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thetimetraveler24 · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I think about how people rank Jason as their least favorite because he’s “such a bland character with no personality”, but was he even allowed to have one in the first place?

He’s two years old when Lupa guides him to Camp Jupiter. He’s brought up to be the perfect soldier, the perfect Roman, the perfect hero. He doesn’t know life outside the legion. He’s the son of Jupiter, he has to be great. If he’s not, he’s a failure and a disgrace. If he is then he’s still not the best because there so many other heroes who did it better than him so he has to keep trying harder and harder even though no matter what he’s never going to be good enough because the moment he slips up he’s no longer the perfect hero.

The few times he actually tries to do something he wants, he’s only cut down. Changing the 12th legion to the 1st legion? No, you can’t do that. It’s tradition. You’re wrong. That’s stupid. Joining the 5th cohort? Why would you join those losers? You’re only hurting yourself. You could be great if you join the 1st cohort instead like a good Roman boy.

So why would he try to do anything that cultivates his identity? Why would he try to do anything that brings him joy if everyone around him is just going to suck it right out?

He has no best friends at Camp Jupiter. He has acquaintances. He has people he’s friendly with. Say what you want but Reyna was a coworker. Dakota was cool, Gwen was nice. But none of them make Jason want to stay at Camp Jupiter instead of Camp Half-Blood. He thinks of Reyna but only in terms of he doesn’t want to saddle her with the responsibility of picking a new praetor. He thinks about duty. When he is picking between the camps he’s weighing his options between doing his duty as he’s done his whole life or picking himself for the very first time ever and he picks himself.

And it’s honestly so fucking depressing that the first time Jason picks himself and is actually supported in his decision happens when he is sixteen years old. And most of the people supporting him have only known him for a month.

But then he saddles himself with duty and responsibilities because that’s all he’s ever known and Percy is dying and Jason is a good Roman and a good hero and his job is to sacrifice his life for everyone else because of course it is. So he takes on Pontifex Maximus to build shrines and temples to minor gods and goddesses (not that they shouldn’t be honored but… once again he’s sacrificing his identity for the good of everyone around him).

And then, just as he’s finally discovering an identity for himself—he likes physics, he’s learning about the mortal world and living in it, he’s becoming more than just Jupiters son and Juno’s perfect hero—he’s killed.

Jason never got to be Jason. He only got to be Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, Praetor of the 12th Legion, slayer of Krios, one of the Seven, Juno’s Champion, Pontifex Maximus. He always belonged to someone else and never himself.

All this to say, Jason is my favorite of the Seven and although he’s not the eldest nor a daughter, as an eldest daughter I relate so hard and feel very seen in him.

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oceandolores · 4 months ago

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ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫 | masterlist.

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

"Fata viam invenient | The fates will find a way."

summary: In the grandeur of ancient Rome, you are the secret daughter of Commodus, living a quiet life as a servant in the imperial palace. Everything changes when you meet General Marcus Acacius, Rome’s honorable and stoic leader.

Though devoted to duty and loyalty to the princess, Marcus is drawn to you in a way he cannot ignore. A forbidden passion ignites between you both, and an affair begins—one that threatens the very foundation of loyalty, power, and honor. As you fall deeper into your dangerous love for Marcus, each stolen moment becomes a fragile, dangerous secret.

warnings: 18+ only, 14 YEARS AFTER GLADIATOR 1, ANGST, Fluff, A LOT OF SMUT, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, mentions of violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, mentions of death, Innocent and pure reader, Infidelity, more warnings will be added throughout the story

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝They call you Rome’s lion, her indomitable shield, yet to me, you are the flicker of warmth in a palace carved from ice.

Your hands are calloused from war, but they cradle my soul with the tenderness of spring rain. Your voice commands legions, yet it whispers my name like a prayer, as though the gods themselves might hear and envy us our stolen moments.

If love were not a sin, I would adorn you with laurel not for conquest, but for the triumph of your heart over mine. Yet here we linger, caught in the webs of empire, where every glance is a rebellion, and every touch a battle lost.

Ad te anhelo, quasi ad caelum ipsam, (I long for you as though for the heavens themselves,) but our stars burn too brightly, and even the gods avert their eyes.

So I am to love you as Rome loves her champions— for eternally.❞

thꫀ ρᥣᥲᥡᥣเ᥉t! (on spotify) 🏛️

in love with marcus acacius

ꪑᥲ᥉tꫀɾᥣเ᥉t!🌞

Chapter I: "in her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy."

