes a dick, hes trying to get better this is prime, please ask HIM out time. 
He will get so incredibly flustered if you ask him out on a date or something he wont know what to do. 
Hes used to being the flashy one. The Stud. the Untouchable. A Lot of internalzed homophobia in this bad boy. Toxic Masculinity ftw
After the Mindflayer he is a Lot different and i really want to write my specific headcanons and ideas on how he survived/what happened after lol
Hes more subdued, he's quiter, he doesnt lash out as much. He's still, ragey, obviously but its toned down a lot. 
He's not quite as outgoing either, which Max helps a lot with. They get close. 
You and him get closer too. 
I think you guys start as FWB and escalate from there because what ELSE would happen with Billy Hargrove. 
Uhhh he secretly likes rom coms sorry not sorry. 
He LOVES sixteen candles its one of his favorites. 
his queer awakening was :) tom cruise in top gun, that basic bitch. 
he likes when you call him baby/baby boy a LOT. 
he gets FRECKLED in the summer. He tans so pretty and he gets a nice little flush/sunburn on his cheeks and ears that makes him glow. He really thrives in the summer. 
City Boy. Has never seen a cow irl until Hawkins and is terrified of them, please show him they are gentle giants. 
He likes to go to drive ins (and make out) for dates before the mindflayer. He still likes to do that AFTER the mindflayer but hes much more a homebody now so he really likes napping together. 
calls you bitch but affectionately. 
is an AVID reader actually? i love the headcanon that Billy is Wicked smart so i like to think he reads alot. 
he likes period romances (jane austen is his GIRL)
he thinks cooking together is the height of domesticity and at first it freaked him tf out how much he liked doing it with you. now he eases into so quickly its a little funny. 
feral mountain lion turned a little less feral house cat energy.
likes when you call him Bills :)
Likes to walk with his hand in your back pocket and yours in his. 
NSFW
So at first, he's hyper-dominant. Won't let you even Ride him. He's in his head about it 100% he doesnt want you to think he's weak. Men dont take it like that. 
He soon learns you VERY much like it when he's crying for you  
Hes a power bottom i wont take arguments. 
He's also a fuckin BRAT. Needs you to put him in his place but Gently. Needs a firm hand but do Not raise your voice at him or he shuts down. 
It takes a while before he trusts you enough to let you see this side of him and you need to respect that. He will come to you when he's ready. 
He knows hes pretty and he uses it against you. Flutters his eyelashes and smiles all pretty and puffs his chest out. Lays himself out to make himself real pretty. 
Praise tf out of him please he'll cry. 
"Oh pretty baby, you're doin' so good :) such a perfect boy for me. feel so good in me handsome." He's tearing up and nodding so hard. 
"Yeah. Yeah m'good. M'good boy. Doin' good." Under his breath with his eyes squeezed shut, white knuckling the sheets. 
Needs a lot of reassurance that you're feeling good. He spent a lot of time not really giving a shit if the girls he was with got off so with you? He's constantly. "Is that right? That feel good? Want more?" He wants to be perfect for you. 
Sometimes, after the nightmares are getting worse and he's so sleep-deprived he's cross eyed and he can't really think he needs you to take him apart and he goes so willingly.
He gets whimpery and almost immediately oversensitive. Like his cock is a livewire. His fingers and lips tremble and he's trying so hard to keep his eyes on you, to be a good boy. He goes pliant and soft and gets this silly little smile on his face. Eyes hazy and wet. He hums and nods and lets you do whatever. He knows he's safe. 
The scars ARE sensitive lol you heard it here folks. 
He doesnt fuck you with the lights on or fully naked for almost a year after he's fully healed. 
He rubs vitamin E oil and scar softner into the skin where he was attacked twice a day, every day, for a year before you get to see them. 
He breaks down when you call them pretty :) 
And you BETTER think he's still handsome or i'll find you istg /hj
Uhh, this may be a personal want of mine or a real headcanon but I think he would like to try makeup? Like a full glam rock, smokey eye red lip whole shebang. 
Fuck him so good his mascara runs. 
Prolly has a mommy kink but i’m not brave enough to write that (unless…)/hj
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buckysred · 2 years
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Proud
Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel wakes up a little down in the dumps so you attempt to cheer him up. 
Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, sad azzy, bad editing, that's literally it
Word Count: 653
A/N: I’ve been on a writing drabble kick lately so have any acotar requests send them in ;). (I also wrote this in under an hour so excuse anything that's not cannon accurate like the non-magic fridge lol) 
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Azriel had a habit of letting negative emotions consume him. You knew he took pride in being the Spymaster of the Night Court. But he still had to live with the violence he committed, even if it was in the name of protecting his court.
So, when you were sitting down sipping your morning tea, and Az dragged himself into the kitchen, you knew what was up. Usually, his walk was quiet but confident, precise. But today, his feet visibly dragged. It had your heart pulling for him knowing that his demons were being particularly hellish today.
Azriel had moved over to the fridge, ruffling through it mindlessly, when you got up and wrapped your arms around his torso. You let your nose rest into the curve of his back, being careful of his wings. “G’morning, sweetheart.”
Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever haze his mind had gone into. Az turned in your arms, lifting his scarred hand to cup the back of your head. You watched his tired eyes fall into focus with your mouth. “Morning. How’re you?”
