#Op this is such a good post you have no idea

[decoy-sammy]

My favorite route as well!!❤❤

Ooh, Opportunist, you awful piece of shit! ^=^

Found my fav Slay the Princess route recently. Dragon my beloved. Your horrifying beak mouth was an impossible-to-refuse lip syncing challenge 💖

Shoutouts to @blacktabbygames for making such a cool game!

[megalony]

Heir To Rome

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine that I had an idea for, and I have a second part complete and waiting to post soon.

I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: All of Rome rejoice at the news of (Y/n)'s pregnancy, especially Geta. And he doesn't care for tradition or praying for a son; all he cares about is (Y/n).

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) could feel her stomach starting to churn. It was as if her insides had knotted themselves up into one large jumble that would never be able to be undone.

A grimace flooded her face and one arm bound around her middle in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort and hold herself together so no one noticed she wasn't her usual self.

It took most of her energy to try and force a smile onto her features when she heard the crowds begin to cheer. She hadn't been focusing on the games since they arrived. She felt bad. She was supposed to be supporting both Emperors and engaging in the games and taking an interest and instead, (Y/n) was sure the crowds would notice how distant and unamused she looked. But it wasn't as if she could help it.

She didn't feel well and trying to put her focus into watching men brutally slay one another and endanger animals wasn't something she felt she could do right now.

Moving her other hand, (Y/n) brushed her fingertips against her flushed temple and tried to tilt her head down towards the arm rest of her chair to hide her plagued expression. She pressed her temple further into her cold hand while her elbow dug down into the arm rest and she leaned towards the left, subconsciously leaning towards her husband in the process.

One leg crossed over the other and she curled slightly in her seat. (Y/n) didn't care if curling towards the left like this made her seem inconsiderate or rude to the people. She didn't care if it looked like she was turning away from them, she would rather be leaning towards Geta and hiding herself away than have them think she was crude or ignorant.

Maybe coming to the games hadn't been such a good idea after all, but (Y/n) hadn't felt able to say no. Whenever Geta asked her to accompany him to the games, she always ended up agreeing. It was such a thrill to see both Emperors enamoured by the games and betting on who would be the victor. And whenever Geta was given the opportunity to decide the fate of the gladiators, it made (Y/n) weak at the knees.

Seeing him stood there, smiling that small but knowing smile with that look of ultimate control and power in his eyes. There was something satisfying about his smirk and that glint in his eyes and seeing him stand to give his decision.

And on some occasions, Geta had taken to looking towards (Y/n) for her to make the decision for him. If she wanted him to spare someone, he would always relent and silently give the order to spare a life. It was one of the reasons why the people had taken to (Y/n) so quickly, they saw how kind and fair she was and how she calmed Geta down and helped him to see reason.

She hadn't realised she closed her eyes until she felt Geta's fingers softly gliding up and down her arm and she looked up to see him holding a glass of wine out towards her.

With a shake of her head, (Y/n) leaned closer to the edge of her seat until she could lay her head on Geta's shoulder and curl one hand around his exposed bicep. She nuzzled her cheek into the cloth of his robes as a shiver coursed through her when the crowd cheered and the unmistakeable scream of a life ending coursed through the air.

She felt the way Geta's frame rattled when he slammed the glass down on the table. Clearly the victor wasn't the one he had betted on winning.

His fingers began to drum against the arm rest, but when he looked back down at his wife, he furrowed his brows and leaned in close.

"Okay?" He murmured quietly against the top of her head, speaking into her hair while he tore his gaze away from the scene ahead of them. The maimed gladiator was being dragged away while the victor was congratulated and a new set of fighters were riled up to be brought in.

"Hm." Lying to Geta didn't seem like a good idea, but she didn't want to tell him how horrid she felt and risk ruining the games.

She might have to tell him she wanted to go for a walk soon so he and Caracalla could continue the games and she could go and wallow in discomfort in privacy. (Y/n) didn't want to lower the mood.

Her lips attached to the side of Geta's neck and she tried to take slow, calming breaths while she felt him lean his head on top of hers and inch closer to her side. She was sure her touch made a smile filter across his face and she felt his hand move to glide up and down her arm while they waited for the next game to begin.

"Ah, this one is a rogue."

Geta's voice caused (Y/n) to turn her head a little so her cheek was still against his shoulder but she could just about see down into the main arena. She wasn't sure she recognised the Gladiator, but then again, she didn't recognise most of them unless they had done something horribly wrong or Geta had pointed them out a few times before.

The gladiator did look rather trecherous with broken teeth on display beneath a snarl, dirt and muck covering almost every inch of his skin and his head shaved. Although (Y/n) wasn't sure whether Geta's comment implied he had bet for this gladiator to live or die. She guessed he had bet for him to live, this seemed like the kind of man who would stoop low to survive.

When the first cut was inflicted, (Y/n) felt Geta sit forward in his seat and she lifted her head so her chin was perched on his shoulder rather than her cheek.

Her left hand stayed curled around his arm and the action was soothing to Geta, for he moved his right arm so it was stretched across (Y/n)'s front and his hand was curled tightly around her thigh. He began absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the inside of her thigh while he leaned forward and curled his other hand into a fist which slammed down on the arm rest.

His lips curled into a savage grin as he watched the rogue take another good hit at his opponent, flashing streaks of blood across the sand.

(Y/n) was sure she could hear Caracalla chanting "Again, again!" as he sat forward and grinned.

She knew she shouldn't look, (Y/n) knew looking wouldn't make her feel any better.

Blood and guts was never something that made (Y/n) squeamish. She had seen the games over the years, she had been exposed to the violence they displayed and it bothered her conscience but never twisted her stomach or made her feel queasy.

Seeing a limb drop to the floor did indeed make (Y/n) feel queasy and worse for wear. She could feel a lump forming in her throat as she closed her eyes to try and remain calm and in control of her body.

Why was she feeling so wretched these last few days? Why did she have to feel so uneasy and sick now when they were supposed to be enjoying the games? This was supposed to be a celebration, a day of spectating and joyeous occasion. Feeling this down and under the weather only dampened the mood for everyone especially if (Y/n) told Geta how she felt.

She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes that could barely stay open even when she shifted her attention to focus on Geta rather than the scene at hand.

The sight of both geta and Caracalla lunging forward towards the balcony was a sight that should have made (Y/n)'s heart soar. It should have enlightened her to see her brother in law leaning over like he was about to jump into the arena himself to show them how it was done. She should have smiled with love and affection when she watched Geta lean his hip against the balcony and place his ring-clad hands down on the smooth marble to peer down for a better view.

The sight should have made her heart soar and brought a smile of endearment to her face. But the sight didn't move (Y/n) as much as the knots and tension in her stomach did. She wasn't sure whether she felt like she was going to be sick or melt into a puddle and neither option was appealing.

"Geta…"

(Y/n) wasn't sure what she wanted or even what she was trying to say, but she knew sitting here for much longer wasn't an option. She would rather be somewhere quiet and private if she was going to be sick. She didn't want people to observe her. But she knew if she tried to leave the colosseum without so much as telling her husband why, he wouldn't be impressed and would follow her immediately.

Her trembling hands moved to the armrests so she could push herself up from her seat, but standing up made (Y/n) lose her sense of balance.

Her head swayed from left to right and her eyes couldn't keep in focus as she felt her stomach give an awful twist. She reached her right hand down for Caracalla's chair that she tried to use as leverage to stay upright as she stepped closer to Geta.

A shudder tore through Geta when he felt a heavy hand rest on the back of his shoulder and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. But his eyes barely looked up and down his wife before she stumbled. He had no chance to ask why she had such a grave expression or why she wouldn't look at him.

He felt her hand slip from his shoulder and the whites of her eyes became visible as her knees bent and her body surged forwards.

A gasp broke free from Geta's lips and his hands grappled to grab his wife while his body jerked to the left to move in front of her. He could just foresee her head slamming into the marble balcony and spilling blood down to the arena floor.

It was hard to grab (Y/n) when they were both at a wrong angle, but Geta managed to curl his right arm around her waist and his left hand clamped on the back of her neck, gripping her by the scruff of her hair so her head bashed into his chest rather than the marble.

The force knocked him back and he had to plant both feet firmly on the floor so neither or both of them didn't fall over the edge.

He could hear the gasps of the crowds and he could see the gladiators pausing their attacks out the corner of his eye. It made him growl. He didn't want people spectating his wife, especially when she clearly wasn't well.

"Oh dear." Caracalla's hand fell to Geta's shoulder while his eyes roamed his sister in law to try and see what the problem was and why she had seemingly collapsed.

With a grunt, Geta pushed forward off the balcony and tried to grapple his arms around his wife a bit better. He didn't need to look to know she had passed out. He felt all the control fade out of her limbs the moment her weight fell onto him. There was nothing but Geta stopping her from crumbling to the floor like a broken piece of art.

It didn't take much to loop his arm beneath her knees and lift her frame up into his arms and he was glad when one of the Generals kindly leaned forward to nudge (Y/n)'s head onto his arm. It wouldn't look too good if her head hung limply over the back of Geta's arm like she had been slain.

"Move. Move." The word spat past Geta's lips while his expression turned to steel.

His lips pressed together into a thin line, his nose crinkled and his eyes narrowed as he weaved between the chairs, carrying his wife in his arms. Clearly she wasn't well, and he needed to take her somewhere private and fetch a healer.

(Y/n) tried her best to steel the shaking in her hands while she unclasped the golden cuff from her wrist. The jewellery was starting to make her sweat, and her necklaces had already been removed that had become tangled when Geta and the guards brought her back to the palace.