Chapter II: Soon

Chapter III: Soon

Chapter IV: Soon

Chapter V: Soon

Chapter VI: Soon

Chapter VII: Soon

Chapter VIII: Soon

Chapter IX: Soon

Chapter X: Soon

Chapter XI: Soon

Chapter XII: Soon

Chapter XIII: Soon

Chapter XIV: Soon

Chapter XV: Ending

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voidsentprinces · 8 months ago

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Reminder: A Realm Reborn wasn't particularly about us. It was about the Eorzean Factions, it was about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and their interactions with and thwarting Gaius and the XIVth Legion. We were just a useful champion slowly growing to fame but not truly a Warrior of Light until literally the prelude to the Castrum raiding mission.

The Parting of Glass wasn't about us either. It was, once again, about the world. And how it had begun changing after Gaius's fall and the brief period of peace away from Garlemald's Shadow. About Alphinaud beginning his arc of growth with hubris and the creation the Crystal Braves and what it might of looked like IF the Scion's good nature was lent to anyone and everyone. And thus opening itself up to the very corruption Minfilia feared to move away from the Waking Sands and to the Rising Stones in the first place.

Heavensward isn't about us. It is about Alphinaud's continue growth, learning of Ishgard's past and history. Hubris, arrogance and narrow viewing lead Alphinaud to steps of the Foundation, it has lead Estinien astray and made Ysayle believe she is a messiah incarnate. And through the journey, each of them grow as they learn the terrible truth about the Dragonsong War. Estinien in particular has his eyes opened and no longer simply seeks revenge on Nidhogg but to get to the bottom of it all. So no other shepherd's son has to live as he has. Ysayle learns she is a shade and a faux Shiva not truly Hraesvelgr's beloved or even in the same category as her. She learns swallow such delusions and embrace what Saint Shiva stood for in its entirety. Which means leaning to lay the road for peace between Ishgard and the Dragons and opening a path to this by sacrificing herself for those she loved so dearly. Alphinaud learns from all of this and more and is humbled by the duty of a knight, the fervor of a dragoon, the sacrifice of a saint, and the courage of his companions and of Sharlayan's arrogance from Master Matoya. To put others before himself and allow others to support him when he falls.

The Far Edge of Fate isn't about us. It was about how Ishgard carries on after Thordan and the Heavens Ward are shown to be the monsters they are. How the remnants of the church, the knights of Ishgard, and the civilian population react to the realization with rejection. How facing off against Nidhogg possessing Estinien, the Warriors of Darkness, and the machinations of Ilberd force Eorzea and Ishgard to look inward and know truly where they should go from there. To ignore the easier road and take the higher path no matter the strife and hardship it provides them. Because when they reach the otherside they would be better for it. Finding that courage, after five years of procrastinating and hemming and hawing, the Eorzean Alliance finally begin to mobilize to free Ala Mhigo from Garlemald and perhaps take on the Empire itself.

Stormblood isn't about us. It is about Doma and Ala Mhigo fighting for the survival of their people and cultures. Facing the parts of their society that were spurned and used as tools of hatred against their principles. That provided the necessary cracks required for Garlemald to break them down and oppress them in the first place. And how reforging under those values and those long histories of violence can make a new path and come to terms to over throw the tyrants who fed on their weakened states and make a strong unity still.

A Requiem of Heroes wasn't about us, it was about the world facing down the barrel of war with Garlemald. And uncovering its origins, its founding father was an Ascian. How Varis is forced to face down the lie as Elidibus wears the skin of his son and the great grandfather he and other Garleans were taught was a walking god in all but name was a sham and a daemon bent on causing more pain and suffering than mankind ever deserved. How the effigies of hate and pain choose to use their fervor to help their people instead of turning against them once more. How every person can change and be given a second chance. How that second chance is what that person requires or if they are pushed the wrong direction, can caused tragedy to unfold. And lastly, it is about our companions, slowly. One by one. Being dragged to the unknown. The story slowly taking away the players on the stage until finally...

Shadowbringers was about us. It was about how we were instrumental to the world so much that it lost nearly all hope in another timeline. How a group of your fondest friends began and how your comrade's furthest decendents acting on the hope of your legend and stories. To provide a plan of action and lead to happier world. How even when everything seems lost and gone and your purpose seems to turned everything around you into twisted monstrosities. That you can bring the night and wait in comfort for a dawn to bring better days. And the tenacity of your aid providing a world on the brink, the love, the compassion, the understanding, the strength, and the will to stand up to a flood of destruction and spit fate in the eye. Even it costs them everything, they keep fighting until they can see a brighter tomorrow.

Death unto Dawn was about what the tomorrow brings. How it could be another fight but to find what is WORTH fighting for. The memories of those you fight and lived amongst, old studies and things of the past being made to provide the answer to the future, making right wrongs even against those you had wronged unfairly, and to gather together and keep each other safe. You are not alone out here. There are those who will help you along to a brighter future.

