#heaven's war machine

[shallowseeker]

Why did Cas kill Balthazar?

Sometimes I chat with folks and we're surprised to revisit the fact that Cas killed Balthazar in a fit of cruel paranoia before he ever gulped in the soul juice.

Cas is incredibly paranoid when he kills Balthazar, and it was quite possibly one of his worst moments. It seems irrational and mad at the time, but Cas's psyche is actually very understandable. Cas was betrayed by Heaven numerous times from seasons 4-6. That set him up to be backed into a corner.

In early season 4, Heaven drags him in for torture for daring to even consider warning Dean about their corrupt plans.

Uriel tries to kill him and join Lucifer.

At the end of season 4, Cas gets brutally murdered for standing up for what he feels is right. Bazillions of years of military service and loyalty mean nothing to his superiors, and he's vaporized in an instant. He seems particularly betrayed by Raphael.

When Cas returns to Heaven post-Apocalypse #1, he's ashamed that they want to start up Apocalypse #2. He even stands against Raphael at first! Interestingly, Raphael doesn't kill him again but "knocks him into next week." I think this hints that Raphael was at one time fond of Castiel, or else he'd have simply killed him again.

So, angelic civil war.

Cas doesn't go to Dean or Sam or Bobby because he's ashamed of Heaven, and above all, he wants to protect them. Not to mention, he didn't want to make them a target because to angels, they're a relatively soft target. While he's in battle, he can't be there to protect them.

So away, Cas and Crowley go for a SuperMario power-up by tapping Purgatory's battery. Meanwhile, Cas convinces a team of angels to stand with him against Raphael.

Even with his "show of power" via the souls Crowley loaned to him (and I'm guessing Cas can wield soul power in a way Crowley cannot?), that's still a big risk those rebel angels are taking.

And Cas doesn't tell them critical parts of his plan. Because he knows his plan is wrong. He doesn't even tell Balthazar everything. But more importantly, he doesn't trust Heaven. Thanks to what Heaven has wrought, Cas doesn't even trust his rebel angels--the ones brave enough to take on friggin' Raphael with him.

I mean, sure. He was always going to double-cross Crowley, but it didn't even cross his mind to divvy up the soul power with Balthazar or his rebel angels. That's because he's paranoid of them turning on him.

And with what Heaven has thus far shown itself to be...why wouldn't he be?

[beastsovrevelation]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Summary:

The Supreme Commander and the Antichrist join efforts to solve a mystery. With the help of a whiskey-loving jackal.

[millionsknives]

*starts listening to the thg playlist*

augh -1 health

oof -1 health

ugh! -1 health

mmf -1 health

ugh! -1 health

augh -1 health

etc

GOOD that’s the effect i wanted >:)

[passer-ine]

Imagine how sexy life would be with an arch nemesis who would cut you down, break you apart, splay the gore of your profane across the stars, who would grind you down until the very sparks cry for mercy.

[robotshowtunes]

Neo Super Robot Wars (新スーパーロボット大戦)

Adapted from Neo Super Robot Wars and Another Dragon Ball Episode

[eremin0109]

Rewatching season 6 and I just think that we all moved on a little too quickly from how terrifyingly good Castiel is at "interrogation".

Ripping people's heads with his bare hands, torturing monsters (even the relatively good ones) to get information about purgatory out of them, being described as even worse than Crowley at carving people out (and that's saying something because Crowley is BAD bad).

It's here when him being an ANGEL really comes into the play. He's almost always the most powerful being in the room, his meek-looking vessel only acting as a decoy for people to brush him off as harmless. But this season really delves into why he was one of Heaven's most decorated soldiers and why it was specifically him who was chosen to lead the siege to hell way back in season 4.

He's a fucking war machine, no wonder everyone's a little afraid of him.

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)

Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".

(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)

He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.

Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.

"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"

Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.

To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.

So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.

But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.

He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.

Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.

Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.

They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.

And it's all him.

Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.

This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.

But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.

He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.

Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.

And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.

Speaking of love, let's talk about that!

No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.

And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!

Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?

Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.

He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.

He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.

The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!

He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.

His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".

And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!

He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).

And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?