She took a deep breath to regulate her system again and pushed up from the sofa, despite the elderly gentleman healer who tried his best to urge her to sit back down.

"Please don't fuss and fetch the Emperor, please." She wasn't keen on healers. They were all kindly enough, but being examined and poked and prodded was never an easy thing, especially by a stranger.

She wasn't going to faint again, despite the news the healer had just given her. She was fine, and she needed to talk to Geta who was somewhere outside- she hoped.

Her hands knitted in her hair and tried to untangle the few knots that had formed in the mayhem of this mornings antics. She could feel the knots unfolding between her fingers, although her hair was still askew and somewhat resembled a birds nest at the back. She could feel it.

She could feel her energy dwindling once again when the door opened and her eyes set on Geta. He raged into the room like a sand storm. Sparks of gold glittering on the walls from how the light caught the crown nestled into his hair and the jewels cladding his fingers and the chains around his neck. He was like a diamond refracting light in all angles.

Her lips tried to curve into a smile while she eased back down into the sofa, it would be easier to sit than to waste energy trying to stand.

One leg crossed over the other while she slouched back against the cushion and tilted her head over the back of the sofa. But she made sure to keep her eyes on her husband, watching the way he stormed towards her with that certain look in his eyes that could go one of two ways, it could mellow and cool or ignite and explode.

Geta took a seat beside her on the sofa and one hand instantly curled around her thigh while the other cupped the side of her neck. He brushed his thumb across her jaw and over the expanse of her lower lip while he tilted her head back. Allowing him a better view so he could assess her and see for himself whether she was alright or not.

He hadn't quite believed the healer when he said that the Empress was much better and back to her usual self. Geta knew collapsing like that signified that there was something wrong. He had never known his wife to faint before, he had seen her when she was unwell or sick and feverish, but she hadn't collapsed out of nowhere like that before.

"Are you alright?" His thumb continued to trace her lip and jaw and he leaned in closer with scrutinising eyes that made (Y/n) feel like she was melting before him.

"I'm fine now," (Y/n) reached her hand up to cup Geta's wrist while she inclined her head to the side to lean into his touch. She found herself smiling when Geta hummed like he didn't truly believe her and his eyes showed he was still scrutinising her for any sign of unwellness or any marks or flushed skin. A simple sign that meant he could grab that healer and threaten him to find out what was truly wrong with his Empress.

She pushed forward until she was close enough to Geta that she could feel his breaths mingling with hers and his lips were almost touching hers. She could feel his parted lips inching closer to hers and how he ran his tongue along his lower lip as if in anticipation.

"But the healer did find something,"

"What?" There was a rather dangerous tone to Geta's voice that made (Y/n) breathless.

His voice was rugged and dangerous. His tone implied if there was the slightest thing wrong, Geta would see all of Rome burn in an effort to restore his Empress to health again. Geta would do anything for (Y/n); she and Caracalla were the only weaknesses he had.

If there was something wrong with (Y/n) that the healers couldn't dissipate then Geta would go to the Gods. He would pilgrimage, he would pray and go to the necessary temples in order to make the Gods heed his prayers and keep (Y/n) in health. Geta couldn't lose her. If he lost her or his twin then he himself would fall to his demise within a heartbeat.

"What did he find?"

Geta was surprised by the smile that lit up (Y/n)'s features; why was she smiling if the healer had found some sort of anomaly?

His eyes narrowed but he quickly looked down when he felt (Y/n)'s free hand move to curl around his wrist that was resting on her thigh. He watched with burning intensity as she unlatched his hand from her thigh but when she pressed his palm down on her abdomen, his eyes narrowed.

The message didn't get through for a heartbeat, until he realised exactly where she had moved his hand and why she was smiling and what she could be so happy about when they had previously thought she had been ill.

She was pregnant.

A gasp caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat when both Geta's hands were suddenly cupping either side of her face and his lips crashed onto hers with wavering abandon. He kissed her so fiercely that he pushed her back into the sofa and his chest crushed down on hers in the best possible way.

His nails were almost piercing through into her skin with how tightly he was caressing her and she moved her hands to his upper biceps to steady herself and find a way to ground herself.

She felt him whispering "A baby," between feverish kisses that stole every ounce of air from her lungs and left her lips feeling swollen and bruised.

This was the only kind of news a healer could give which would make (Y/n) feel relieved and thrilled at the same time. She had been nervous until the healer smiled and gently broke the news. This was what they wanted. This was going to expand their family, their love, and secure Geta's place as Emperor. An heir meant leaving a legacy behind, but that also meant that people would desire (Y/n) to have a boy.

A boy meant an heir to train to be Emperor, someone to educate and learn and pass the crown down to. A girl meant they would have to look for alliances with neighbouring countries, that they would have to find a suitable heir to marry a daughter to.

But (Y/n) didn't want to think of it that way. She didn't want to think of this as providing Rome with an heir, because that wasn't her first thought. This was her and Geta having a child. This would be someone to love, someone to nurture, a piece of them to watch over and guide.

"We're having a child."

***

A smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips as the memory flooded her mind and those words circled on repeat in her head.

'We're having a child.' She could still hear those words in Geta's sweet tone from a memory which had quickly become one of (Y/n)'s most favoured memories.

Her head angled to one side and a fondness welled up inside her as she looked down and began to trace her hands across her bump. Her fingers glided up and down her stomach over her gown while she waited to see if she would feel some movement or if the baby was asleep for the night.

It wouldn't be long now.

The midwife had estimated that it would only be another two months before the baby was due, and (Y/n) was praying nothing would happen or go wrong in that time. She hoped she wouldn't have the baby until then. She had seen countless other women have their babies too early, and the end result was almost never pleasant.

She didn't want that to happen. (Y/n) didn't want to have her baby early and give them a poor chance at life, she didn't want to lose a baby. She knew people had been surprised when the Emperor's mother managed to have twins and lived through the ordeal. Much less that both sons had managed to survive.

It was usually the case that one twin would gain more strength and nurturing than the other, one would thrive and the other would grow weak and fall to demise.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn't having twins. She didn't fancy those kind of odds. The odds of losing her own life by trying to give life to two babies weren't good. It would be a high risk that at least one of them, whether that be (Y/n) or one of the twins would die if she were having two. The chances of safely having this one baby and being okay afterwards were much better.

She knew she wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon, but (Y/n) felt herself relaxing as she started to sink into her thoughts.

That was, until the bedroom door opened and the gratifying sight of her husband waltzing into the room like the higher authority he was made her look up.

Sometimes it seemed strange to see Geta without all the jewels he wore. He had no chains hanging heavy around his neck. There were no rings on each finger. No crown in his hair. No cuffs and golden bands on his wrists and no golden armour cladding his chest.

Right now, he was simply wearing a blood red robe that made (Y/n) wonder if he was wearing anything beneath that or not. She guessed he wasn't.

His lips quirked up into a lopsided smirk and he rose a brow when he caught her staring which she made no efforts to hide. Her eyes followed him as he glided across the marble floor barefoot and moved to sit on the bed beside her.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was quiet as if he thought there were servants lurking behind doors who might be trying to listen in on their conversation.

But they both knew they were completely enclosed in privacy in here. The only way into their bedroom was by walking through the main chamber out front which served as an office for Geta and a reading room for (Y/n). Back here, there was no risk of prying eyes spying on them or ears listening in.

His question made (Y/n) smile because they both knew it was late, and they each knew that Geta clearly couldn't sleep either since he looked wired. He often found it hard to sleep. State and official business wound him up and when he was in those moods he tended to rant and rage and spend time at his desk trying to come up with solutions.

"No, someone's been keeping me awake."

When Geta slouched back into the pillows and leant on his right elbow so he was facing her, (Y/n) reached out for his hand and moved to press his palm to where she felt another kick. She wasn't that annoyed that the baby was keeping her awake, feeling any sort of movement was nice. It reassured her that the baby was okay and the midwife told her that it meant they were strong. That was a good sign.

"So strong," Geta murmured while his thumb stroked up and down the base of her stomach and he leaned forward to attach his lips to the base of (Y/n)'s thrat. He felt the deep breath she took and when he grazed his teeth over her skin he felt her hand tighten around his wrist.

She wasn't entirely sure what he was doing but (Y/n) waited while Geta moved. She watched him twist to face her a little more and his hand remained on her stomach while he stayed propped up on his right arm and he leaned in closer to her. He tilted his head down so he could switch to kissing her shoulder and his cheek leaned against her skin which made her smile brightly. And she was sure she felt him grinning against her when she pressed a soft kiss to his hair.

(Y/n) didn't really want to break this little bubble they had surrounded themselves in and she didn't want to speak and shake the atmosphere, but she felt like expressing the gratitude she felt.

"Thank you, for staying with me and not taking the healer's advice." She pressed another kiss to Geta's hair while she took to gliding her hand up and down his arm from his elbow up towards his shoulder and back down again.

(Y/n) had been a little more than nervous when the healer suggested that they should reside in separate rooms from now until the baby was born. She didn't want to be alone. Of course, it was only suggested for evenings so they wouldn't share a bed because they weren't to be intimate with one another now, to make sure nothing went wrong and no harm was caused to the baby.

But Geta had dismissed the healer's advice straight away and that one fiery look he gave the older man stopped the healer or anyone else from trying to broach the subject again.

A quiet hum vibrated against her neck while Geta moved his hand to begin gliding his fingertips up and down her waist and up the side of her chest.

"He believes me to have no will power. Abstaining from you I can just about handle, but not being by your side is too much to ask."