Endwalker was about you and yours. About how everyone reacts to an uncertain future in different manners. How some would make ready to flee at the approaching storm, while others would fight, and others might even push you further to the edge. But even when all is lost, call upon the memory of happier times to light the way with hearts aligned shining brilliantly against despair and finding your place amongst those memories.

Growing Light was about us teaching another to hear, feel, and think and experience the world seemingly gone. That everything needn't be give or take. It can be a charitable, warmer place if we make it. It can be kinder and even in the face of unrelenting and undying destruction. Hope will spit out a tooth and stand up once more.

I say all of this because, I've seen people mad that Dawntrail is leaning hard about being about Wuk Lamat and others. To which I say so what if Dawntrail is about Wuk Lamat and Koana? So what if its not about us? We've had four story lines about us. Now we must impart what we've learned to the future as they face similar and sometimes overwhelming odds. To stand tall against the onslaught and make their own choices, their own way to bring a smile to all they hold dear. How family needn't be blood related, they can just be a group who sit down at the table at the end of the day. And speak, laugh, cry, and love. Unto this trail to dawn we shall light way for the future of our world and everything this new dawn brings is worth it.

#{ ramblings of the void }

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shiyorin · 3 months ago

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#Happy Sanguinala, time to meet the Great Angel

#Chaos Sanguinius x Female Reader

#Yep, four of them

#Warning: NSFW, rape, non-con, Chaos Sanguinius, there is a lot of sensitive content,....

Khorne Sanguinius

The Great Angel, his once-white wings now stained crimson with the blood of a thousand worlds. His noble features are still beautifully but twisted with rage, eyes glowing red with murderous intent. The Blood God's chosen champion, Khorne Sanguinius leads his Legion on a never-ending crusade of slaughter.

Gone is the compassion that once defined him. In its place, a burning thirst for violence that can never be quenched. His laughter is a terrifying sound that sends even hardened warriors fleeing in terror.

The Blood Angels, once noble defenders of humanity, are now rabid berserkers. Their gene-seed, already tainted by the Red Thirst, has been twisted further. Now, they fall into a permanent state of uncontrollable bloodlust, barely distinguishable from mindless beasts.

The chamber reeked of blood, sweat and sex, a fitting shrine to Khorne's newest champion. Sanguinius loomed over your petite form, his massive frame dwarfing yours entirely. His once-white wings, now stained crimson, twitched with barely restrained violence as he thrust savagely into your tight heat.

Your body shook with each brutal impact, tears streaming down your face from the intensity. But Sanguinius saw only beauty in your pain. He leaned down, his tongue gently lapping at the salty trails on your cheeks.

"So good." he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You take me so well, my dearest."

The tenderness of the words contrasted sharply with the relentless pounding of his hips.

Your only response was a defiant glare, your eyes burning with a mixture of hatred and unwanted arousal. Sanguinius smiled, a touch of arrogance curling his lips. He knew you would never admit it, but your body betrayed you. The way you clenched around his massive cock, the breathless moans you tried so hard to suppress - you wanted this as much as he did.

His tongue trailed lower, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw before finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered involuntarily, and Sanguinius chuckled gently.

"That's it," he purred. "Let go. Give yourself to me."

He nipped at your earlobe, then began working his way down your neck. His lips and tongue moved with exquisite gentleness, a stark contrast to the brutal pace of his thrusts. It was as if he was trying to soothe away the pain even as he inflicted more.

Sanguinius paused at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. He laved the spot with his tongue, the sensation almost numbing. You tensed, knowing what was coming.

With a growl of pure lust, Sanguinius sank his fangs into your flesh. The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth, and he roared in ecstasy. His hips jerked erratically as he came, pumping load after load of scalding seed deep into your womb.

The world went white around the edges as pleasure unlike anything he'd ever known coursed through him. It was better than any battle-high, more intoxicating than the sweetest victory. In that moment, Sanguinius understood why chaos held such sway over mortals and Astartes alike.

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Even as the aftershocks of his orgasm still rippled through him, Sanguinius felt his cock hardening again. The blessings of Khorne and his Primarch physiology ensured he could go for hours, days even, without respite.

He pulled back slightly, admiring the livid bite mark on your neck. A possessive thrill ran through him at the sight. You were his now, marked and claimed in the most primal way possible.

Sanguinius leaned down, his tongue gently lapping at the wound. He could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his lips, the rush of blood calling to the predator within him. But he held back, content for now to simply taste and savor.

"I can give you more.” he said, your answer didn't matter, he would take what he wanted regardless.

Sanguinius began to move again, setting a pace that had you gasping and clawing at his back. Your nails dig so deep left bloody furrows in his skin, but he feels no pain, only pleasure. He reveled in it, just as Blood God had taught him to revel in all sensations.