And of course, as the Bible itself says:

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

(John 15:13)

And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

gabriel ultrakill the character of all time. he spends all his time roasting you and trying to kick you out of hell while seemingly not caring about any of the other robots there. he stops whatever hes doing in the middle of a fight every time he wants to deliver a little quip. he gets his ass handed to him so hard that when he goes home all his friends put him on a little stage and take turns calling him a loser. theres a recording of him on the ferrymans boat telling everybody to please remember to practice selfcare. he's done thousands of murders. he keeps people trapped in limbo forever even after theyve recognized heaven. he falls in gay love with a literal war machine. he's so repressed that he thinks that said love is hate. the second time he gets beaten nearly to death he realizes that his biggest problem this whole time was that he was winning too much. he then realizes after this that all of his friends suck and immediately leaves to go murder them. he had hours left to live and spent a not insignificant amount of that time playing the organ and monologuing. he maybe has a blood kink and definitely has the most erotic way of describing killing a robot that ive ever heard

[scribbled-dream]

My opinion on this might change, but:

For those who say HDG is purely psychosexual horror, and the wish fulfillment detracts from the setting, and for those who say the opposite:

They’re making out sloppily.

But for real—the point of the Affini is that they are the direct opposite of the Terran Accord. The Accord wants one story: Humanity under their control, with everyone stripped of their potential for the greater war machine, lives cut short by faulty implants and capitalism.

The Affini are the opposite. We see this time and time again. For every story like Abcission, there’s another like Wellness Check. The Affini do want control—but for them, control means giving Humanity freedom. Freedom to be a needy, Xenodrug adoring Petal, or a witty, deeply romantic Sophont that’s adoring all on their own without coercion, and broken, ruined souls who need xenodrugs and gentle, utterly gentle care to get back on their feet.

The Affini are a future where people can work for the pure enjoyment of serving their community. Of course people who are under the heel of the Accord would be afraid, resist, or fight. Fear is natural.

But for every time I see people decrying the Affini—they forget that the Affini are the closest to heaven Humanity might ever get.

The horror of your body wasting away for a state that despises you—or the potential, existential horror of having a choice—and either shirking it out of terror, or accepting it with an open heart.

The Affini are a haven for so many trans people, disabled people, all telling stories in their own, unique way. The gentle love of the Affini leading to individuality in all but name means so much to me as someone who struggles with disability and mental health.

Thanks for reading!

[criphd]

At the outset of H. G. Wells’s The War of the Worlds (1898), Wells asks his English readers to compare the Martian invasion of Earth with the Europeans’ genocidal invasion of the Tasmanians, thus demanding that the colonizers imagine themselves as the colonized, or the about-to-be-colonized. But in Wells this reversal of perspective entails something more, because the analogy rests on the logic prevalent in contemporary anthropology that the indigenous, primitive other’s present is the colonizer’s own past. Wells’s Martians invading England are like Europeans in Tasmania not just because they are arrogant colonialists invading a technologically inferior civilization, but also because, with their hypertrophied brains and prosthetic machines, they are a version of the human race’s own future.

The confrontation of humans and Martians is thus a kind of anachronism, an incongruous co-habitation of the same moment by people and artifacts from different times. But this anachronism is the mark of anthropological difference, that is, the way late-nineteenth-century anthropology conceptualized the play of identity and difference between the scientific observer and the anthropological subject-both human, but inhabiting different moments in the history of civilization. As George Stocking puts it in his intellectual history of Victorian anthropology, Victorian anthropologists, while expressing shock at the devastating effects of European contact on the Tasmanians, were able to adopt an apologetic tone about it because they understood the Tasmanians as “living representatives of the early Stone Age,” and thus their “extinction was simply a matter of … placing the Tasmanians back into the dead prehistoric world where they belonged” (282-83). The trope of the savage as a remnant of the past unites such authoritative and influential works as Lewis Henry Morgan’s Ancient Society (1877), where the kinship structures of contemporaneous American Indians and Polynesian islanders are read as evidence of “our” past, with Sigmund Freud’s Totem and Taboo (1913), where the sexual practices of “primitive” societies are interpreted as developmental stages leading to the mature sexuality of the West. Johannes Fabian has argued that the repression or denial of the real contemporaneity of so-called savage cultures with that of Western explorers, colonizers, and settlers is one of the pervasive, foundational assumptions of modern anthropology in general. The way colonialism made space into time gave the globe a geography not just of climates and cultures but of stages of human development that could confront and evaluate one another.