Geta wasn't stupid, he knew what the healer was asking and he was willing to make the sacrifice of not being intimate with (Y/n). He didn't want to do anything that would put her or their child at risk. It was hard, looking at her and not being able to do anything more than kiss her. It was much harder than Geta ever thought.

He had never wanted someone in his life as much as he wanted (Y/n), that was why he dismissed all his women and concubines the moment they got engaged. And it was why he wouldn't go back to any of those women while he couldn't have (Y/n). She was the one he desired, no other woman could take that place and make him feel the same.

He was doing as advised, he wasn't being intimate with his wife, but Geta had enough self control to lay in the same bed as (Y/n) and not have sex with her. It would be too heart-wrenching for him to stay in another room, to sleep alone when he was used to having her by his side to hold during the night. He liked to feel her presence beside him. He liked to have her there and know she was safe and well.

Being parted from her even for a night was too much to ask and Geta wouldn't do it. There was no harm that could come to (Y/n) or the baby by continuing to share a bed, as long as nothing else happened between them. For now.

"And you don't mind… you don't regret not having any women to go to, like Caracalla?"

(Y/n) couldn't help but feel anxious but she tried to push those feelings aside as she glided her hand up and down Geta's arm and leaned into him a bit more. Her lips smothered the top of his head and she closed her eyes as she inhaled his scent.

This was exactly why her mother told her he would keep his concubines, because he would be forbidden from her when she was pregnant. This was why a lot of men, a lot of Emperors, had those women. So they could still seek pleasure, just not from their wives. They could have their fun without the risk of harming their wife or child.

She couldn't help but wonder if Geta regretted dismissing those women now that (Y/n) couldn't fulfill those needs for him.

But the way he tightened his arm around her waist and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck made her heart add in three extra beats and made the baby squirm. He held her like he was trying to squeeze those thoughts out of her mind. He growled into her neck like those words were poison that he didn't want to hear and he burrowed his face further into her neck until he could feel each throbbing of her pulse.

"Never. You're all I want, all I need."

Looking at another woman felt like a betrayal. Geta didn't want anyone else. No other woman would suffice. No one would do but (Y/n) and if he couldn't have her in those intimate ways, at least he could hold her in his arms and bind her to his chest like this.

She was all he wanted.

***

(Y/n) could see the look of disproval in the midwife's eyes. She could see the irritation written across her face and she could easily guess what was going through the elder lady's mind right now.

She would be thinking that this was no place for the father to be; that there was no place for a man to be present at the birth unless of course it was a healer. The midwife seemed very disgruntled that Geta was now in the room with them when she clearly thought he shouldn't be here.

(Y/n) had been prepared for this moment as best she could. Her mother had walked her through what would happen and how things would progress and what would happen afterwards. She had told (Y/n) that Geta would remain with the Senates and the rest of the council. That he would be the first to be told once she'd had the baby and he could be the first person to come and see her when it was all over.

Clearly her mother hadn't counted on Geta being so intent on being nearby. Instead of retreating to the great hall or one of the studies, he had cemented himself in the adjoining room like a statue, unable to be moved. But it didn't take long for Geta to storm into the bedroom like a whirlwind once he heard his wife's cries.

He couldn't just sit out there and listen and do nothing. He wanted to be in here with her, he wanted to help somehow and to do something. Even if that meant simply sitting on the bed and holding (Y/n)'s hand, then that was what he would do.

Geta didn't know how everyone seemed to expect him to be on the other side of the palace when his wife was in peril. He couldn't understand how they thought he would be able to sit in the next room and hear her anguish and her cries and just ignore it.

As soon as the midwife had tried to tell him to leave, Geta burned her with his scolding gaze and the curl of his upper lip had been enough to silence her. If she wanted to remain in the room then she had to be quiet and cease trying to evict him from his own chambers. From his own wife. She had to put her opinions aside and let him stay or there would be all Hell to pay. It was clear that as unholy as it was, (Y/n) was calmed by her husband’s presence.

And he was the Emperor. The midwife was not going to go up against one of her Emperors and tell him to leave the room. She didn't hold that power or that right and he had made it clear he was staying here with his Empress, she couldn't oppose his wishes in any way.

“Another push, Madam, and the baby will be born.”

(Y/n) couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She could feel the pounding pain in her head, the shredding skin in her stomach and lower regions. She could feel her skin heating up and prickling to the point it felt like she was going to shed her skin like a snake. But the horrible churning in her stomach made her sure she was about to be sick.

She was ready for this to be over.

The only thing that was holding (Y/n) together and keeping her in a somewhat calm state was the feeling of Geta's hand tightly clasped in her own. It was soothing to have his hand periodically squeezing hers and to feel his fingers tapping along the back of her hand whenever he got jittery or impatient.

It was comforting to feel Geta's lips pressing into the crook of her neck and the feeling of his chin digging into her shoulder was grounding her and keeping her calm.

She could feel his other arm bound tight around her lower back with his hand settled on her hip and his chest was pressing up into her back and shoulder like he was trying to prop her up so she didn't fall back into the pillows.

"You're almost there now." Geta's words were a great comfort, but it was more the sound of his voice and the feeling of his words against her neck that made (Y/n) want to smile despite her agony.

She was ready for this to be done, she was ready to hold their baby in her arms and rest for an eternity.

She wasn't ready to see the Senates though. (Y/n) knew at some point whether it be a few minutes after she gave birth or a few hours, the Senates would want to know about the baby. They would want to see the new heir. They would want to find out whether it was a boy for them to try and mould and shape up for the throne or a girl for them to marry off to neighbouring countries.

The senates were like vultures when they wanted to be and (Y/n) didn't want them hovering around waiting to rip her to pieces. She didn't want their congratulations if she had a boy or their hums and disapproval if she had a daughter. She didn't want them trying to muzzle in and ruin this day.

If they dared try and ruin this moment or say one rude word, (Y/n) would lose her temper. She might even pretend to have a funny turn and pretend she was sick to get them to leave. At least whatever happened, (Y/n) knew Geta would be on her side.

A scream burned at the back of her throat as she leaned to the left and merged her temple against the top of Geta's head. But over the static in her ears, she could feel her heart going haywire when she heard what Geta whispered against her throat.

"Almighty Empress."

Those words were enough to set her blood on fire and have her leaning into him more when she gave the final push and she knew it was done. It was all over.

She felt Geta lift his head from her neck so he could attach his lips to the back of her head instead. Her hand started to tremble and felt stiff and numb when Geta slid his fingers from hers so he could reach his hand up and cup the side of her neck. As if he were making sure to keep her burrowed into his chest, keeping her safe and sound.

She relished in the feeling of his lips pressing all over her head and temple, trying to show her how much he loved her and whispering against her skin how well she had done.

When (Y/n) managed to open her eyes properly, her gaze fixated on the midwife who was holding her baby in her arms. She had the newborn resting on her left arm on their chest whilst her other hand was rubbing forcefully up and down their back, clearly trying to clear their airways and start their breathing. That didn't make for a good sign.

She could feel the panic welling up inside of her and it started to make her tremble worse as she stared ahead at the midwife. She paid no mind to the healer who knelt on the end of the bed just to make sure she was alright and wasn't about to start bleeding out or suffering any complications. (Y/n) couldn't care less about that, she wanted to see her baby.

She felt Geta's arm slowly tightening around her waist and his chin turned to rest on top of her head so he could keep her pinned into his chest while he too looked over at the midwife. He felt a great urge to raise his voice and ask her if she was competent and ask what she was doing.

But before Geta had chance to raise his voice or utter one word at all, a cry broke through the air and had them all shivering and swarming with relief.

"It's a boy."

(Y/n) wasn't sure she'd heard that right. She had been preparing herself to hear that she'd had a daughter, although she wasn't sure why. She simply thought a girl was what they would have, almost as if she thought she 'couldn't get it right on the first try'.

She knew everyone would be thrilled to hear it was a boy, and she also knew that people would say she had now 'done her duty' by providing an heir. She had given them a succession to the throne. Part of (Y/n) had been hoping for a girl, she just knew Geta would be endearing and fiercely protective over a daughter.

But seeing him raise their boy and teach him and train him and protect him at all costs would be a beautiful sight too.

(Y/n) wanted to flop back into the nest of pillows and close her eyes; she wanted to fall asleep and disappear for a few hours, or even days. She wanted to rest and sleep and gain back all the energy that the last day had taken out of her. But the bundle in the midwife's arms was too enticing to ignore.

She forced herself to sit forward which caused her back to click into place and her trembling arms reached out when the midwife walked closer.

It was such a strange, overwhelming feeling when her little boy was suddenly placed in her arms and snuggled up against her chest. It didn't seem real. (Y/n) bowed her head to press a tender kiss to his temple while he whimpered and wriggled into her chest like he was trying to curl up and burrow back into her.

Her nerves started to tingle and ignite when she felt Geta's chin perch back on her shoulder again and she felt both his arms curve around her middle so he could press his chest fully up against her back.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bundle in (Y/n)'s arms. But when he managed to drag his eyes to look at his wife, his lips curved into a smile bright enough to rival the sunset.

Despite the sheen of sweat that was vibrant on every inch of (Y/n)'s skin or the way her flowing hair was matted with sweat and clung to her neck, she still looked every inch a Goddess to him. Even though she was still shaking from the after effects of giving birth, she looked truly stunning to Geta.