Blood and pleasure, pain and ecstasy, it was all the same in the end.

After all, they had all the time in the world. And he had so much more love to give.

Tzeentch Sanguinius

The Ever-Changing Angel. His once-majestic form shifts constantly, his wings are now covered in dozens of ever-watching eyes. These orbs constantly swivel and blink, granting the angel omniscient awareness of his surroundings. The feathers have become iridescent, shimmering with impossible colors that hurt mortal minds to perceive.

His mind, already sharp, has expanded beyond mortal comprehension. He sees all possible futures simultaneously, playing out grand schemes that span millennia.

Sanguinius speaks in riddles and prophecies, his words carrying multiple layers of meaning. He delights in manipulating events from afar, setting up elaborate dominoes of fate that topple empires and birth new galaxies.

The Ever-Changing Angel’s wings unfurled and shimmering with impossible colors. Each feather held a lidless eye that gazed hungrily at the little mortal bent before him. Your face burned crimson, turned away in a futile attempt to hide your embarrassment from the Chaos Primarch's all-seeing gaze.

The corrupted Angel of Baal gripped your hips, his enormous hands nearly encircling your waist entirely. He pulled you back onto his monstrous cock, stretching your tight pussy to its absolute limit. You bit your lip to stifle a cry, your body trembling as it struggled to accommodate Sanguinius' inhuman size.

Sanguinius began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. He savored the exquisite friction, reveling in your warmth and the way your inner walls clenched around him. His mind raced with possibilities, a thousand potential futures unfolding before his Warp-touched eyes.

In one, he saw you swollen with his seed, your belly distended as you prepared to birth his heir. In another, your body was remade in his image, wings sprouting from your back as you ascended. Still more visions flickered through his consciousness.

You whimpered softly as Sanguinius picked up the pace, your small frame rocking with the force of his thrusts. You felt utterly overwhelmed, filled to the brim with the Primarch's massive member. Despite your training, you found yourself lost in the maelstrom of sensations assaulting your body.

Sanguinius leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he enveloped you with his wings. The feathered appendages caressed your skin, each touch sending jolts of unnatural pleasure coursing through your nerves. The eyes adorning his plumage blinked and shifted, drinking in every detail of your face.

As his orgasm approached, Sanguinius' mind fixated on one particular future - you, your belly swollen with eggs, utterly dependent on him for survival. The image sent a thrill of excitement through him, and he growled low in his throat.

"Perhaps." he purred, his voice a discordant symphony of whispers "we should see how well you lay eggs."

With those words, Sanguinius hilted himself fully inside you, his seed flooding your womb as reality itself bent to his will.

Nurgle Sanguinius

The Plague Father's embrace has transformed the Great Angel. Now Sanguinius' wings drip with putrid ichor, his flesh a canvas of lesions that birth new diseases with every breath.

But in this form, the Angel has found a perverse kind of peace. He spreads Nurgle's "gifts" with the same zeal he once showed in defending the Imperium.

He sees beauty in decay, marveling at the complex ecosystem of bacteria and parasites that call his garden home. He nurtures them lovingly, crooning lullabies as he unleashes them upon unsuspecting worlds.

Pale, fungal flowers exhaled spores that danced in the air like glittering dust. The fallen Angel reclined on a bed of writhing vines, his skin now alabaster and crisscrossed with livid scars.

Underneath him lay you, your petite form dwarfed by the Primarch's massive bulk. Your belly swelled obscenely, stretched taut with the unholy life growing within. Sanguinius gazed upon you with adoration, misinterpreting your revolted expression as one of tender affection.

"My love," he crooned, voice thick with emotion. "How beautiful you are, heavy with our child."

His massive hand splayed across your distended abdomen, caressing the taut skin with surprising gentleness. Beneath his palm, something twisted and writhed, pushing against its fleshy prison. The angel smiled gently, imagining the perfect being they had created together.

You bit back a whimper of disgust as the fallen Primarch's fingers gently caressed across your skin. You remembered all too well the endless, agonizing hours of their coupling, he rutting into you with tireless stamina, his seed flooding your womb again and again until it finally took root.

Now you were trapped, your body no longer your own as it nurtured the abomination growing inside you. You longed for the sweet release of death, but knew that even that escape was denied you. Nurgle's "gifts" ensured you would endure, no matter how your body and mind might break.

Oblivious to your inner turmoil, Sanguinius continued his tender explorations. His hand drifted higher, cupping one of your swollen breasts. They had grown heavy with milk, preparing to nourish the child you carried.

"So beautiful” he murmured, kneading the soft flesh. A drop of pearlescent fluid beaded at your nipple, and Sanguinius licked his lips in anticipation. Soon, he would taste the sweet nectar of their love.