The anachronistic structure of anthropological difference is one of the key features that links emergent science fiction to colonialism. The crucial point is the way it sets into motion a vacillation between fantastic desires and critical estrangement that corresponds to the double-edged effects of the exotic. Robert Stafford, in an excellent essay on “Scientific Exploration and Empire” in the Oxford History of the British Empire, writes that, by the last decades of the century, “absorption in overseas wilderness represented a form of time travel” for the British explorer and, more to the point, for the reading public who seized upon the primitive, abundant, unzoned spaces described in the narratives of exploration as a veritable “fiefdom, calling new worlds into being to redress the balance of the old” (313, 315). Thus when Verne, Wells, and others wrote of voyages underground, under the sea, and into the heavens for the readers of the age of imperialism, the otherworldliness of the colonies provided a new kind of legibility and significance to an ancient plot. Colonial commerce and imperial politics often turned the marvelous voyage into a fantasy of appropriation alluding to real objects and real effects that pervaded and transformed life in the homelands. At the same time, the strange destinations of such voyages now also referred to a centuries-old project of cognitive appropriation, a reading of the exotic other that made possible, and perhaps even necessary, a rereading of oneself.

John Rieder, Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction

[shallowrambles]

Oh. Cas’s army plotline was about war. It was about Cas choosing war. That was the tension.

[voidsentprinces]

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.

[s-4pphics]

errrr……. hey…

uhhh this is awkward hey what do we do when we’re grieving? write ab arranged marriages slayyyyyy errrr yeah here’s that see yall next month or year or whatever

—

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone doesn’t waver nor break, voice engulfed in plainness.

It was one of the issues Ellie’s had since your marriage: an act to combine assets initiated by your parents. They never intended to have a daughter — you told Ellie the night of your honeymoon — but when your mother laid eyes on you, warming you with the skin of her chest for the first time, she painted your entire future in her mind. An object. The finest to be drenched and drowned in riches and diamonds, only living under multi-million dollar homes owned by your husband’s family name. Just as long as you played your role. A silent, unopinionated, docile baby-making machine.

Your parents nearly had a heart attack when they found one of your diaries filled with pictures of naked women, either hand drawn or torn from pages of your father’s filthy magazines. Your mother told you she should’ve aborted you, just when you thought you’d finally have a normal birthday party. The heavy breaths of your sobs extinguished the flame above your 18th candle.

But you’re 22 now; fabulously wealthy, married and…

Staring at your wife… plainly, even though the flames in your eyes rages war. The dining table is a battleground and a red dot punctures right through Ellie’s forehead. She’s not sure what you are.

Your marriage was not ideal. Not only was it forced and filled with shame, but Ellie grew resentful rather quickly. Towards the man that brought her into such a shrouded lifestyle, towards the heavens above for cursing her with life, but when she couldn’t attack, she brought it to your bedroom. You suffered, she’ll admit. It only took two weeks into your marriage for her to find an escape through other unassuming women while you laid in your shared bed with a tear-soaked pillow. You never knew when she’d come home, but when she did, she never failed to berate you. It carried on for months, the blame; blaming you for everything that’s happened to her thus far, despite her knowing that you’re a victim just as much as she is. You were her only emotional outlet. Or punching bag.

But despite every torment she threw your way, you never failed to smile at her the next morning with her coffee in your hands.

You always remained silent. Until now.

The delicious meal you prepared has soured on her tongue. All she can do is stare at you in disbelief.

She takes in the polite fold of your hands, 16 carat, rose gold, wedding band still on your ring finger. Her eyes rush over the plumpness of your lips, the delicate curve of your nose, the rise and fall of your chest… the way your breasts expand in your flowery dress with each breath.

Ellie swallows, nearly choking at the sudden dryness in her throat.

“… What?”

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone raises. Not aggressively; that wouldn’t fit you. You wanted her to hear you.

She huffs despite the burning tips of her ears. “I’m sure.” She mocks with a smirk.

Your eyes squint. “I’m not joking.”

“You know who else wasn’t?” She leans across the table, pinning you with her gaze, “Our parents. They don’t give a fuck about what we do and don’t want. We’re lucky they put us together.”

“I…”

Ellie flinches when your voice cracks to a whisper. Never once has the shell you mask yourself in cracked. Not once. Not in front of Ellie, your parents, her family, even strangers. You’ve never failed to put on a dazzling smile for the spectators.

“I want to be in love.” Tears free fall from your eyes and your chin trembles, “There’s no… I don’t have anyone. I never did.”