Geta was glad when the midwife silently dismissed herself. She wasn't needed any longer. The healer was hovering in the corner of the room, waiting until they were ready for him to check over the newborn and hand him over to the maid to be cleaned and dressed. And the maids and servants were on standby in the next room to give them some peace and time to be together without an audience watching.

"How do you feel?"

(Y/n) leaned her head back on Geta's shoulder, trying to fight the tiredness that was almost as strong as the shaking she felt.

She felt good. The shaking, the dull aches and throbbing pains were minimal compared to how elated she felt to be wrapped up in his arms with their son curled up on her chest like this. As soon as she got some sleep, she would feel even better.

"Tired… would you like to hold him?" (Y/n) tilted her head back so she could look up at her husband a bit better.

He looked a little sceptical, like he preferred to sit and stare rather than reach across and somehow ruin this moment that they had. But Geta found the will to carefully untangle his arms from around (Y/n) so he could take their son from her.

He knew. Geta knew instantly that it was going to be hard for either of them to want to put him down or let anyone else look after him. He was serene. His cries had already ceased and he was calm and content, curling and wriggling to get comfy in Geta's strong arms.

And Geta was sure he could see a few pale strands of golden hair dotted across his son's head. A true heir, taking after him and Caracalla.

When Geta took the throne, he never imagined his life would end up this way. He had seen the turbulence in Rome when he and his brother became Emperors. He had seen the mess they had to clear up, the constant trifles they had to sort through and how the people only seemed pleased when they took on more countries in the name of Rome and when tiresome problems were seen to by the Emperors themselves.

It left them both tired and busy, as if Geta didn't have enough to do without keeping constant watch over his twin to ensure his safety and make sure he didn't do anything out of the ordinary, with his disease growing stronger each day.

Meeting (Y/n) felt like a gift from the Gods, like they had seen what Geta was lacking and made sure he had someone there by his side to help him. To love him and take care of him and show him that he could have this sense of happiness too.

"He's perfect. You're both perfect, my almighty Empress."

He had a feeling that neither of them would be too happy once their boy was taken to his own room in a little while. It wasn't going to feel right for him to be in his own chambers with a maid and a wet nurse to see to all his needs. But at least his room was only down the corridor, he wasn't going to be far away from them at all.

Geta looked between them both before he leaned forward to press a searing kiss against (Y/n)'s wet lips. He loved the feeling of her hand on the centre of his chest right near their son, as if she were trying to feel for his rapid heartbeat. And he loved how she leant into him and how her other hand squeezed his bicep when their temples pressed together and their eyes met.

The amount of love circulating through Geta's body right now had to be lethal. It didn't seem real that he could have so much love for these two people he was holding close to his chest. But when he felt (Y/n)'s lips pecking the corner of his mouth, his lips curved up into a wide grin.

They were his everything.

[laylainalaska]

Watched 8x03 "Guerrilla My Dreams" with @sheronwrites , and have not stopped speculating since then on when in the episode, exactly, the three-way roommate collusion started happening.

Charles is definitely in cahoots with the other two by the chess game at the end. I love how BJ obliquely tells Charles that they need him to stall for time without tipping off Park.

Park: Doc, how is our patient? BJ: Oh, not well at all. These things take time, you know.

Charles flicks a little glance at BJ when he says that - it happens so fast that I couldn't manage to get a cap of it - and it's shortly after this that he starts trying to disrupt Park's playing to slow the game down. He knows perfectly well what Hawkeye and BJ are up to; you can even see him try to grab Park when Park jumps up from the table, although he misses.

Anyway, so he's fully on board with the Plan by this point and knows what his part in it is supposed to be, but I would love to know when they came up with this and how much of it was collaborative from the beginning.

(Further caps and speculation under the cut.)

I feel like there's a good chance the chess conversation earlier in the episode, when they find out that Park plays chess and Charles offers to play it with him, was spontaneous. Actually it's kind of hard to tell how much of what Charles is doing there Hawkeye is aware of at first. When Park mentions chess, you can see Charles immediately become interested; in fact they all do.

Hawkeye flicks a glance over his shoulder ...

... And Charles immediately, conspicuously looks away and doesn't look back until Hawkeye's attention is elsewhere.

It's right after that that he moves around Hawkeye - love his little touch to Hawkeye's arm, which is impossible to screencap properly because he's behind him at the time ...

And takes Park aside and tells him that it's nice to find someone else around here who likes chess and might make a worthy opponent.

What I'm not sure about is if they had talked about it at all beforehand - if they already had a sort of plan, just need a distraction, and Hawkeye's quick glance at Charles is a sort of signal that this is the opening they need - or if Charles did this spontaneously on his own because he recognized that this was a way to subtly get Park out of the way so that Hawkeye can do whatever he wants.

I think it's at least possible at this point that BJ, at least, thinks Charles is serious about wanting to spend time with the guy.

Hawkeye, though, keeps looking back and forth between them - at BJ and then at Charles - and this of course is when Charles signals his true intentions here.

A distraction!

I like how Hawkeye stares at him for a minute and then tosses a speculative glance at BJ.

They definitely all three talked about it at some point after this but before the chess game - they had to, because Charles is clearly aware of the timing of what Hawkeye and BJ are doing in post-op.

But I'm really curious if this was Charles's idea initially - that he could use this as a distraction to give Hawkeye a chance to do whatever Hawkeye is going to do - or if Hawkeye cued him.

I would also love to know if Charles volunteered his cognac as part of the distraction or if they stole it! tbh I could go about 50-50 either way, leaning probably towards Charles knowing about it beforehand (probably at least SLIGHTLY under duress, but we already know that he has exactly 0 defenses against Hawkeye asking him for things).

Which is really his entire reason for being involved at all. He has no particular investment in the situation himself, but Hawkeye really wants this patient away from Park, and Charles knows that. It's not about the principle of the thing for him, it's just about helping Hawkeye.

(Forever mildly annoyed that the show is so subtle about it, because you have to pay close attention to realize that Charles is helping them and not amusing himself with Park at Hawkeye and his patient's expense.)

[hotdogmchiggin]

Aw shit they put the horrors of late stage capitalism into my Pokémon Mystery Dungeon 😔

(Mostly) Based on the mouthwashing dev QnA about each character’s favorite Pokémon. Couldn’t get the idea of throwing them into PMD out of my head.

Typical job at the Poke Express Guild:

Some more bonus drawings below

Jimmy secretly wishes he was a mega rayquaza but he’s just a poser who’s obsessed with pikachu’s popularity and position as the mascot. So. A mimikyu.

Daisuke is a zorua because it’s the closest to weregarurumon and I think it matches his vibes. Just a guy who causes a little bit o mischief here n there :)

I did make Daisukes weregarurumon wishes come true (No mega rayquaza for jim)

I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with the background so I threw them into the dungeon. WOE upon ye

[not-so-myconid-witch]

can do, op!

ENTIRE (known) HISTORY OF EVERYTHING IN REALITY IS NOT ALONE, GO!

pre-reality

so, this place called the hallway exists. Nobody knows where it came from, if it even came from anywhere, or whatever, but it currently contains things called minai|strictata particles, and they are extremely powerful.

After some time, they start bundling together to form beings who call themselves the malaie (singular: mal) (or well that's at least how they've chosen to be referred to by non-mal beings, bc their true name along with any words of their language either can at most only be somewhat comprehended by other beings)

The malaie are even more powerful than the aforementioned particles due to, well, being made up of a fuckton of them.

after a lot of time, they decide to create more planes of existence and places like the hallway besides the one they were formed in (the plane of existence the malaie were formed in is called semifiction), purely for shits and giggles.

construction of reality

First they try to make what they call a „universe“. They‘re making this universe because they wanna see how different civilizations that all arose on different planets but at the exact same time would be in terms of culture, scientific development, etc etc.

They kinda fuck up with the first of their many, many attempts. The universes they made all ended up becoming unstable and inhospitable. These universes were just thrown away (this is important later).

3rd universe

The 3rd universe actually didn‘t really fail at first. It was still unstable, but these „beings of reality“ the malaie were trying to create could be able to survive in it.

One problem tho. It‘s gone.

One „day“ they just check back up on it and see it‘s gone.

ni

Turns out, the 3rd universe gained sentience.

After the malaie explained to it what was going on n stuff, it decided to help the malaie not suck at creating universes

She also later starts going by she/her pronouns and the name ni (at least for non-mal beings).

And so the stable universe was born.

One problem, it has glitches. Like a lot of them. The malaie were completely fed up with working on reality tho so they didn‘t bother to fix it since the glitches weren‘t anything too bad.

PATCH

ni also made a machine to make sure time in the universe flows correctly. time is actually just the product of the universe being slowly rotated by this (sentient) machine who calls itself PATCH.

it's basically just a giant ring that goes around the entire universe which slowly rotates it with four gears with the usage of large dents in the universe made specifically for these gears to sorta go into.

ni made PATCH sentient in case any beings of reality that knew of it needed it to rewind or speed up time for something important. however, if the thing you want it to rewind or speed up time for isn't something that's important for the entire universe (like for example if a threat to the entire universe is present) then don't even bother asking.

post reality

creation of fiction

So, reality was now finished. What‘s next? Fiction is what‘s next.

The malaie wanted to see what kinda fictious works the beings of reality would come up with/if they would even come up with any in the first place, so they created the fictionverse to safely store it all!

Thankfully they actually knew how to do stuff like this now so this one didn‘t even fail once.

strings

The malaie decided it‘d probably be a good idea to have all the fictious beings held together by something, since unlike beings of reality they'd have to exist forever.