Leaning down, he took your nipple into his mouth, suckling gently. The warm milk flooded his mouth, and he groaned in ecstasy. It was sweeter than the finest ambrosia, carrying hints of the love that now coursed through your veins.

You stared blankly at the canopy of fungal growths above, desperately trying to disconnect from the sensation of his mouth on your breast. You focused on the sweet scent of decay that permeated the air, on the squelching sounds of nameless things moving through the underbrush. Anything to distract from the horror of your situation.

But there was no true escape. As Sanguinius' arousal grew, you felt the massive bulge of his cock pressing against your thigh. You knew what was coming, and a small sob escaped your lips.

The fallen Primarch misinterpreted your cry as one of desire. With aching tenderness, he positioned himself between your legs, his engorged member throbbing with anticipation.

"I love you," he whispered as he pushed inside you.

You bit your lip until you tasted blood, refusing to give voice to your pain as Sanguinius stretched you far beyond your limits. His girth was monstrous, and even after countless couplings, your body struggled to accommodate him.

The angel set a languid pace, savoring every sensation as he made love to his bride. His hands roamed over your body reverently, marveling at how small and delicate you were compared to his massive frame.

In his twisted mind, this was the ultimate expression of their love. Every thrust brought them closer to the glorious future he envisioned, a family bound by devotion and Nurgle's blessings. Their child would be perfect, a living testament to the power of their union.

The angel gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his broad chest.

"My love" he murmured, stroking your hair. "Our family will be complete soon."

Slaneesh Sanguinius

The Prince of Pleasure has molded Sanguinius into its ultimate champion. The pleasure angel is a being of otherworldly beauty and horrific excess. His wings shimmer with impossible colors, each feather a gateway to mind-shattering sensations.

Gone is the noble restraint that once defined him. Now, the angel pursues every fleeting whim and desire to its ultimate conclusion. He leads his Legion on endless crusades, leaving worlds drained of all sensation in their wake.

No longer content with mere blood, now he feast on emotions, memories, and souls, always hungry for new experiences to stave off the gnawing emptiness within.

Sanguinius' voice is a weapon in itself, capable of reducing the strongest-willed beings to quivering addicts with a single whispered promise. He revels in corrupting the pure, seeing how far he can push beings before they break.

The pleasure angel stood before the ornate mirror, admiring his transcendent form. His wings shimmered with impossible hues, each feather a gateway to mind-shattering sensations. The Primarch's perfectly sculpted body was a masterpiece of hedonistic excess, every inch designed to evoke desire.

But perfection was fleeting in the realm of the Prince of Pleasure. There was always a new threshold of beauty to cross, another exquisite sensation to explore. Sanguinius' lips curled into a smile as he contemplated his latest adornments.

With delicate precision, he slid a gleaming golden ring through his left nipple. The cool metal sent shivers of delight coursing through his body. He savored the subtle ache, knowing it would heighten every touch, every caress.

Sanguinius traced his fingers along the intricate patterns inked into his alabaster skin. The tattoos shifted and swirled, hypnotic designs that seemed to move of their own accord. They were a map of pleasure, each line and curve attuned to elicit maximum sensation.

His thoughts turned to you, his only lover, chained to his bed. You were so fierce and independent, now trembled at his merest touch. Sanguinius felt a surge of pride mixed with insatiable hunger. No matter how many times he claimed you, it was never enough.

He recalled the way you writhed beneath him, your small form struggling to accommodate his huge cock. The delicious contrast of your petite body against his towering frame never failed to arouse him. Sanguinius' member swelled at the memory, already aching to be buried in your tight heat once more.

With a thought, he summoned wisps of warp energy to caress his skin. The ethereal tendrils danced along his flesh, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake. Sanguinius groaned, imagining your reaction to this new trick. Would you gasp in awe? Whimper in desperate need? The possibilities were intoxicating.

He selected a vial of shimmering oil, specially crafted to heighten sensitivity. Sanguinius poured a generous amount into his palm, then began to massage it into his chiseled abs and powerful thighs. The oil seemed to sink into his very being, setting every nerve ending aflame with exquisite sensation.

His cock throbbed insistently, demanding attention. Sanguinius wrapped his hand around the massive shaft, stroking languidly. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and he smeared it over the head, hissing at the intensity of the feeling. He imagined your lips wrapped around him, your throat struggling to take his full length...

With effort, Sanguinius released his grip. No, he would save his release for you. The anticipation would only make it sweeter.

He adorned himself with jewelry crafted from precious metals and soul-stones. Each piece was a work of art, designed to accentuate his godlike physique. Rings glittered on his fingers, and chains draped artfully across his broad chest.