His eyes were still focused on your mouth, but he didn’t make any move towards closing the gap between you. Instead, he just hushed his hand down your head until he reached your neck. You scowled a little at that. “Was doing pretty good until this moment. Don’t I get a good morning kiss?”
A small smirk flitted across his face. Your eyes softened at it, progress. “Y/n, if you want a kiss, all you’ve gotta do is ask nicely, and I’d happily grant you relief.”
You scoffed at his choice of words, bringing your hands from his torso to wrap them around his neck. “Relief? In that case, I can go without. Thank you.”
You moved to turn away, but Az was quicker, plopping a short but dizzying kiss on your lips. The triumphant smile that pulled across your mouth had Az’s heart lightening even further. The guilt and shame that harassed him in his sleep becoming a thing of the past with just one smile from you.
Azriel dropped his head into the crook of your neck. His voice was muffled against your soft skin, “Difficult. Always have to be so difficult.”
“I wasn’t the one that came in here looking all sleepy and grumpy. Now, was I? I just couldn’t help teasing you a little.” Your fingers massaged the nape of his neck lightly.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”
You both just stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other. Az’s warm body leaning into yours, while you massaged anywhere your hands could reach on him. His body slowly melted, the tension releasing in his muscles.
When a few moments passed, you spoke up again, your voice gentle, “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Azriel lifted his head so he could look into your eyes, his eyebrows bunching together. “Proud of me for what?”
You brought your hands up to his cheeks, your thumbs swiping over his cheekbones. “For being strong and courageous. For being the shoulder I, or anyone, needs to lean on. For just being completely you.”
Azriel’s reply came in the form of a heart-stopping kiss. His mouth molded against yours just like it always did. So sugary, sweet, and full of love that it had your head swimming.
Before either one of you had the chance to pull away, Cassian’s voice broke your shared bubble.
“Um- are you guys seriously just gonna stand there and make out while the fridge door is open? Cause when that thing stops working, I’m not taking the fall for you with Rhys.”
While still kissing you, Az raised a middle finger at Cassian. Earning a muffled laugh out of you and an annoyed grunt from Cassian.
Az pulled away from your giggling mouth and pressed his forehead against yours. He didn’t have to say it, you saw the immense gratitude in his eyes.
You pecked his lips once more. “Anytime, baby.”
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d0not-disturb · 22 days
Note
Hello there! I know you're upset and you are absolutely in your right to be- my top ship isn't scar/ian either and it is always disappointing to see the tags never updating, it can be up to a month before a new fic for example in my case, and it genuinely sucks- but I just want to say that it's generally proper courtesy to not tag the things you are talking negatively about as they will be shown to the people you are trying not to interact with. Just because something is popular or that you don't like it does not mean it's inherently worse or that others should change, and like I said, you are completely in your right to vent about it, but tagging it and showing it to the people who do enjoy and are likely checking that tag to see content about what you are venting about likely won't end well.
You should enjoy the things you like without feeling a need to prove anything to anyone else, but that does go both ways. It's up to you to curate your internet experience by blocking people and tags. Trying to control other's behavior will only frustrate you more, especially since no one is out here making shipping content to be malicious or attack you personally. They are only trying to enjoy their own time in the fandom, it's not anyone's responsibility to make content for you specifically in a community space like this.
Mkay
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shallowoak · 4 days
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Little Words in the Small Hours
>> Or read on AO3 here! <<
Summary: Finding himself as Law’s guardian and father figure, Rosinante ponders the nature of parenthood through his own experiences. With thanks to @lunarforrest for proofreading! ❤️
Word Count: 6.9k Rating: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Sengoku The Buddha, Donquixote Pirates (One Piece), others mentioned - Character
Additional Tags: Rosi-centric, rating is for themes and explicit language, descriptions of physical abuse, descriptions of childhood trauma, Canon-Typical Misery, Canon-Typical Violence, Pre-Canon, One Shot, Character Study, Introspection, spoilers for dressrosa, both Rosinante and Law are autistic, it was just going that way, Autistic Trafalgar D. Water Law, negative views on the military, though this is OP so I don't suppose you were willing to accept authority anyway, but just in case, headcanons galore, what can you do when your fav is taken away 5 mins after being introduced, yes I'm fine thanks for asking, yet another excuse to write a blonde man having a crisis, use of Den Dens as assistance animals, we love worldbuilding, Medical Inaccuracies, (X Drake drowning in the pool) this ain't about him
Through the gap in his cabin curtains, Rosinante watched as snow fell. Aboard passenger ship “The Mixer”, the gentle sway of their overnight crossing should’ve rocked them to sleep hours ago.
Swaddled together under his feathery coat, Law’s breathing was barely visible. Sat upright, one arm supported the small of Law’s back, the other gently petted his hair. Head limply resting against the cabin wall, the scratchy boat-issued blanket was used instead as a foot warmer for Rosi’s too-long legs. Staring unseeing into the dark, unable to find rest, Law clutched Rosi’s unwashed nightshirt as though it were a lifeline.
Not many moons ago, he would’ve craved a journey like this. No knots to tie, no Marine business, no family matters. Just quiet days for reading and long nights for chain smoking with a stranger. Enjoying the easy sounds of a cheap musician as the crew changed over. The liminal space of getting to know a ship, people, the bottom of a glass he knew he’d never see again.