And so, they created strings. Lots of them.

the currently known types of strings are as follows:

red strings: make sure the story goes as it was written/control events.

blue strings: hold together objects.

orange strings: hold together fictious characters/beings.

black strings: hold together semifictious beings and objects.

H strings: stop beings of reality from entering non-reality planes by taking up every possible space in every plane of existence below reality. things that didn't originate from reality can pass through them, but anything that did cannot. (they're named after the first letter of the name who discovered these strings instead of a color bc they're perfectly transparent and also bc the person who discovered them (an oc of mine by the name of hana) thought it was funny.)

narrators and half narrators

After the civilizations in the universe started appearing, something else also appeared.

Through a combination of SEVERAL „existence glitches“, as they‘re called, mental aspects of beings of reality just began appearing as manifestations in the fictionverse and the hallway.

These beings started calling themselves narrators and half narrators, narrators being manifestations of larger parts and half narrators being manifestations of smaller parts. These beings were capable of something REALLY strange.

They were able to control and even alter strings. (except for H strings. they can't be controlled in any way whatsoever.)

narrators can control at most 2 types of strings with relative ease, and half narrators can control a few more types than narrators but get extremely exhausted from it.

There‘s also a condition called eminianity that affects some narrators which allows them to control all types of strings but in exchange they are easily overwhelmed by it (unless they use a specific kind of tool to sorta separate themselves from the string they're controlling) and are also more susceptible to being traumatized or being hurt in any other psychological way.

post fiction

ultrafiction

At the center of the fictionverse, the malaie built an artificial superintelligence, who allows himself to be called meggy by non-malaie beings.

He was originally there to make sure the fictionverse wasn‘t destroyed somehow or something, but when he was bored (which he often was bc there aren't really many people trying to destroy the fictionverse), he often secretly worked on something else.

This project of his was ultrafiction, the fourth plane of existence.

The malaie at some point found out about this, which meggy was initially scared by cuz he was scared they‘d be mad, but no they actually applauded him.

And so ultrafiction was created, and fictious narrators were also able to create ultrafiction.

psychoreality

something strange happened with the discarded, failed universes.

They started forming a weird weave that went throughout all three planes of existence (i say three bc ultrafiction didn‘t exist yet).

The malaie started investigating this as soon as some narrators pointed this out to them, and apparently the beings of reality‘s psyches all somehow managed to turn these discarded universe into a pseudo-plane of existence which an organization called the SAR (more information on them later) called psychoreality.

It apparently contains universes similar to those in the fictionverse, except they‘re the psyches of beings of reality that have been converted into physical places. somehow.

the semifictional authorities

the SAO

the SAO, which stands for Semifictional Authority of Order, arose some time after the first narrators began appearing.

It focuses on making sure nobody tries to fuck anything major up in the hallway.

Or well that‘s what it claims to do. In actuality it is an EXTREMELY corrupt organization, led by a malaie who is mad butthurt about being rejected by every being ever for being an absolute asshole. (wow i said being in that sentence a lot)

That malaie, who i’ll refer to as zelli (bc that‘s the nickname narrators have given her), was a bit of a prankster much like the rest of the malaie, but she completely overdid it every time and never listened when anybody tried to tell her to stop no matter how they tried to approach her.

The malaie had enough of her fuckery when she reset existence just for shits and giggles that one time.

They thankfully had a backup spell in the case of such an event that changed existence back to whatever it was like before a reset (except for the malaie and any beings like them), and then proceeded to strip her of all powers.

The SAO just so happened to be created immediately after this incident. Im sure that‘s just a coincidence :)

the SAR

That stands for Semifictional Authority of Research.

Unlike the SAO, the SAR isn‘t corrupt. Its image was just kinda tainted after the incident. (Aka the SAR realizing the malaie were fucking with them nigh every time they told them about any part of existence, meaning they had to delete about 70% of their archive due to it all being bullshit.)

It actually began existing way before the SAO, in fact it even started back in the pre-reality era of existence!

Back then it was still led by malaie, but ever since the malaie started being more passive rather than active it‘s all narrators and half narrators.

There‘s five head researchers in the SAR:

hana, the head researcher of strings. (she/her) (pronounced: haah-naah)

Eminqua, the head researcher of (mostly pre-reality) history. (She/they) (pronounced: em-min-sha)

Ci, the head researcher of the universe‘s civilizations. (He/him, xe/xim) (pronounced like "die")

heln, the head researcher of null beings (and later on quasizeroes (who are canonically currently still undiscovered)) (They/them) (pronounced like "helm")

elelakk, the head researcher of the hallway. (no pronouns) (pronounced: eh-leh-laahk)

(praying to the malaie those pronounciation guides are actually understandable rn)

Head researchers are basically the most high-ranking people in the SAR and have the most authority.

misc.

core strings

core strings are orange (or black, in the case of semifictious beings) strings that define and hold together core parts of the character and also hold together all the other strings, similar to how you'd use some kind of band to hold together a ponytail.

they are nigh indestructible, although in some situations they can be broken. it is currently not quite known what these situations are as it has only happened a couple of times, and the result of that is something referred to as a null being.

null beings

a null being is, as stated previously, the result of the destruction of a being's core strings. when this happens, all the other strings of the being fall apart as well, stripping the being of their personality, their memories, etc.

some null beings have very short periods of time where they, for some reason, regain their personality.

quasizeroes

quasizeroes are a (currently undiscovered) subset of null beings that somehow reattained their core strings, but not their normal strings. even after they're eventually discovered, the way their core strings hold together still remains a mystery.

enigmatic beings

enigmatic beings are beings that do not possess strings, but do not turn into a null being due to beings of reality being able to ignore laws most non-reality beings have to abide by.

so they're basically the product of beings of reality saying "nuh uh" to existence itself.

the barrier

the barrier is a term that refers to the inability of beings of reality to directly interact with beings hailing from planes of existence below theirs.

black holes and stars

stars contain portals connecting semifiction and fiction to reality for some reason. nobody knows why, the mal that did that "died" a long time ago so they can't really ask anybody (died is in quotation marks bc it's a bit of an inaccurate term. really, almost any english words are a bit inaccurate when referring to malaie.)

the portals can't be entered by most beings for some reason though. only objects and, more importantly, null beings can.

why are null beings so important in this case? bc they're the source (or well more accurately, one of the sources) of black holes, that's why. you see, null beings kinda break reality. it is currently assumed this is caused by them being basically a blank space in existence. they simultaneously exist and don't exist. fiction and semifiction can handle this, but reality for some reason can't. and so, reality begins to crumble around the null being if it enters a star, which also causes the star to explode.

black holes are how the universe contains threats like these. they don't always suck up and consume stuff btw. they only need to do that if the threat inside of them is extremely powerful, bc they require a lot of energy to contain those and then have to resort to converting things around them into energy.

"if you want to hear about my ocs, my inbox is ope-" NO!! START YAPPING UNPROMPTED!! DO NOT WAIT FOR OTHERS TO TAKE INTEREST, POST THINGS THAT WILL MAKE THEM TAKE INTEREST!!!!

[r0semultiverse]

Small indie artists in need of support for moving out by September!

💜 These lovely folks [@QuinsCurse (they/them) & @sswitchblade03 (xe/xem and he/him)] are part of a small queer-owned Youtube community I'm in. 💖

💖 If you could lend a helping hand by reblogging & queueing this post up until the start of September, I'd greatly appreciate it & I'm sure these fine folks would too! 💜

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"Hi everyone! Requests are officially closed as I am opening emergency commissions! Please consider supporting me as we are getting kicked out and have managed to find a place that’s affordable but need to save up 5k by the end of the month! Anything helps! I also have a dontations page if you are willing to help do that! All the money received from commissions will be going to the deposit! https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/commissions https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/goal?g=32"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/commissions https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/goal?g=0 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!! My roommate ‪@QuinsCurse‬and I are needing about $5000CAD for a down payment on a new place as we need to be out of our current place by September! Every bit counts! My goal is to be set to $3000CAD. I will draw anything (coloured and rendered) for $5 CAD each! If you are willing to give more it will be appreciated. Examples of my work below!"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

[hyakunana]

Interrupting all my chores for a very important event

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know the thing about writing feral/unhinged versions of Orion/Optimus, is that you can't go too far into the feral/unhinged direction to a point where OP's core character traits are lost or become too diminished. After all, in a multiple-continuity franchise like TF, part of what makes the stories make sense is that even if details change (sometimes major details), the characters are still recognizably themselves to one degree or another. (Although this isn't always the case due to executive meddling or some characters being such blank slates from their initial G1 appearances that there's basically nothing to model them off of, but I digress.)

It's pretty much another reason why I love IDW1 Optimus, bc he literally is a canonical feral/unhinged Optimus who's unhinged as a direct consequence of who he is as a person and what he's been through. Like, he still has those fundamental character traits of trying his best to be moral and make good choices, trying to be a role model, etc, except after 4 million years of war and untreated depression he's basically holding onto his sense of self by his fingertips. So when he "goes feral" e.g. losing his temper and beating up/killing people or saying hurtful things, he's feral in a way that's directly tied to his normal personality and not just as a random quirk he has.

IDW OP's feral moments arise from the gaps between "Optimus' attempts to be who he thinks he needs to be" and "the reality of the world that he can't fix/seems to only make worse" that cause him to lose hope, or become cynical, or lose his temper. But in this case, the unhinged-ness makes perfect sense because it arises out of Optimus trying and failing to be the best person or to make the most morally good choices he's trying to make. Basically, the "feral/unhinged" label is just another way of me trying to say that he's not just unhinged because he's weird or because he's a bad person, but because it's an emotional reaction (more like an emotional explosion due to pent-up emotions) to the context he exists in.