Satisfied with his preparations, Sanguinius turned toward the door that separated him from his lover. His enhanced senses could already detect your rapid heartbeat, the sweet musk of your arousal. You might pretend to resist, might curse his name even as you came undone beneath him. But Sanguinius knew the truth, you were utterly, hopelessly addicted to the pleasures only he could provide.

He pushed open the door, drinking in the sight of you bound and waiting. Today, he would introduce you to new heights of ecstasy. Today, he would make you scream his name loud enough to shake the very foundations of reality.

Sanguinius smiled, a gentle smile about to devour his lover. He loves you and it's never enough.

#shiyorin's writer #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #yandere au #chaos au #wh40crack #romantic stuff in 40k

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moonshynecybin · 1 year ago

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if you have the time or inclination, can i ask what the deal with motogp/those boys is about? i don’t mean that in a mean way btw, im just curious and i love drama

i will try to be brief (1/4358)

SO! valentino rossi (born 16 February 1979, aquarius. italian.) is one of the most iconic people in motorsport, CERTAINLY in motogp. he's a 9 time world champion, your favorite driver's favorite driver, and is generally credited with revolutionizing the popularity of the sport by: a. being insanely good at motorcycle racing, and b. in general having a lot of fun about it. lethally charming and charismatic. all time active listening face. just a fun and funny dude that everyone pretty much likes and MANY younger riders idolize. VERY good at handling the media and his legions of cult-like fans. sometimes treated more like a god than a person. i was in the store yesterday and saw one of his themed monster energy drinks despite him retiring two years ago. his fun retirement activity is racing BMWs and running his own motogp team/training facility/cult for young italian racers. (this is where cele and bezz and basically every italian rider not named enea bastianini come from!)

so in 2011ish valentino had won 9 titles, and he decided to leave his current manufacturer and move to italian manufacturer ducati where he generally had a stone-cold terrible time. EXTENDED flop era for a couple years. any time ive watched content that covers this period everyone is so sad. so sad. anyways he GOES BACK to his old manufacturer in 2013 and is much more competitive. kind of just happy to be winning sometimes and be on the podium. 2013 is also where marc comes in. what could go wrong.

marc marquez! (born 17 february 1993, almost exactly 14 years after vale which i'm sure means nothing. also an aquarius. spanish.) childhood sports idols include: dani pedrosa, VALENTINO ROSSI.

marc carved his way up through the feeder championships until casey stoner unexpectedly retired at the end of the 2012 season leaving a seat empty on a VERY good bike for his rookie season. rocked up and was immediately VERY good at winning and very good at being a crazyinsane person on track that made people mad at him lol. hilarious habit of pissing people off via on-track crimes that i really enjoy. motogp riders are already crazy (they do death sport) but marc is famous for taking risks no one else will. basically if he's not winning, he's crashed out or he's maybe crashed YOU out. he wins the championship as a rookie (insane) and the next year's championship as well. heir apparent to the throne. sweet and goofy but is now known as one of the more reserved riders with the press. probably because of all this drama tbh. undisputed GOAT of acting like a slut on camera

throughout 2013-2014, marc and valentino had a good relationship! marc very clearly idolizes him and is like. bowled over completely with delight every time valentino looks his way. vale likes him! theyre buds! truly an endless well of pictures of vale explaining something with his hands and marc babygirling at him. highly recommend checking out @pgaslys every rosquez podium tag for contextual brain damage. insane times.

(IT SHOULD BE NOTED: before the 2015 season marc visits valentino at his practice track in italy, where they compete to break the track record and almost kill each other bc they are so pathologically competitive. APPARENTLY, marc showed up with some official mechanics and valentino was a little pissed off because it was supposed to be a like. fun thing. and to marc winning is the most fun! if you dont come to win why come at all! anyways marc breaks the track record and credits that to cooling their relationship a bit. good post about it here.) here they are that day:

so what could go wrong, right? WELL. valentino has a chance to win his tenth title in 2015. marc is on a flop bike and crashed a bunch so he's not in the championship conversation but vale is leading the standings from the jump, with his main opponent being jorge lorenzo. i think he really wanted that tenth, and dedicated himself to the season in a way he hadnt really ever before (he was a very effortless competitor when he was young. gym-adverse. king).

marc and him start to get into some scraps along the way, notably in argentina (where they made contact and marc crashed out), assen (where they made contact AGAIN and vale won the race), and phillip island (marc won. GREAT race available here for free). phillip island sees vale finishing P4 and jorge lorenzo finishing ahead of him in P3, reducing his championship lead by quite a bit. no real indication of any tension during these races, and they are asked about it!