Now, he despised that quiet. The pair could only hold one another as the boy’s laboured breathing filled the room. Quiet gave intrusive thoughts leverage, the pain and lethargy seeming worse at night. Free from the day’s rush of route planning, hospital visits and running, all they had to think about was reality. The increasingly rapid deterioration was more apparent as Law’s skin became less and less his own. The kid scratched it compulsively, wanting to be free of his discomfort, to somehow peel away the poisoned flesh and see himself underneath. He’d tried to teach Law to ground himself, to hold something comforting when he felt the need to itch. His little body had no extra energy to keep stitching up his arms.
An early night had turned into all night.
Nearing thirteen, most kids Law’s age would recoil at the idea of cuddling as the awkwardness of puberty set in. Too proud, too independent to need his love. On the surface, Law was certainly no different. He left a strong impression on everyone he met, unafraid to challenge the world and every blind adult who inhabited it. He’d sooner carve a hole through Rosi’s coat than admit he wanted to be underneath it.
The dark, the relentless cold, the long, fruitless search and endless hours of travel… These things had an effect. One that even Law was not immune to. As extraordinary as this kid was, he was still just a child. A child who had seen and been through things that would leave an adult scarred. A child who needed a gentle hand and comics as a reward for visiting the Doctor.
Over time, his beautiful brown skin had become ashen and cold, all the warm tones cruelly drawn away as the poisoning progressed. White spots-turned patches became increasingly prominent. All but impossible to ignore in the low light.
So, they did the only thing they could do. Wordlessly try to comfort one another, afraid to speak the truth. It did precious little to stop the long note in the back of Rosi’s mind filling him with dread.
Public transport and cosy overnight cabins were a luxury the pair could ill afford. Too traceable, far cheaper and easier to steal a vessel. Between being a Marine and a pirate, manning a small one single-handedly should be a cinch. Equally, it would be easier and safer to leave Law to die. For him to carry on undercover, to not cause a fuss. To let fate take her course and let Law succumb- or live his remaining years believing dying for Doflamingo was ‘love’.
As the deadline loomed, Rosinante’s heart grew fonder. Softer. Determined. It wasn’t justice nor kindness to leave Law to the wolves. It was unbearable to leave Law alone overnight while he manned a stolen boat.
He wouldn’t go down without kicking and screaming, even if he failed. If they couldn’t secure a cure, Law would pass peacefully by Rosi’s side, knowing he was loved. Safe from having to commit atrocities to live. If his brother got hold of Law, he’d sooner shoot the boy himself. He’d choose Law over himself in any situation.
The easiest option was rarely the right one. Rosinante tried to tell himself he deserved to sleep in a bed.
Until a year ago, Rosi had never imagined children in his cards. He’d never enjoyed being a kid, let alone seen the appeal of raising one. He’d never even entertained the idea of a girl -or boy- friend. Before all their strife; Law had been one of two. Rosi was one of two. He did not doubt that Doffy had fathered many more kids than he adopted. People chose to do this all the time. But it never crossed his mind that it was something for him.
A small part of him wished he had a better childhood, a normal one. A small part of him yearned to understand what kind of life Law had led before the disease ravaged his homeland. Maybe then he’d feel more ready for this. Others his age had tried to kill him, just as their parents encouraged. The brothers had been hunted down and punished for their father's and their community's sins rather than their individual actions. He only had Doffy for guidance, a boy brutalised by their ordeal and forced to turn to violence to cope.
They were both changed for the worse. What part of that experience was supposed to help him here? There was so much to fuck up with child development. So many ways to permanently damage a young psyche. So many of Doffy’s learned, twisted ideals he didn’t want anywhere near Law at the most impressionable time in his life. Rosinante hardly felt better. He didn’t feel as though he’d ever truly recovered from his childhood traumas, and now he was tasked with guiding Law through his own. Poor kid had already been through so much. Rosi couldn’t afford to lead him astray.
He’d known a few families in his life, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of any of them. There was a memory of his birth parents trying to provide Doffy and him with a real life. With more than what they had. To try to give Law more than what he had wasn’t saying much- yet still felt like a mountain to climb. Sengoku had made it look easy, taking in someone so young and vulnerable with only the simple job of raising them on the line.
As a child, he thought Sengoku was awesome. The shit, invincible. He was like a Dragon, rich and powerful with the world at his feet- but he got to blast bad guys, too. He got to go wherever, command whoever, have whatever. For all their birth parents wanted Rosi and Doffy to lead a normal life, he had fallen on his feet with Sengoku. After months of abuse, mouldy food, loss and sleepless nights in drafty shacks, he’d been comforted to find a familiar home with hot water and soft sheets. In the end, what he knew was luxury.
As an adult…? He wasn’t so naive as to think a family had to be nuclear to work. A family could be a single father and his adopted son. That was his normal; lived it. If he had his way, he’d be reliving it for many years to come. But nothing about his life with Sengoku was normal, really. An admiral for a father figure, almost twice Rosi’s current age when he’d chosen to adopt. He was wise and sound, and he had access to the most powerful support network in the world for anything he needed.