“I thought we could… at least be friends. I know you didn’t want this, I know — b-but… I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m dying—“

Ellie knows you’re talking about her, and guilt swallows her whole. It’s a shame, really; you’re gorgeous when you cry. Why’s her heart pounding this madly?

“I want someone to treat me like I-I’m alive, no one sees me, I d — don’t feel real —“

Ellie stands when your often assembled appearance begins to crumble. She’s never seen you so shattered, gasping for air like it’s limited. She recognizes this. You’re breaking, just like she did the night before she signed her life over to your family.

“Hey—“

Your seat goes flying back when your heeled feet plant on the marble floor, manicured nails clutching at the skin of your chest raw. She rushes over when your sobs crack, desperately trying to get air in your lungs with pleading and fearful eyes.

“Hey, hey, look at me, c’mon—“

Your fists pound against her chest in between wails, makeup streaking down your face, clumping your fluttery lashes. She calls out to you with hands on your soaked cheeks, tells you to count, to spell your name for her, but you can’t hear. You can’t function. Have you ever been this close?

Ellie curses before her hand flies into the jug filled with sphered ice cubes, shoving them into the side of your neck. They melt instantly from the heat of your skin, but you gasp and flinch from the cold.

“Yeah, feel that? Feels nice? Focus on that.”

Her hand delves into the jug until your jerky breaths calm into spluttered exhales. She’s sure she’s frost bitten.

You’re quiet again. Docile again. Anxious. Embarrassed. Heartbroken. And so fucking angry. Ellie’s getting whiplash looking into your eyes. They’re speckled with gold and… something foreign. She can’t place it. The hand on your cheek swiftly falls to her side.

“You—“ she clears her throat when you wobble, vibrating form pushing up against her, nose almost brushing hers, “You alright?”

But you say nothing, eyes distant. You simply step out of your heels with tightly clenched fists and jostled hair before walking towards the staircase.

“I’m very tired.” You say plainly over your shoulder before trekking up the steps. She watches cautiously until a door slams shut. She, after minutes of gawking at the staircase, takes in the scenery around her. Everything is where it should be… minus your plate is cold and untouched. But your wine glass is empty. She's not sure where the bottle is. Since when do you drink?

Her mind is unsettled and there’s a stutter in her chest. Your home is silent. A heaviness that weighs her down.

She assumed that the uncomfortable twist in her gut was from her own wrongdoings since your marriage.

Not at all.

Ellie’s concerned. There’s something off about you.

More off than usual.

[cerastes]

I still think it's really cool how Amuro starts as the shittiest pilot alive (because he's a 15-year old) that only gets carried because he's in the biggest, fattest stat stick in-universe at the time (a few retroactive additions made in the future notwithstanding), enough that even its crappy vulcan guns are tearing Zaku IIs apart, and when he starts getting a bit too cocky, Char and Ramba Ral show up in objectively inferior pieces of junk and absolutely deliver his pizza, they just drag his face across every available surface in Planet Earth like he's a Yakuza mook, all because they are simply that much better at piloting, and the thing is, Amuro takes that very seriously.

He goes from shitass kid in an unfortunate situation that doesn't want to get in the robot to the most unwell child soldier in the war, which is really saying something, but most importantly, becomes so good at piloting the Gundam that the Gundam physically cannot handle Amuro's piloting. They need to apply "Magnetic Coating" to its joints so they don't fucking snap away from the main frame because Amuro, one, moves too damn well but also in too extreme a way for the frame to handle it, two, despite being equipped with two sabers, a shield, a beam rifle and vulcan guns, Amuro is a stern believer in introducing most everyone in thagomizer range to his Rated Z for Zeon hands, the single most official pair of hands in the business, tax free. He KEEP going Ip Man on these dudes, he does NOT need to do a Jamestown on these mother fuckers but he INSISTS. Somehow even the Gundam Hammer, which is a giant Hannah Barbera cartoon flail-- Ok, look at this thing, words do not do it justice

Even this god damn Tom and Jerry prop is less savage that whatever Amuro decides to do the moment he's done throwing his shield to get a free kill on someone and it officially becomes bed time forever for the unfortunate sap at the business end of his ten-finger weapons of mass destruction.

The RX-78-2, "Gundam" for its friends and family, even has a top of the line cutting edge Learning Computer that 'learns' alongside the pilot and their habits. This data extracted from it was so absolutely fucked up that it completely revolutionized Mobile Suit combat afterwards, which is a wholesome thing to think about when The Best Combat Data Ever came from a really angry, really stressed 15 year old that doesn't even like piloting. He was 15! He made Haro with his own hands! Amuro literally just wanted to make funny cute spherical robofriends! Amuro was out there trying to make Kirby real, but fate had other plans for him. His cloned brain put in a pilot seat is one of the setting's strongest 'pilots'.