this is where valentino's delulu era begins! basically, ahead of the next race (🔥🔥SEPANG 2015🔥🔥) in the pre-race press conference, he goes after marc, saying he was deliberately sabotaging valentino in phillip island because marc wanted jorge to win. in valentino's mind. marc wants jorge to win because a. they are both spanish (??) and b. it would mean marc has to win less titles to equal valentino's total. record scratch. freeze frame.

everyone (including marc!) thinks valentino is joking at first bc that is bananascrazyinsane. he was not joking. (it should be noted valentino STILL thinks this lol.) anyways marc is completely blindsided. he thought they were good! yeah they've been chippy on track but that's racing!! truly like. 22 years old and your friend (AND CHILDHOOD IDOL.) is calling you a snake in front of your face with NO prior warning to the entire motogp establishment writ large including your coworkers and REPORTERS. valentino wont even look at him the entire time. the press conference is available here on vimeo. excruciating gifsets of marc's very stiff bewildered PR smile found here.

anyways so. the race. marc is uh. pissed off. he's stuck to valentino like GLUE the entire time and they trade places a bunch of times. now marc is kind of famous for being a little asshole on track anyways, but its not like he's gonna get out of valentino's way and just let him pass after what he said in that press conference so. hand in unlovable hand <3. truly very fun to watch imo even with the sword of damocles hanging over them. marc is fucking on one the entire race and basically refuses to give valentino an inch until vale gets so fed up with his antics that um. well. it certainly looks like he kicked him. vale says he didnt, and that his leg accidently made contact with marc's bike. marcs says. he fucking kicked me. judge for yourself here!

so valentino gets hauled in front of race direction and penalized for the next race (the deciding race for the championship). he has to start from the back of the grid and it kills his chance at a tenth title stone dead. vale places the blame squarely on marc's shoulders and his legions of fans decide marc is public enemy number 1. him and jorge have to get security at the next race because of death threats, someone tries to break into marc's childhood home back in spain, marc's mom throws away all of marc's valentino merchandise from when he was a kid. vale says nothing.

but the thing about marc. is that he loves very hard and chooses his people pretty carefully. didnt really move out of his tiny hometown until he turned 30 and also made his baby brother move in with him kind of guy. so all this is not really enough for him to let go of vale entirely! 2016 is where the pain lives! bc marc is still reaching out and vale himself stays pretty cold for a couple years. they seem to faintly reconcile for a bit but its not anywhere like it was before sepang.

the real nail in the coffin is argentina 2018. another insane race where marc has to start from the back and goes on a rampage through the field and crashes out like three people. i cant remember. this race is also available on youtube for free its very entertaining. every five minutes marc does something insane. vale is one of the people marc crashes out and afterwardshe goes on a big rant about how marc is destroying the sport and is actively dangerous. marc goes to valentino's garage immediately after the race to apologize and vale doesnt even look at him. he gets turned away at the door after vale's best friend/assistant/henchman yells in his face1!!! and thats kind off all she wrote in terms of reconciliation

anyways that's where we are! they are both very much not over it. vale goes on podcasts and is like. in 30 years i will still be mad, im literally never going to get over it it was such a big and unfair thing and i think about it all the time like it was yesterday. and marc (lying) says as time goes by i dont even think about it :) and i care about valentino less and less :))) but yes he hurt me deeply lol. CANNOT stress enough how much this entire thing is now inextricably liked to both of their legacies. the two arguable GOATs of a sport had an epic fleetwood mac-style beatles breakup divorce and everyone wants to talk about it allllll day long including me :)

additional context! really recommend checking out marc's little docuseries he put out this year about his recent struggles with injury. he is so not right in the head and it goes over the valentino drama in ep3. theres also hitting the apex (2015) which goes over the 2013 season (marc's rookie season) and is a really good introduction to all the major players at the time. its like less than 2 hrs long so its not too much of a commitment

also recommend following scholars @babynflames, @its-always-silly-season, @baking-soda, and @f1vegas as well as many others im forgetting rn bc its 2am!

#truly. i am new here. so grain of salt etc #motogp #callie speaks #asks #long post #rosquez #primer

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grimmtells · 2 months ago

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✦ King Photron and the Firefolk (TBA) || Grimmverse Heroes of Yore (TBA) ✦