Except… Many of Rosi’s first months were spent not in his care- but in that of a hospital or visiting specialist. After that, he was often away on duty for weeks or months at a time. Even at home, he worked long hours, hardly seeing Rosi as he chipped away at his desk. With Sengoku, he’d been shielded from so much of the world he’d known on the streets. That had been nice at first, but he came to miss someone to play with, regular schooling, and unlimited family time. There was good reason why any sensible Marine took leave or retired to raise their family.
But one of the things he’d never wanted for was medical care. Having found a random child on the street, Sengoku had been wise in getting him checked out. The fleet of Navy Doctors had returned him billed with a long receipt of new diagnoses.
A catalogue of the extensive wounds from his clear history of abuse. Horrific, ugly, burned into the memory of the physicians who saw them. But easy enough to identify and begin to treat. Physiotherapy for his torn shoulder muscles, from where he had been strung up for hours on end. Careful reintroduction to food after malnutrition, a specialised diet to build mass and strength. Extensive grafting and liberal use of creams for his burns. Bedrest for his angry bruises and burst eardrums. He was littered with so many cuts, holes and scrapes that just needed respite and time to repair themselves. For months, he’d looked like a moth-eaten quilt while he recovered. Sengoku amused him, studying the diagram on how to wrap bandages on awkward areas of skin like he would a battle plan- hunched over his desk with his brows furrowed.
Then, there was the acceptance of the permanent hearing loss brought on by prolonged -close-range- exposure to gunfire and explosions. His left ear now heard nothing, whilst the right teetered in the 40-50% range. Therapists helped him learn to live with the difference but there was no cure for clumsiness, only fuelled by the new lack of balance.
He’d been offered something special, a then-experimental surgery. A surgery Vegapunk’s team had been fine-tuning for public use by implementing it in Marine hospital trials. An implant into his left cochlear would allow him some hearing back. A specially shaped Den Den Mushi earpiece would sit on the shell of his ear and act as a receiver and interpreter for sounds. The telepathic snails were billed to provide an overall clearer, more stable sound to the internal components -adapted from the telephone originals- than using electronics alone.
At the time, he’d been sick of surgery. The seemingly endless cycle of groggy pain, tubes, and check-ups. Being stuck inside, summer days wasted with their melding together. Adults looked at him with concern as they kept turning up shrapnel in his scans, time and again. Phrases like ‘implant’ and ‘clinical trial’ had been too much for him then, and he’d been quick to turn down any added grief. The Snail solution was also not a perfect one, as it needed rest and to be fed. It would be closer to working with a service dog, and he’d need to learn how to look after it. He wasn’t sure how to look after himself. No, the old wounds were enough.
Perhaps he would’ve taken it now, having felt the impact of hearing loss in his day-to-day life. Perhaps he’d been a stupid, rash kid. He’d often looked back on himself that way. Though if he had taken it… He couldn’t have cheesed the Marine health check. The external components were much too obvious for even Sengoku to be able to hide on his record. He never would’ve gone through basic or field training, never deployed to spy on his brother. Never would’ve come to meet Law. If he’d made the choice he’d always scorned himself for? His dad could still probably swing him a desk job for the Marines: pencil-pushing anti-scurvy fruit deliveries. Safe. Sonless.
On the mental side, there were long-term conditions to contend with. The aspects of Rosi that were harder to pin and even slower to treat. Hordes of unprocessed grief, paranoia, generalised anxiety, insomnia. It culminated with a healthy topping of PTSD. Rosi’s schedule of pills and appointments rivalled Sengoku’s business calendar for a time. Finally, the one that stumped his father the most. Autism. He’d always remember the look on his father’s face as they sat in that office.
In time, it would be something he’d come to learn he shared with Law, although the two experienced it differently. Rosinante’s own was sensory-biased, his social symptoms negligible before the abuse exasperated them. Noise, light and touch. All things he struggled with. Some days, he’d shriek in the bath, find the hospital too bright, or try to bolt when Sengoku hugged him. It had taken a monumental amount of trust and gentle convincing for the hair to be removed from over Rosi’s eyes. He’d resented the sharp, unfamiliar equipment, the feeling of little prickly hairs against his skin, and the prospect of more light hitting his eyes. Audio processing issues combined with hearing loss made calming explanations difficult to understand. Things often needed to be repeated and for a time, the world only grew more terrifying. Sengoku didn’t recommend him for undercover work because he was good with the sounds of battle or because he could process new information quickly. In battle, there was a real chance he’d be stabbed long before he noticed the wielder’s approach.
From what he could gather, Law’s experience was more socially skewed. He struggled to both display and understand emotions. He took things literally and spoke bluntly, the heart on his sleeve sometimes seeming unforgiving to the uninitiated. Law tended to fixate, tunnel visioned for months on end. He could tell you in (literally) nauseating detail about his favourite medical processes. Or his favourite writing techniques used in the comics he liked.
They both found change hard, their new circumstances confusing. Their lack of routine or stability, the constant new faces and towns, made Law antsy. As their journey continued, Law had less to say. Less patience to spare. As a self-conscious teen, Doctors often assumed Law was brought in to be referred for counselling- that he needed help accepting his Autism or ‘Vitiligo’. He probably did, but it was never the main issue. After a while, Law stopped correcting them and stopped speaking up. He let his dad run him through the motions.