They made fucking Shadow the Hedgehog with his brain, god damn.

By the end, Zeon is rolling out Gelgoogs out of its mass production lines. These things are in the Gundam's ballpark in terms of overall specs (or "power level"). Amuro is bodying them as if they were episode 1 Zaku IIs.

AND THEN HE GETS FUCKING PSYCHIC SPACE POWERS. Not that he needed them, he bodied a couple Space Psychics without any of those powers before awakening to them. But heaven's most violent child was not done evolving, whether he liked it or not.

Char bodied him in a souped up Zaku II at the start, a machine objectively inferior to the Gundam. Amuro more or less one-sidedly beats the shit out of Char when he's in a custom Commander-type Gelgoog that you could consider to be equal spec-wise to the Gundam. Amuro is the embodiment of Finding Out. He is Consequences. You tell him he better make it hurt, better make it count, better kill you in one shot, buddy, he needs half a fucking shot. The complete transformation. One could consider the central 75% of the show as long drawn out training montage turning a kid into the Geese Howard of giant robots.

[probablyasocialecologist]

We search for God on this land. Theologically, philosophically, we ask: Where is God when we suffer? How do we explain his silence? But away from philosophy and existential questions. In this land, even God is a victim of oppression, death, the war machine, and colonialism. We see the Son of God on this land crying out the same question on the cross: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why do you let me be tortured? Crucified? God suffers with the people of this land, sharing the same fate with us. As Mitri Al-Raheb wrote in his article “Theology in the Palestinian Context,” which appeared in an Arabic book I edited: “As for the God of this land, he is not like all the gods... His land is plowed with iron... His temples are destroyed by fire ... His people are trampled underfoot, and He does not move a muscle. The God of this earth is hidden from view. You search for His traces but do not see them. You long for Him to split the heavens and come down to see. To listen, to be compassionate, to be saved. The God of this land does not repel brutal armies, but rather shares one fate with his people. His house is demolished. His son is crucified. But his mystery does not perish. Rather, he rises from the ashes, and with the refugees you see him. He walks, and in the dark of the night he raises springs of hope. Without this God, Palestine remains a scorched land ... it remains a field of destruction. But if God tramples its foundations, he will only make it a holy land, a land in whose hills the good news of peace resounds.” Beloved, in these difficult times let us comfort ourselves with God’s presence amid pain, and even amid death, for Jesus is no stranger to pain, arrest, torture, and death. He walks with us in our pain. God is under the rubble in Gaza. He is with the frightened and the refugees. He is in the operating room. This is our consolation. He walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death.

[rotdistressxox]

Headcanons: How the Kengan Men would fall asleep with you

Ohma Tokita

• Takes A LOT of convincing to get him to go to bed on time because he usually naps during the day and whenever he feels like it

• But he caves in because you just look so cute in a t-shirt and underwear

• Sleeps in boxer briefs, maybe pajama pants if it's a cooler night. Always shirtless, but you're not complaining

• Hates to admit it, but he loves being spooned. Having your arms wrapped around his waist and your chest pressed into his back just hits the spot.

• Cradle him in your chest and play with his hair, the dude will be knocked out instantly

• Teasing a sleepy Ohma is the best because he has no power over you now. Baby talk it is

• "You sleepy baby?" "Mmgn" "That's okay, go to sleep" "Mmhm" "Good boy"

• Twitches in his sleep, be warned

• He wakes you up because he makes noises sometimes due to his nightmares.

• Give him a peck on the cheek, he'll shut up real fast.

• Is your personal space heater, his body is usually very warm when he's resting (Apart from when he's fighting...and doing something else)

Lihito / Ichiro Nakata

• Boy is he happy, would never miss out on a chance to snuggle up to you.

• He has matching pajamas, you gotta snort at him everytime he whips them out

• Other than that, usually wears a t-shirt and pajama pants

• Socks stay ON

• Handsy, rests his hands on your butt to warm them up. You squeal everytime he grabs it and all he can do is give a shit-eating grin

• Usually takes him a while to actually fall asleep, so he'll just stay up on his phone or talking to you. While you are actually trying to fall asleep

• Falling asleep on his chest boosts his ego a little. Feels extra manly, yknow?