I'd also say that IDW OP's personality being generally reserved/stoic and (trying to be) noble works in tandem with those moments he has of going feral because it makes him more realistic. His psyche is treated in a way where the writers are like, "Hey what if the pressure of having to be everyone's idol and be the best person in the galaxy at all times actually broke Optimus down mentally and emotionally?" It makes IDW OP far more relatable. Instead of naturally being a perfect Christ-like figure who never wavers in his morals or convictions and is just naturally a nice person who always has the wisest and best answer, being a good person is something that IDW OP has to consciously strive to be. Even when he feels like it's useless, or the cycle of violence will never stop, or any attempts he makes to help only ends up with things becoming worse.

And I feel like this does a service not only to IDW Optimus as a character, but also as a sort of moral/philosophical perspective for the reader to ponder upon? I feel like culture at large (or at least my experience of it) tends to believe that "goodness" in a person is simply an innate feature that people are born/not born with, and that being "good" means that you must be good at all times, both in your actions as well as the way you feel emotionally about yourself and the world. Like, there's a tendency for our vision of "a good person" to be good in every aspect at all times without having to try to be a good person. So I think IDW Optimus' character stands as a good example of how someone can be good at heart but still struggle to maintain those feelings of optimism and hope and justice. It's a good idea to have such a paragon of a character (in-universe and out-of-universe) be so conflicted and to even be mistaken, misguided, or make things worse because it shows that goodness is as much about "trying to behave/act in a way that is good" and not just "existing as an innately good person."

It's way more realistic for a person to want to be good, try to be good, and sometimes/often fail than it is for them to just be a good person. I enjoy the fact that IDW Optimus is both a good person at heart, but also has to strive to be a good person and live up to other people's expectations of what they see in him. I like how he wants to be a good person and change society for the better, but he also spends a good amount of time either feeling hopeless and alone or being angry at/detached from other people because of how frustrated they make him. He's realistically portrayed as someone who wants to be good and hopeful and change things for the better, but is also mentally and emotionally broken by that burden because of how impossible it is for him to Fix Everything and be the Perfect Prime/Leader/Autobot that people see him as. It's this fascinating mixture of "yes, this is who he is as a person" but also "there are things he desires to be that he could never possibly become or live up to."

This got really far off based from feral/unhinged Optimus sdklfjaslkdlfkas. The TLDR is that if people want unhinged OP, I feel like they should give IDW OP a chance because he IS unhinged but he's unhinged in a way that's a realistic/thematic representation of how being an Absolute Good is impossible. And how being a good person isn't just about Existing And You Are A Good Person, but rather goodness is a constant state of flux in which you adjust, you make mistakes, you lose your temper and feel hopeless, but then you pick yourself up and try again.

Also IDW OP really likes climbing in dangerous wilderness and jumping out of flying vehicles which I think is very feral and sexy of him to do.

[novorehere]

Bite-Sized Tidbits:

A snapshot/character of what life might look like with the seven avatars of sin. Contains a lot of fluff, a little angst, and soft/safe vore with you and the seven Obey Me! brothers themed around their respective sins. I’ve been working on this on and off for quite a while now, so I hope you enjoy.

Written for Vore Day, 2023

—

—

Pride

“I can give you your punishment now, or we can wait until later.”

The edges of the demon’s lips crept up into the beginnings of a smirk. All without breaking his gaze from the stack of documents which he straightened against his desk with a tap tap tap.

“However, I will be leaving for tea with Lord Diavolo as soon as my work is finished. So unless you’d like to spend the evening with Barbatos’ chiffon cake, I’d recommend making up your mind in a timely manner.”

Both of you knew very well that “punishment” wasn’t the right word. Lucifer’s infrequent office calls were less of a punishment and moreso a game, an unspoken routine in which you continuously tested the Avatar of Pride’s patience by indulging his younger brothers’ schemes.

It was a game that toyed with the balance of power, one where you pretended like he couldn’t just shrink you down whenever he wanted and that you couldn’t order him to stop with a single word. It was a game that indulged his pride, one that Lucifer would always win in the end.

It was only a matter of minutes before you were seated in his gloved palm. His ruby eyes lording over you with a gaze that anyone else would find annoyingly high-handed. But after playing his game for so long, to you the affection hiding behind them was obvious.

“Are you ready then, my Lamb?”

He was the morning star, eldest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

Yet despite all of this, Lucifer knew it was you who had him utterly wrapped around your little finger.

—

Greed

Reclining his head against the arm of his couch, the Avatar of Greed kissed his fingertips in mock satisfaction at the burp that rolled up his throat. A barely audible complaint of “gross” only caused him to chuckle and pat his stomach triumphantly.

“Maybe ya shoulda thought about that before bein’ so damn filling.”

A sound like “Guh” escaped the demon’s mouth as a swift kick to his liver interrupted his musings.

“Oi! The Great Mammon’s gonna start chargin’ 10,000 Grimm for damages every time ya do that!” Ya oughta learn some basic respe-”

And there it was, the familiar flutter of tiny fingers rubbing circles into him from inside. Perhaps it was your way of saying sorry… though more likely you just wanted to shut him up. It was annoying how easily you could reduce him to a blushing mess without uttering a single word.

“Hey… ‘s not fair. You’re playin’ dirty…”

Mammon rolled onto his side in an uncharacteristically gentle motion. He couldn’t help sneaking an indulgent glance at the scene reflected in his mirror. There he was, splayed out amongst piles of his belongings with his shirt ridden up and his belly rounded in his lap. If any of his brothers saw him like this, he would never hear the end of their teasing. But luckily for Mammon, not even you could know the way his face became soft as he teased a finger around his navel too gently for you to feel.

“Why’d ya stop? C’mon, now… keep goin’.”

It didn’t matter how much Mammon gambled away or how many centuries it had been since he’d hit the jackpot at the casino. When he was with you, Mammon felt like the luckiest demon in the three realms.

But sometimes it was hard to put it into words. Which is exactly why he treasured moments like these, the moments where his greed got the better of him. The moments where he could steal you away to be his and his alone.

After all, it was much easier to express how madly in love with you he’d become when he didn’t have to meet you face to face.

—

Envy

“You know, this is just like that one scene in ‘My Life as a Shut-In Reincarnated as a Worker in the Shopping Mall Dimension’ where Prince Alfonso goes to the food court kingdom and-”

Leviathan groaned, burying his face into his body pillow as if that could somehow hide him from the voice in his middle.

“You can’t use my own otaku tactics against me, it’s… *hic-* it’s not fair!!”

Your muffled laughter reverberated off the walls of his bathtub, accompanied by the occasional hiccup and the tip of a serpentine tail nervously thumping against porcelain.

He didn’t mean for his horns to sprout from his head when you tried to leave his room that night. He didn’t mean for a serpentine tail to wrap around your ankle, wordlessly begging you to stay. And he certainly didn’t mean for his stomach to loudly vocalize the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind the entire night. What was this, some sort of tropey romance manga?

But here he was, face as red as a bouquet of queen of jealousy and stuffed to the (decidedly metaphorical) gills in his own bathtub. The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, reduced to a blushing, hiccuping mess. And he had nobody but himself to blame.

But really, how could he have resisted? Especially with the visions of what could have happened instead playing through his head on repeat. Asmo whisking you away to some club filled with normies who could actually hold a real conversation, Mammon snatching you up for an unauthorized night drive in his Demonio 666 Lexura, Beel getting a little too peckish and… he couldn’t bear to think about it.

Leviathan knew wanting to be your one and only was unreasonable. He knew that he was a terrible, horrible friend for thinking these thoughts and becoming so troubled at the prospect of anyone else showing you affection. After all, no one would want to be with a gloomy shut-in that wasn’t worth the scum in Henry’s tank-

But as soon as they had come, the negative thoughts washed away like a speck in the ocean as you snuggled closer to his hand, a muffled voice reassuring him that there was no place you’d rather be tonight.

—

Wrath

“With a flourish the detective tipped his hat to the dame, as he disappeared into the evening fog like the curls of smoke which danced from his pipe…”

The demon’s inner monologue was cut short as a violent squirming sensation roused him from his novel. Your ears detected the unmistakable sound of a huff and a book closing, muffled by layers of flesh and fabric.

“Restless as ever, I see…”

Normally, Satan would be more than offended to have his attention ripped from the pages of a good book. But this time the annoyance that swelled in his chest turned not into rage, but affection as the fire settled in his stomach and melted away… You tended to have that effect on him.

It was a relatively new sensation. Having been birthed from wrath in its purest form, emotions such as happiness had to be taught to him by his brothers. And for that Satan was thankful- he had long since accepted them as family. But as a human, you were a better teacher of peace than any demon could be. Though a cat curled in his lap was a close second.

The blonde sighed fondly, gazing down at the bump in his sweater.

“…Would you like me to read aloud to you? Perhaps that will help you settle some.”

Pulling the covers up a bit higher around his navel, he tucked them in snugly around his sides. A rare smile crossed Satan’s face as he admired his handiwork. The man reached over to his nightstand, finding there exactly what he was looking for in the dim light. A paperback atop the haphazard piles of hardcovers strewn about, placed there with care as not to crease the art on the cover he knew you loved so much.

With both of you tucked in for the night, it was easier than ever to melt into the gentle rumble of his voice.