It was hard for Rosinante, too, to see and understand that pain. Not being able to do anything to alleviate it. Forced to carry on with the only option they had. He was starting to resent himself for the quiet his power created. For taking Law into a place which made him uncomfortable. For feeling like he wouldn’t be enough.
Sengoku was neither detached nor the most gentle of hands. His job was to be confident and turn the neurotypical into soldiers. He represented the World Government and expected others to fall into line. But even when he wasn’t sure what to make of Rosinante’s behaviour, he’d always been enough. A warm hand to hold, a secure home, a steady job.
Despite his choosing to tackle Rosinante’s trauma response with navy indoctrination. Despite his belief that regardless of Rosinante's disposition- discipline and structure were sure to yield results. That in Sengoku's mind, it was business as usual.
Despite his numerous faults, Sengoku had been a good father to him. He diligently and often single-handedly took care of Rosi when he was around. Rosi had been a quiet, sensitive child, and Sengoku had always been firm enough to slowly push him out of his shell.
Once he’d been deemed old and fit enough, he’d been allowed to accompany his father on safer voyages. Time on the sea had been presented to him as part of his recovery, that it would be good for him to get fresh air and see some sights after being inside for so long. Whilst not untrue, both father and son knew it was cover so they could spend more time together.
His days as a glorified ship’s mascot had been a blast. He had no official job, but he spent his days soaking up information, experiences, and affection from his crew. He got to see his dad daily and get tucked in every night. They played board games in their quarters and identified sea mammals together. When the cannons were tested, Sengoku comforted and taught him how to protect his ears. And why Marines needed those loud sounds he was so afraid of. How they could be used to protect. They bonded, truly, as father and son.
The books and globes in the map room showed him the world, the navigation crew was only too happy to show off what they knew. Having only known sunny, moderate climates, places like deserts and tundras seemed like that of myth. Watching the cadets work by day, he got a good feel for terminology, knots and drills. During mealtimes, they'd chat about daily life back home and regale him with fanciful tales of mermaids and adventure. Being with them was the closest he got to normality his parents dreamed of.
Hanging around with his Dad gave him exclusive access, too, to explore the private areas of a ship without being summoned there for punishment. Eventually, he even learnt what it was that his Dad actually did.
He'd never thought of it as conditioning, but at 16, with a gentle push from dad, he’d signed up for basic training to join the crew full-time on the other end. And sure, he did turn out to be a decent Marine. He never fought back on Sengoku’s ideas. Eventually, they even put him in charge of others, which had always seemed like a mad decision to him. Being a Marine gave him something to do and a way to make his father happy. Being with Law now was the first time he’d ever carved his own path.
Rosinante still felt young in the only way he had left. Even after years of therapy, he felt no closer to true normalcy. Too much to reflect on, much more to learn- and precious little time. His kid couldn’t afford for him to be lost in his head, reeling from the past- wondering if Sengoku was any parent worth replicating. Wondering even if he could. Law needed his guidance, his support, and his answers now. Could Rosinante be trusted to provide a good life for Law- where professionals had failed him?
Thinking back, he was starting to feel that Sengoku had been this way, too. He’d loved Rosi unconditionally but hadn’t really known what to do with him. Nor had he the time to learn. For all his good intentions, it had been easiest to put Rosi into a box of his ideals and call the job done.
Bringing his mind back into the present, he held Law closer, resting his chin on the crown of the boy’s head. As if he wasn’t already too late to shield Law from anything.
Maybe enlistment was the only way Sengoku could think of to keep an eye on his vulnerable son. Maybe he was actually insane, thinking the military was any autistic person’s first career choice. His head spun listlessly. What the hell did either of them know about raising kids?
Shifting at the pressure, Law looked up at Rosinante.
“Toilet.”
Right. They’d been lying here awake for four or five hours now. He should probably go himself. Smiling gently, Rosi shifts the arm supporting his back to scoop up Law, his rear now resting on his arm. Law clings to him like Koala joey as they leave the cabin.
He thinks it sweet that Law still wants his security. That a kid so willing to kill still doesn’t want to walk an unfamiliar hall alone at night. He has to have hope that there’s still time to fix this. Law might not have his sea legs yet, but Rosi isn’t much better. Thank goodness it’s a calm night; he’d rather not go ass-over-hat with his kid in hand. That clumsiness never failed to amuse his fellow seamen. He traces along the wall with his free hand until they reach a small communal washroom.
The pair leave each other to their business, taking a stall each. He takes a longing look at the showers, knowing he’ll have to take a bath stool to fit under the shower head. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. He’d been putting off washing and using the laundry service so their clothes would stay clean for longer once they were back on dry land.
Eventually, the two finish washing up, and Rosi scoops Law back up to pad back to their room. Even if Law wanted to walk, Rosi couldn’t reach down far enough to hold his hand. Somehow, he feels more tired after having gotten up. He’s thankful every night that Law came into his life not needing to be fed at 3 am.
He lifts the feather coat left on the bed, gently depositing Law underneath it. The small lump on the mattress doesn’t move. Rosi stares blankly at the dozing lump before tucking it in and arranging the sucky boat blanket as a pillow on the floor. For such an underdeveloped kid, be sure does take up a lot of space. He doesn’t mind, though. He’d known this was coming; he’d been too tall for the standardised mattress from the start. Besides, Law had the rule of cute and couldn’t be moved.