• Likes to hear the sound of your soft breaths, thinks it's utterly adorable.

• Finally falls asleep after taking in every detail of your sleeping face

Raian Kure

• "Sleep is for the weak"

• You have to coax him into bed with neck kisses galore and praise. Man is a sucker for praise

• Metal Band T-shirt and trunks are his usual attire. Loves it when you wear his shirts to sleep, too

• Is the big spoon

• His big vieny arms wrapped around you as you softly massage them. That's basically heaven to him.

• Tucks you into his side if he's not spooning, cranes his head to rest on yours.

• Commands you to go to sleep before he does.

• He feels extra vulnerable with you in his arms and wants to make sure you are alright.

• Anyone walks in while you and him are trying to sleep, consider them good as dead.

• Without waking you up, he'll gently pull you in to kiss the top of your head before he falls into a deep slumber.

• Good luck trying to wake him up.

Gaolang Wongsawat

• Is usually the one telling you to go to bed.

• Drags you away from whatever you're doing despite your whines and protests.

• Wears a nice silk robe when he's finishing up nightly duties before taking it off. Then it's a tanktop and some baggy pants.

• Strips the tanktop off if it gets too hot.

• Some nights he falls right asleep, others he stays up reading until he can.

• Before he even thinks about closing his eyes, he whispers an 'I love you' and kisses either your forehead, cheek, or lips.

• Sleeps on his back

• It's basically muscle memory if you snuggle into his side, his arm immediately wraps around you.

• Soft snores, not loud enough to wake you, but just enough to giggle at.

• Bed head in the morning is a sight to behold, especially if the person with the bed head is the Thai God of War

Yoroizuka Saw Paing

• SLEEP! HELL YEAAAHHHH

• You have to tell him to calm down because he won't be able to sleep if he's too excited for his next fight

• You've gotten used to him sleeping naked at this point, sometimes he'll just sleep in his usual shorts, or if you're luck, boxers

• He's tried to convince you from time to time to sleep naked, and sometimes it's worked... but you're usually the clothed one.

• a HEAT MACHINE I TELL YA. Sometimes it gets too much and you just throw off the blanket you share altogether.

• Snores sometimes, have a pair of earplugs on the nightstand just incase.

• As soon as you think he won't go to sleep, he does

• Looks like a dork while doing so

• He usually ends up halfway off of the bed in the weirdest pose ever.

Kanoh Agito

• Takes sleep very seriously

• Has a whole nighttime routine actually, he's incorporated you into it as well, consider yourself honored.

• Wears a satin button-up and boxers

• Smells amazing when he climbs into bed because he showers right before.

• The bed quite literally sinks because of his size and weight, so you obviously know which side is yours and which side is his.

• Needs you to talk to him in order for him to go to sleep. He used to stay wide awake until his body did a manual shut off. But then you came, and it's like music to his ears to hear you talk in a sweet, sleepy voice. Which soothes him right to sleep

• Asks you to hum some songs to ease his nerves.

• Yeah, he's a huge teddy bear.

• Didn't know what a goodnight kiss was until you did it. It's apart of his routine now to get a goodnight kiss, even though he didn't ask for one.

• Depending on the mood he's in, a goodnight kiss can be a peck on the forehead, or a passionate kiss on the lips. You can gauge between the 2.

• If he ends up on top of you in the morning, do not attempt to push him off. It will NOT work

Wakatsuki Takeshi

• He's a middle aged man, sleep is like vacation to him at this point.

• Won't drag you to bed with him, but makes it a good point to give you a reason to.

• "Come on sweetheart, I know you're tired"

• T-shirt and pajama pants for his usual attire. He looks damn good in them too.

• HUGE Cuddlebug. Literally, he's 6'4 (193 cm) and weighs 3x then what he should because of his sheer muscle density.

• Tell him if he's crushing you when he's resting ontop, he usually makes sure he doesn't though.

• When he looks up at you while resting his head in the middle of your chest makes your stomach do backflips. The best puppy dog eyes you've ever seen in your life.

• Seeing his usually furrowed and hardened gaze soften makes your heart sinnngggggg

• Softly running your nails over his back, scratching his muscles ever-so-slightly just makes his body untense. He's like puddy in your arms

• You could never worry about monsters under the bed when you've got him.

• Both of you fall asleep in unison. No questions asked