“Our story begins in a world of monsters…”

—

Lust:

Asmodeus knows that true beauty comes from within. How could it not, when the skin of the human that emerges from his lips always feels so much softer and smoother than before? He makes sure to bring it to your attention every time, doting over how the glow of his inner beauty rubs off on you so easily. Despite everything, he thinks you look so gorgeous lying in his palm. Layers of mucus, tired bags under your eyes, and all.

But sometimes it’s hard to feel beautiful inside or out with wings dyed black and pointed horns replacing the light of your halo.

—

A delicate, painted fingertip wipes a stray bead of drool from your face. The other hand is busy at your head, gently combing the tangles from your still-damp hair with the tiniest heart-shaped hairbrush. Asmodeus had been ecstatic the day it arrived, practically bowling over Levi before snatching the Akuzon package from his arms with a squeal.

It was a ritual at this point, the way he pampered you after letting you out. Swaddling you in a soft, lilac-scented hand towel warmed by the gentle breeze of his hairdryer, wiping you clean as he hummed a familiar tune.

“Baby, you want my love


No matter who you are


I want you to show me


I fell in love with someone


Besides myself for the first time”

He didn’t need to be the “Jewel of the Heavens” with you as his jewel, a precious pearl to tuck away beside his heart where all the things he loves live.

And he had so, so much love to give.

—

Gluttony

Beelzebub was on the verge of snapping when you came to him.

He was breathing heavily when you found his monstrous, horned silhouette hunched over the empty refrigerator. Frightened eyes were glazed over with a hunger that threatened to swallow you up with their very gaze. His mouth opened in a silent plea- perhaps an apology for eating your favorite pudding- but it was drowned out by the roar of his stomach.

Sometimes it felt as if no amount of food could put out the fire that raged within him. The burning sensation could only be briefly dulled by each cooling mouthful that slid down his throat. But then it was gone, claimed by the emptiness inside him that demanded “more.”

But you… you were different.

Simply being around you made him feel full, and for that he was ever grateful. But sometimes he needed more than a feeling. He needed to be sure you were there, to know that you were alive. To feel the weight of that missing piece that left him the day that he fell, your warmth reassuring him that his choices were the right one.

But despite what he needed, he still required your explicit permission to take it.

“Can I…?”

“Of course.”

With your words, Beelzebub gave himself over to his gluttony. He didn’t mind the demon he had become, as long as his strength could help protect you. Or perhaps you were the one protecting him? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for certain.

No demon in hell could devour you as lovingly as he did that night.

—

Sloth

Beneath the attic room comforter, an incoherent mumble could be heard from a demon-sized lump in the sheets.

Belphegor rolled onto his stomach as he nestled deeper into his nest of blankets. It didn’t take long at all for a lazy smile to crawl across the Avatar of Sloth’s face. Even though you were undoubtedly squashed in this position, he could still feel your tiny hands working their magic just like he had asked.

Oh, how you spoiled him rotten.

It was hard not to with the way Belphegor expressed his desires so plainly. To borrow your jacket to use as a pillow, to keep quiet to Lucifer about skipping classes, to stroke his hair while he lay on your lap. The others weren’t too thrilled with your coddling, but Belphie couldn’t care less.

After all, they had gotten so much more time with you than he had. They got to know you, to love you, to taste you… all before you even knew his name.

Belphegor was the Avatar of Sloth, not envy. But there was once a time when the unmistakable tingling warmth of his twin indulging in you left the bitter aftertaste of jealousy on his tongue. It was a strange feeling, his brother’s affection for a human. One that, until recently, he couldn’t quite understand. And at the time, he had no desire to.

Nowadays the sensation was far from unwelcome. But ever since that night at the castle when he gifted you his pact, Belphegor had found that he much preferred having you all to himself in person. All to himself…

A small yawn escaped the youngest’s mouth as mind wandered to his twin. Could he feel it too, he wondered? The phantom weight of your touch?

…Perhaps he’d ask Beel about it later. But for now, he had a very important nap to get to.

—

Neither of you were conscious enough to know it, but that night as Beelzebub carried his brother down to his own bed and tucked him in, he whispered not one, but two good-nights.

[leatherbookmark]

screaming the OP of the prev has this in their pinned post

ONE OF THOSE THINGS IS ETC ETC

[legalandnotease]

OK, you got me started.

Maybe you didn't know that. Maybe you honestly had no idea that you were saying something that is a direct attack against people who have gone through the exact mental illnesses Tony had and recognize his struggles as their own.

I have PTSD and depression and let me tell you something straight from the start.

Tony Stark does not represent me or anybody like me. Lose this ridiculous idea that Tony Stark has PTSD. He doesn't. He displays zero symptoms of PTSD.

He has anxiety at best, and is probably a narcissist. Yes, his actions and behaviour are very consistent with Covert Narcissism.

His "fear of loss" is the fear of abandonment, of no longer being able to control those around him.

His "my way or the highway" mentality, his inability to listen to or trust others, his paranoia and inability to accept responsibility.

All are massively consistent with narcissism.

...and before the Tony fans shriek, guess what the main cause of narcissism is? Childhood neglect. QUELLE SURPRISE! That said... His daddy being nasty to him does not absolve him being outright abusive to others. That is the excuse real life abusers use btw.

Whatever he has though: let us stop right now blaming mental health for Tony Stark's shitty actions. The idea that "trauma" absolves him is a harmful and dangerous idea which perpetuates negative stereotypes about mental health.

The sheer amount destructive and harmful things Tony does which cause mass death is what prevents him from being "representation" for mental health.

If Tony was anybody else... nobody would be saying he should not take responsibility for things which actively hurt and killed others because *muh trauma*.

Name a time when Tony was in a safe place to heal. I'll wait.

Every time he retired. He retires MULTIPLE times in between moves. Between Iron Man II and Avengers?

2 years.

Between Avengers and Age of Ultron

3 years.

Between AoU and Civil War

1 year

Between CW and IW

2 years

Between CW and Endgame

5 years.

That is a total of 13 years. Tony had 13 years of relative peace and quiet in which to get some self care and healing.

Compare that to Bucky who is confirmed as having PTSD and gets the sum total of 2 years to recover from 70 years of torture abuse, brain damage, trauma guilt and self-hatred. With NO support network. Unlike Tony, who had various people to support him. And Bucky has to contend with a fuckton of victim-blaming that Tony never did.

You literally just ignored the first part of OP's post, in which they noted that people constantly ignore Wanda's and Bruce's parts in Ultron.

These are excuses designed to absolve Tony of his responsibility for Ultron. Wanda did not mind control him: she gave him a vision.A vision he did not have to act opon. He chose to.

Tony was acting of his own free will and with his own agency the entire time. So was Bruce. This is why people blame Tony.

Unlike say,,,, hmmm I dunno Bucky who was literally mind controlled and had the very capacity for free choice and agency taken away from him, who was literally forced and tortured into doing things.... Tony was making a choice

(But isn't it WEIRD how people- usually Tony Fans) still insist on blaming an actual mind control and torture victim for his actions on the ground that "his body did it" - whilst trying to absolve the guy who was not mind controlled and had full bodily autonomy because "muh good intentions" and "muh trauma"

Yes, that's called victim-blaming.

You ignored how OP pointed out that the illegal arms dealing was Stane's actions, not Tony's, and that Tony shut it down as soon as he learned of it, saying "there are lines we don't cross.

Except... that's not what happened. Tony ran the company for 17 years as an adult. In all that time you're telling me he didn't notice his own stock going missing? He didn't notice the protests against his weapons being used on civilians in places like Sokovia?

The fact that it was only when he realized they were being used on *American soldiers* that he considered the line to have been crossed speaks volumes about Tony.

If he took drugs that were stopping him from doing his job as a CEO that is on him, not anybody else. Just like if somebody took drugs and decided to drive a car, you would not blame the car or the drugs.

Would Wanda not have attacked Tony's mind, then?

Since Tony was alreasdy planning to build Ultron even before he met Wanda, this bascailly makes no difference, but carry on.

Would Nick Fury and Black Widow have suddenly left him alone? Would he not have been dying from palladium poisoning?

How are Nick Fury and Natasha responsible for the stupid and reckless things Tony did when he thought he was dying. Did they make him do them? No. Thought not.

Would he have been able to suddenly change the route his company was taking without his friends turning their backs on him (which they did at first) and Stane trying to kill him?

Actually, yes. He's was the CEO, for goodness sake. He was also a grown-ass 38-year-old man, not a little kid.

You know he could in that capacity just fire Stane right? Right? As soon as he had evidence for his activities he could fire him on the spot? That's what CEOs can do? He could fire the whole Board of Directors if he wanted to.

But even if! Even if he went to therapy! Do you think therapy is a magical cure-all? Do you think people who go to therapy for PTSD suddenly don't have panic attacks anymore? That they don't get triggered, or fall back into their personal hells, or have days where they regress to who they'd been before therapy because healing isn't a straight line?

OK. Let;s talk about PTSD triggers.

People who are triggered may go into "fight or flight" mode. They may freeze. They may lash out. They may start having flashbacks. They may become depressed. They may become withdrawn.

What they do not do is take a highly dangerous object and use it to build abother hightly dangerous object despite warnings that it might be dangerous.

What they do not do is attack helpless unarmed people for 10 minutes with multiple weapons, pinning them against walls and attempting to blow their heads off.

What they do not do is ignore clear evidence for **years** of theft in their company, and ignore evidece their stock is falling into the wrong hands.

Nothing *repeat* NOTHING Tony does in the movies can be put down to him just being triggered. Blaming PTSD for Tony's violent and deliberately reckless actions is vile.