Only as Rosi shifts to curl up on the floor does Law stir, shuffling the coat to stare at his dad. Rosi stares back. A little hand appears from under the fluff, patting the bed and making a grabbing motion. His whole body then scoots closer to the inside of the bed, up against the windowed wall.
How can he say no to that? He’s so proud of Law for considering him!
Feeling sufficiently sleepier, Rosi opts to lie down facing towards Law, his knees bent and feet hanging out of the covers. The position isn’t optimal but it makes Law happy. His arm finds Law’s hat and passes it to him before loosely resting on the coat in a gentle hug.
Like them, that hat had been through a lot. It was the one thing Law still carried from his home island. He used it as a plush toy at night and thumbed it during the day when he was nervous or needed to itch. Frayed patches in the brim were already starting to appear. If it wasn’t being held, he wore it as though he’d crumble without its presence.
When Law joined the family, they’d tried to prise it from him. Tried to burn it with the rest of his old, corpse-stained clothes. There was no way they’d ever been clean, healthy enough to wear again. He wouldn’t say exactly how many days he had hidden in the corpse pile, let alone how long ago they had been fresh on. The rest of his wardrobe had been replaced, and Giolla and Baby 5 loved the opportunity to start fresh and dress Law in the same fun patterns as their Corazon. But taking the hat crossed a line. Even for the eccentric family, that hat was disgusting. It still had old, caked in blood on it. It reeked of sweat, bile and death. Turns out Law liked the stench of death. That was what home smelt like.
Law had bitten Diamante several times for trying to take it, threatening to eat his fingers so that Doffy couldn’t sew them back on. Ultimately, Doffy had to oversee an ‘intervention-negotiation’ to sort the matter out. Gladius tried to convince him a replica could be made, as his own clothes often needed replacing. Pica suggested some form of resin encasement. Baby called him a rat boy. No dice. Eventually, they’d reached the compromise that Law could keep the hat after a thorough washing. Sugar was picked as most suitable for the care of materials, and her soul was bored by gold eyes during the entire process.
After the washing, Law wasn’t happy for days. Not until the hat smelled right again- if a little less like death this time. But much to Rosi’s horror, Doffy’s intervention on Law’s behalf had only strengthened their bond.
There was real irony in how Law and a surprising number of other kids liked Doflamingo so much. A man equally damaged by his past as Rosinante and Law, only his trauma had manifested itself in a far more dangerous way. The way Doflamingo dealt with his issues made self-destruction look preferable. It was endlessly worrying to Rosi that these strays found care and support from an adult, he would argue; was the worst he knew. That Doffy would radicalise these kids like Trebol and the others had done to him all those years ago. He could see that cycle beginning to continue and it horrified him.
In trying to appear ruthless, to protect them, there hadn’t been any room for bonding. Even for their safety, he couldn’t allow himself to slip. But being so close to Doffy did allow him to learn the patterns.
He'd never anticipated this many when he’d agreed with Sengoku to ward off kids and stop the crew from growing. For all his brother did underground, he was far from subtle with his daily persona. Dressed loud, laughed loud, dreamed and dealt loud. Where he went, people took notice. People got ideas.
Kids whose parents had chosen the pull of the tide over them. Brave, stupid kids who egged each other on to test their mettle talking to a real captain. Desperate mouths who needed feeding, thinking they could learn his underhanded methods. Those were the ones who were easy to scare off, to knock sense into.
It was the ones with nothing to lose and everything to gain that were dangerous. Doffy was drawn to the ones with strong ambitions and no inhibition. He had been that child. He knew how to exploit brave souls who ignored all the red flags for personal gain. Letting Rosi scare off the ones with sense was an effective screening method, cutting out a lot of legwork for Doffy. Anyone who stuck around after being beaten by the ‘half-giant brute’ was the most vulnerable. The easiest to manipulate.
Easy to manipulate… Diamante's harsh criticisms of Rosi being 'damaged' and 'unintelligent' rang through his mind.
Mariejois was a strange place. Eerie, dreamlike. Nightmarish. It stood perpetually in the witching hour of the Gods, within the veil of unreality. A confusing place. The inhabitants were supposedly the freest, most powerful, most important people in the world. But still, they had to conform. Rosinante and Doflamingo had been expected to dress the same way as their parents and attend the same functions from birth. They were expected to live outlandishly, frivolously, in the same manner as everybody else. Their personalities and futures had been decided from the start.
Their father had been cast out for his sensitivity, for thinking differently. For wanting differently. Ultimately, he had died for it. Doflamingo didn’t think differently. At first, he had wanted back in, more than anything, to ascend both figuratively and literally. Even for a choice the child didn’t make, Doffy’s bubble of conformity burst. Forever outcasted and angry, he was going to destroy them.
Even if Rosinante had never left, he would’ve never truly fit in. No matter how many years passed, there would be no closure as to whether his emotional sensitivity was natural or an effect of his abuse. Attuned over the years to look for imminent threats, the slightest changes. If his difficulty speaking -the ease with which he slipped into his role- was a product of being unsocialised as a child or through trauma. Could even his clumsiness be a mask? A learned behaviour to appear less threatening, less deserving of abuse? He was frequently described as aloof. Off-putting. People thought of him as abnormal, unhinged, and incomplete. Lacking in personal style. That was before he put on his undercover persona. He was still adjusting. He’d never stop adjusting.