✦ Born of 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧's craftsmanship, 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚 was destined to be wielded by a now long-gone hero of legend. However, when presented with the blade, the hero humbly declined in favour it of his own. Deeply affronted by this rejection, the blade swore that none but the One truly worthy would ever command its power." For countless aeons, warriors and knights of all creeds have sought to wield the legendary blade, yet its judgement remained merciless and unyielding. Fierce thunder struck down the insolents, scorning their pitiful attempts. One day, the terrible 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 stole 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚 from its creator. Many times, he wielded his dark powers in attempt subdued the blade, and many times he failed, as it stood firm against his spells. Frustrated, the dark lord had countless monsters wield it, but each attempt ended in failure as the blade refused to yield. Furious and unwilling to let the fabled blade be used against him, 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 concealed 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚 atop a treacherous mountain, surrounded by legions of demon beasts to guard it. The blade might have remained lost for eternity had it not been for a valiant group of soldiers longing for freedom, scaled the mountain and fought valiantly to claim it. At the peak, two reached 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚’s hilt, but only one was deemed worthy — 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. Since that fateful day, the blade has remained unwaveringly loyal to his champion, accompanying the knight in his quest. As of today, he resides on Popstar alongside 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 and their two trusted acolytes, 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 and 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ."

✦ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ✦ ────────

✦ Voice Claim | Thunder bringer, Lighting Yielder. ✦ Likes | Chivalry, Bravery, Fighting prowess, Apples & Gem apples ✦ Dislikes | Cowardice, Entitlement to his power, Weakness

✦ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✦ ───────────

• Galaxia was forged to maintain peace across the galaxy through its power. Yet, after isolating himself for so long awaiting a worthy warrior, he grew distant and cold, now struggling to fully comprehend emotions and conflicts that don’t arise from war. • He's excessively stoic, expressing little emotion himself. He always keeps a level-tone when talking. • Galaxia is very matter-of-fact oriented and doesn't do well with humour. He will often almost always misunderstand jokes, idioms and figures of speech due to taking them too literally. • Galaxia is blunt and honest to a fault. Practically insensitive, even. He will say whatever's on his mind, even if it might bother someone. If it does bother, you can be certain he will probably not apologise for it. He never even says anything to be mean specifically, he just says what he considers to be truth. • Unfortunately, he is also very, very, terribly judgemental. • Galaxia is actually temperamental and prideful. However, he tries his utmost best to repress his anger. If anything, he would rather avoid getting enraged, as it greatly blinds his mind. • While most of this makes him sound like a complete jerk which he is, to be fair, he remains on the side of Good. He may have trouble showing it, he does care about the people around him. They are those he yielded his power to a worthy warrior for. He may not be the most agreeable man, but he only wants the best for others, for his duty is to keep them safe.

✦ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦ ────────

✦ "𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚, 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭." • Galaxia is channeled through his wielder's willpower. His wielder’s boundless willpower serves as a limitless source of power to tap into, in this state, Galaxia can fight independently. • When summoned, he should remain in close proximity to Meta Knight, acting both as shield and ally. It takes energy from the both of them for him to stray away. If Meta Knight is incapacitated in any way, Galaxia cannot manifest. This is intentional and by design, as Photron created the blade to depend on its wielder. • Galaxia’s true weakness is his soul, as the blade itself is impervious to harm as the blade itself was forged from Photron's divine gold, imbued with his celestial power. Only its creator holds the power to melt the blade. • Galaxia wields the elements of Light, Thunder, and Fire, reflecting the powers of his creator. His light-based abilities include (but not limited to) summoning radiant blades and a shields of light. With Thunder, he can call down lightning strikes, summon thunder spears, and unleash storms, especially when driven by rage. Fire is his most volatile power, allowing him to burn searingly hot, making him nigh untouchable, while his hair can set ablaze entirely, especially when fueled by rage as well. • Naturally, these abilities take a significant toll on Meta Knight as well. Since many of them can be accessed without summoning the Avatar, he calls upon Galaxia’s full form only when necessary.

✦ 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ────────────

✦ 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 ✦ ─────

✦ 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 ✦ ───────────────

• He is gigantic and towers over everybody in Dreamland. • Galaxia was finalized and born on February 6th (02/06). • The height of the avatar is variable. Galaxia very explicitely CHOOSES to be as tall as he is. • Galaxia doesn't need to eat, but for some reason, he has taken a peculiar liking to apples and apple treats of any kind. Especially gem apples from Cappy Town's plaza tree. • He tends to call Meta Knight : "Chosen", "Champion", "Wielder". If not any of these, it's always Sir Meta Knight in full. • It's very subtle, but his ponytail is the most expressive part of him. He has a lot of control over it currently, but it vaguely moves depending on his mood. It puffs up if angry, droops if saddened, the tip at the end can perk up if his interest is piqued, things like that. • He greatly disapproves of Meta Knight's excessively sweet tooth and reminds him to not eat too many sweets and desserts every opportunity he gets. • The life and consciousness he was gifted have given him a sense of Identity, hence why his avatar looks and sounds the way it does. He presents himself as a masculine figure with a male voice, because such is the way he feels comfortable with, although he couldn't tell you why.

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