Honestly, shame on you for talking about therapy as if it's the cure-all for the world, as if every single problem life throws at people becomes butterflies and rainbows the instant a person talks to a professional about it all. As if Tony was The Main Problem of the MCU, and his capital sin was in not booking an appointment with a psychologist.

No, SHAME ON YOU.

People already think mental illness is an excuse for bad behaviour and Tony Stans are making this far worse with using conditions like mine as an excuse for everything Tony does.

Whether it be sexually harassing women

Building a murderbot

grooming and blackmailing a teenager,

or trying to murder an abuse victim in cold blood because he was upset about his disgusting daddy being killed.

How many people here, in real life, have mocked and derided Tony Stark as a character because he's a cis straight rich white man?

Let me tell you this right now.

Nobody would make excuses for Tony's actions the way they do if he was not a rich white male.

Just like in real life Tony can get away with things that anybody else would be thrown in jail for because he has money and connections.

Do you really think that poor people can get away with murder like Tony on the ground of abuse or trauma? No. They can't. They also can't get support or therapy. THEY will be persecuted and prosecuted, even for things they were driven to by desperation.

I am going to compare him to Bucky Barnes, fandom's favourite punchbag again because it illustrates this well.

One is working- class from a poor immigrant background who never had the power to say "no" or refuse to do what the high-ups told him. He was conscripted into into the army: if he refused to join up he'd have been imprisoned or worse.

He gets captured, experimented on, tortured, mutilated it, has his "brain put into a blender" and is forced to kill against his will?

What is the reaction? "He's still to blame. He chose to join up, he chose to go on that mission.... he could have escaped, he could have said no...."

Or "his body did it" as is the favourite excuse of Tony fans who want to entirely ignore the fact he had no control, autonomy or choice.

The other is a rich, priveleged guy with inherited money who had the best of everything. He is fully able to tell the government to go screw themselves, to refuse to do what he is told, and to buy his way out of any trouble he might get into.

He *chooses* to to drug himself into oblivion and drink himself silly when there are other options available. He chooses to do reckless things. He chooses to ignore the problems in his company. He chooses to go along with it because alternative is too hard.

He chooses to break multiple laws because his girlfriend is kidnapped. He chooses to mess with a highly dangerous supernatural artefact because he fears loss. He chooses to ignore advice, and people die. Over and over and over again because of his reckless actions and bad choices.

The reaction? "Its not his fault, he was manipulated" "its not his fault, he meant well!" "its not his fault, he's just trying to protect the people he loved"/

Its not about shaming: it is just a simple fact that rich white people can and do get away with the most henious things imaginable because of who they are. If Tony was poor like Bucky or black or Asian he would not be able to.

everyone always focuses on Sokovia and Ultron and Tony's involvement but no one ever thinks about how Bruce was also involved completely because they're both scientists. no one thinks about Wanda purposefully going in and digging in Tony's head, amplifying his PTSD and putting visions of all his friends dead in his head with the intent of making Tony create Ultron

Everyone always focuses on blaming Tony for the bomb that killed Wanda's parents but no one thinks about Tony being so shit faced he couldn't see straight at that time bec he was so deep in self-medicating his trauma that he could not even run his company and that it was Obidiah Stane that was the one in charge of the company and illegally selling the weapons that killed her parents

Everyone focuses on Tony selling weapons in the first movie but no one thinks about how it was Howard Starks company and that Tony was groomed from birth to run it and that he had tried multiple times to make something else of the company but was constantly shut down with guilt tripping until he was kidnapped and he forced the manufacturing to end

Everyone focuses on Tony being "conceited" and "arrogant" and not "caring about anyone but himself" but no one thinks about how every single action he makes in his movies are about protecting the people he loves and cares for. His biggest fear is his friends- not himself- dying. he goes into every battle he's in fully prepared to die and does make the sacrifice play many many times

everyone always focuses on what Tony did wrong, but no one thinks about how much he has grown and how he spends every single waking moment trying to be a better and better man who cares so deeply about everyone and is trying to protect everyone the only way he knows how- and that is with the brain and intellect that had been the only thing about Tony that was ever praised about

[llycaons]

I saw a slightly obnoxious post like 'wow you realize it DOES make you feel better when you read more books and do x and y and z' and had my typical instantly contrarian thought of 'well sometimes....but some books this year I read pissed me the fuck off' but readings those books enhanced my enjoyment of the books I actually like so in a roundabout way I guess it was true..

[elftwink]

one thing i try to remind myself about this place when im getting annoyed at the dash is that MOST posts that go viral are written for a much smaller audience than they got, and are very often written in anger or upset. frequently i see posts that i think are overly aggressive and confrontational, have no chance of actually changing anyone's mind (and sometimes directly insult the reader by calling them stupid/lazy/immoral), lack contextualizing information, and/or catastrophize about the issue. i get irritated about these because my first thought is "why the fuck would you even post this when all it does is make you look bad and your position look unappealing" but like, most people are not posting in order to debate or justify their position. they're just venting, often assuming the people reading it will agree and validate their anger or upsetness— which is often why these posts get traction in the first place, since they also tend to be about topics you would rightfully get upset about.

relatedly, i (and maybe you too) have a tendency to assume that every post on tumblr that seems like the second half of a debate is a response to a different post on tumblr (the 'who is even saying that' response), but this is kind of unfair to the op since they could be responding to any number of things in their personal or professional lives, and are going to tumblr because it is a place where you can post whatever you think and be mostly assured nobody you know will see it. countless of my own posts are prompted by something irl but look to readers like just another tumblr discourse post. i think it's important that when you think 'who is even saying that' about a post to consider that the answer might be like, "op's shitty coworker" rather than "a large and vocal subsection of tumblr i have never heard of"

[astrid-beck]

I have to agree with you, I mean if somebody embodies catholic guilt....

Caleb Widogast was raised with the empire style christian-inflected "walk in the light of the dawnfather" religion but also he believes in sin and the soul and damnation and heaven. And while many would have you believe these are areligious concepts I won't be fooled.

[homelessnerd]

EDIT: This was unfair of me to write. I should not have assumed intent. I won’t delete it because people should be able to see the mistake that I made, and the point still stands if you did indeed lack compassion or mock OP, but I am sorry for assuming things so quickly. If I were to adjust the message it would be to be aware of how what you say comes across.

——————————————————————————

I was looking through the notes on this, and I am saying this as a Christian to my fellow Christians on this post. For the most part, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

We are not to laugh at the obvious death of people’s souls. We are not to mock or patronize people for saying things that show they don’t understand God. It is utterly inappropriate to look at someone that, from our worldview, is already spiritually dead, and have such a level of disregard for their souls that we send a meme.

You were once as they are, even if you don’t think you were that bad. You can still be quite close to that bad. You looked at someone who has had their heart ripped out of their chest, likely by someone who falsely claimed to follow God, and thought it would be a GOOD IDEA to pour salt in the wound rather than try to stop the bleeding.

Be ashamed of that, and learn to have compassion rather than ridicule for those who look at God and laugh. God doesn’t laugh, because he knows the danger they are in. You should not laugh either.

@feastingonchrist and @justalowlyservant appear to be the ONLY two Christians on this thread so far that have not had any level of sarcasm, taunting, ridicule, or other lack of humility on this post.

Idk who needs to hear this but you ARE a bad person for being Christian and you need to stop.

[moongothic]

I love the crocodad theory a lot but I fear that the fandom will start misgendering him or respect the character less because of transphobia.

Oda have written queer characters before who are respected by the fandom such as Bonclay but for Crocodile its another story. He is their alpha male badass character and adding queerness to his character might make them mad. Not that I care about those bigots feelings but its already not easy to navigate this fandom without queerphobia being thrown in your face.

Ppl can digest a queer character who fit in the stereotypes but once they dont, its another story.

Same, people are weird as fucking hell and gross about Crocodile maybe being trans already, we can be sure it would get worse if him being trans was confirmed in the story, there would be absolutely no avoiding it

But at the same time...

Transphobes are gonna be transphobes regardless, and I don't want that to become a reason for any storyteller to not create trans characters. I don't want Oda to bend over backwards to please the transphobes when they're the ones in the wrong. If anything, I want Oda to just go all the way with the message of queer liberation and freedom in One Piece. Like it's not perfect, but it's already there, but it's so subtle many queerphobes have been able to ignore it this whole time and I don't want Oda to let them ignore it anymore. I want him to rub it into their faces so hard they'll start complaining about "Oda going woke"

And like, let's be real. If Crocodile was trans and Oda pulled it off just right (without falling into certain pitfalls that he's be stumbling with this whole time with queer rep), that could unironically be like. Great not just trans rep but trans masc rep in particular

Like maybe it's just the media I've consumed but trans masc rep is typically very non-existant and/or very much like Yamato, who, while valid as hell, might not be how many trans masc people want to be seen as by others (as in, "confused girls")

We've known Crocodile as a character for 23 years at this point, and for the first 8-9 years of that he was very much seen as A Manly Cis Man (like you said) without a hint of a doubt (until Impel Down). If it turned out he had been trans this whole time, that would force people to rethink how they view trans people.

As just regular fucking people

That person you knew for years turned out to be trans? So what? What does that actually change about them? It's still the same person deep down. Those are the things Oda could force people to think about.

And honestly? If that helped convert even just a single transphobe, or educate someone without an opinion on trans people, to just letting trans people live their lives in peace, I think it'd be worth it

But like, yeah. The transphobes are gonna be loud regardless. It fucking sucks, and I hate the fandom for it. But, damned if you do, damned if you don't, there's no avoiding it. And I think the potential positive impact would outweight the already festering negativity.