It was neither here nor there. Being autistic was not the prescribed way to be a Dragon. There would be no understanding or adjustment. Not if the material of his clothes made his skin crawl. Not if the frequent parties burnt him out or tripped him into social faux pas. He’d be laughed out without ceremony, and for all the power his father didn’t hold, Rosi may have found himself as a servant or even a slave.
For what it was worth, those loyal to Doffy were supported and accommodated. He’d never let anyone talk shit about Pica’s voice or show discomfort around Trebol’s mucus. He happily facilitated Diamante’s weird need for both approval and bloodlust. The kids he took in were provided for and protected by their elders. Despite popular belief and countless reports, he’d defended Law’s right to exist without hesitation. With his countless connections and eye for cutting through bullshit, he’d learnt the truth and dispelled fear from the family. Just once, he’d used his powers for good. But it was useless to imagine his ways ever changing as he welcomed Law’s nihilistic ideals with open arms.
For what it was worth, Doffy had always defended Rosi. From when they were small and Rosi could do nothing to defend himself. To now, riddled with afflictions, real and fake, even if Doffy saw through them- he still accommodated all of them. He never assumed Rosi could do or be less. Didn’t assume Rosi wasn’t listening just because he couldn’t speak. Always checked in after a briefing, explaining things slowly and giving Rosi time to write. He kept the other members off his back and ensured he was comfortable.
It was easy to see why troubled kids liked him, really. To come from nothing and find sanctuary, understanding- and power. To not be dissuaded but enabled. To be pushed to new heights was to serve his needs. Most troubled adults still couldn’t see past his platitudes. But that was how he got people. He lured children, Law, further and further into this underground world of terror, from which they would never be able to escape. Doffy’s latest scheme, to groom Law to die for him as another cog in the Donquixote machine, was perhaps his most heartless yet. How little another Human life meant to him.
Manipulation had always been one of Doffy’s strong suits; he knew what buttons to push. Try as he might to mask it, he had not returned unscathed from their ordeal. It was an open secret among the family that their head was legally blind. He saw in tunnel vision, the dark surround of which flashed with half-processed light. Though his fashion sense was widely regarded as worse than Rosi’s own, the bright colours were easier for his eyes to detect. For a time before his Haki was fully developed, he used the parasite puppet to see his new members. Not accommodating other’s needs would be hypocritical of him.
Physical health aside, that plague-drenched rat of a man had been more apparently damaged in his psyche. He could no longer truly care for anyone except himself and would never be able to put another before him. The last time he had done so, he had lost his entire family. Never again would he be controlled or outplayed. Understanding his people was only a means to an end; allowing them to work harder for him. Making them believe they couldn’t live without him. Trust Doffy to put sanctuary seekers under his thumb. Those with issues were just easier to manipulate. They both knew that from experience.
He knew from the first utterance of ‘family’ that there was more to the dynamic than met the eye. He and Doffy were thankfully dissimilar in all the ways that mattered, but in the end, they both still value family. Doffy had always yearned for what he had lost, forever unable to escape the past fully- and what that companionship and validation meant.
It was foolish to expect it to be innocent. True, you could take the reading that ‘family’ was perhaps more fitting for a crew who largely did not sail. And yet. Whitebeard rather famously referred to his men as sons. Germa was publicly a royal family but presented itself as an army and force first. What his brother had was not a family. It was a collection of people who ate his lies and believed the hype. It was a crime den more akin to a cult than a family. A ring of false promises and safety in numbers, impossible to leave once entered.
In becoming a family, he’d tapped into something more akin to the mindset of Big Mom. With family came loyalty and expectation. It was much harder to betray a family member than a disembodied leader. Not that he’d have any experience with that. He had no doubt he was doing the right thing by running off with Law but ‘family’ always left niggling doubt. No matter how far they ran, the Marines and Donquixotes would always be his family. It would always hurt more to think he was disappointing Sengoku by running. To disappoint mother by harming another. That was a sick power only madmen like Doflamingo would think to wield.
For all those doubts and feelings of self-hatred, Rosi was proud of how far they’d gotten. So far, Law was safe. In another life, he’d take Law further. Keep him safe forever. Truthfully, he knew there was no way they could both survive this. Not for any extended length of time. Even if he cured Law, there was no way Doffy would let Rosi live to see it. He wouldn’t take kindly to his scapegoat being influenced by outside forces or his plans being ruined. Doffy was the type to hold grudges, even if he had to hunt them down for years to come. If Doffy couldn’t live forever, he would at least take Rosi’s years down with him.
But seeing Law peacefully asleep, he allowed himself a small moment to imagine their future- how he’d establish them. A timeline in which this accursed boat wasn't taking them to some dark, Arctic recess of the North Blue.
Naturally, they’d hide in the East Blue. Skip seas to be far away from the family’s eyes. With any luck, the fabled ‘safest sea’ would have a lessened military presence. He’d pick some relatively safe, nowhere island where they wouldn’t be recognised. This meant nowhere too noteworthy or prosperous, lest it attract the attention of pirates and Marines. They’d be poor but happy; nothing wrong with that. He’d known rock bottom before and it wouldn’t be that way again. He wasn't a Dragon now. He was safe, could hold a job and had military training. He could protect them.
Somewhere completely average for a perfectly normal family.
Requirements aside, he wasn’t looking for much from the island itself. All he really wanted was other kids for Law to learn and play with. His mind’s eye chased the fantasy. A quaint schoolhouse of just two classes. Well-used blackboards and slightly rocky seats, old names and jokes scratched into the desks. A quiet, undemanding school where all the parents and kids knew each other. Surrounded by friends and well-meaning adults. Seas, he hoped Law would be able to make some nice friends. How lovely would it be for him to be influenced by normal kids? Kids who hadn’t grown up like Rosi and Law had? Kids who shared games, got messy outside and would copy Law’s homework…
A library or bookshop would be nice, if not a formally organised school. Law had already come so far with self-study; he’s sure they could make a form of homeschooling work. By the time Law was old enough for medical college, they should be safe enough to move island.
His boy graduating. All grown up and helping others. Successful in keeping a heart full of love and compassion. A prodigy who would continue to research new methods of recovery. This fruit could change everything. How nice it must be to be a parent with normal ambitions. He’d love to be there for as long as Law would have him.
As for himself? Well, he’d need a new identity to start. He’d seen enough witness protection procedures to know that much. Easy. Just become someone new. Someone far removed from the records, the bounty posters, the divine descension. Trafalgar Rosi had a cute ring to it. Rosey. Rosy. Rossi. Rosie? Rosie. Then it would look different on paper, enough to deter anyone who didn't already know the name Trafalgar Law.
Of course, it was only practical to change his name if he were to be inconspicuous as Law's father. Father... the thought made him giddy. Maybe he'd finally try growing that beard Sengoku had always warned him off.
As for his career… hm. He’d need something very ordinary for that, too. After burning down so many hospitals, he could definitely have a future in demolition. The medical circle probably wouldn’t want to see his face as a nurse. But then, what peaceful village would have steady work for him? Equally, they were unlikely to need his skills as a trained gunman except as a game hunter in Autumn. There was always childcare; after the kids of the Donquixote Pirates, nothing these ragamuffins had could phase him.
He could set up a Den Den switchboard and direct calls. Plenty of islanders didn’t keep them due to the care and set-up costs weighed against the usage. A small fee to use one when needed was preferable to most. Communication was at the crux of his role as a spy, so he may as well lean into his training. Plus, he’d get to take care of lots of cute Snails. He could see himself whiling away an afternoon painting one or making up the accessories.
Maybe there would be some kind of neighbourhood watch or council? Then he could do all these odd jobs. Get involved with all the news- a good source of information and an easy aid for his sense of security. Sounded peaceful enough.
A peaceful life was all he really wanted. Having tasted freedom from The Family and Marines put things into perspective. Travelling with his son and making his own choices, it becomes harder to want to return to work. Risking his life was a thankless task, one he likely wouldn’t see the benefit of whilst he still drew breath. He’d be excited to be a homemaker. Get to know some people his age and settle into a community. Share fruit and books and make-up tips whilst their kids hang out. Feel his presence in a space. To truly matter to people.
If only they lived in a world where all they had to worry about was where to settle down or which school to send Law to. The worries everybody else had-
Rosinante wiped the growing tear from his eye, holding Law ever so slightly tighter. Enough.
There is nothing material he can guarantee. As with his own parents, there is no home to return to. No money, no power, no community. For better or worse, there is no one to fall back on but themselves. Like Sengoku, he cannot magically fix what is broken. He succeeds or Law dies. Like Doffy, he cannot force Law’s hand. It must be guided.
But. Equally.
Like his own parents, he can hope for a better future for his child. Like Sengoku, he can offer all that he can within his power. Even, like Doffy, he can open Law’s heart to the concept of family once again.
There is no guarantee that he’ll be able to undo the damage done, but there’s hope. Maybe, like Rosi, Law will always be recovering. Maybe that constant growth isn’t a bad thing.
The only promise he can make is that his love will never waver, that he will always try his fucking hardest for his son. With an open mind and heart to go forward in their relationship, with whatever time he has left.
For that, he can't be as bad as he thinks. Surely.
Increasingly tonight, he was getting the impression no one knew what they were doing. That all anyone could do was try not to repeat the mistakes of those before them. To treat each other as equals. They were both different to the others around them. But in that way, they understood each other. And through each other, they found the other was every bit as deserving of love as they were. Rosi would be happy if Law came out the other side of this with even an ounce of love and humanity left in his heart. He would’ve succeeded.
Being around Law brought out the best in Rosinante. Law gave Rosi the courage to follow his idea of justice and choose a path for himself. For Law, he would betray everyone he’d ever known. Start a new family. Law gave his life meaning and purpose and made him smile again. Around Law, Rosi knew no bounds.
Rosinante brought out the best in Law. Rosi gave Law energy and brought out the kid in him again. For Rosi, Law would smile and talk about his fixations for hours. Would show compassion and trust. He would give people, and life, a second chance. He’d hope- and dream of a future. Around Rosi, Law was happy.
Together, they were free.
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