#there's EVEN MORE in the weapon and the B

[fan-kingdoms]

extremely silly epic the musical thought:

so imagine that everything in ithaca has settled down, suitors and families dealt with, kingdom up and running, etc. now that there isn’t an active crisis in the country, athena has to return to her usual godly duties and can’t be around all the time— she still drops in to train telemachus and check on the general state of affairs, but she can’t Always be on ithaca when she has an entire domain to rule over/business on olympus. so she comes by less often, which telemachus is obviously very sad about (she is kind of his only friend, after all)

and now imagine athena, who obviously cares about telemachus very much (and is well acquainted with his not-so-subtle abandonment issues), deciding to leave a token with him to comfort him during her absences. so she tames an owl for him, a beautiful barn owl with a massive wingspan and honey-colored feathers, because of course her student/friend deserves nothing but the best

(more under the cut bc i care for your dash)

athena gives the owl to telemachus so A. he has a loyal animal companion again (he���s been down ever since argos passed) and B. so he knows that athena might be away from ithaca, but she’s never really gone, she’s still with him

telemachus is overjoyed and he names her after one of athena’s many epithets: Acraea, meaning “of the heights” (yes, because she’s a bird. he’s not the most creative prince on the planet). and he absolutely ADORES this owl. takes her everywhere with him— to the marketplaces, on the royal hunting grounds, she even sits on the arm of his chair while he and his parents hold court. no one sees telemachus without seeing acraea perched on his forearm, or on his shoulder, or even plopping down right on his head when his arms are busy (he looks especially silly like that, average-sized prince with a very large bird roosting in his hair, but no one would dare to tell him. not because he is the prince, but because he looks so entirely happy that they don’t want to ruin it)

so everyone knows about telemachus’s (very large, very beautiful) owl friend acraea

at this point— after the trojan war, the slaughtering of the suitors, athena’s odyssey-canon appearance in order to stop more bloodshed— it’s common knowledge on ithaca that athena favors the royal family. the bards sing about odysseus’s patron all the time, and telemachus is the heir to the throne.

so now imagine. that the wires got crossed somewhere and now the entirety of ithaca thinks prince telemachus is casually carrying the goddess of wisdom around on his arm.

it all makes sense— it’s very clearly a special bird, with its size and the way its feathers seem to glitter in the light, it is attached to the ithaca royal family (it sits court with them! it must be advising them!), and it literally has one of athena’s names. that has to be it, right? right??

and one day at the market telemachus notices that more people are bowing to him than usual. as the prince, he’s used to signs of respect, but he always considered himself friendly and approachable. one of the fishermen even kneeled to him as he walked past, isn’t that strange? and when one of the guards asked him to come over to the armory and help take stock of their weapons he seemed to direct his eyes at acraea when he said “if that’s alright with you.” at first telemachus thinks it’s an odd series of coincidences, until one day a servant who came to his room to deliver a message bowed to his owl before even addressing him

and on one hand telemachus wants to immediately clear up this misunderstanding so people will stop being weird to him (and his owl) again. on the other hand, the opportunity to royally fuck with the entire island is just too good to pass up and who knows, athena might find it funny

so he starts talking to acraea more often and more loudly, publicly asking her for advice and pretending to consult with her before he makes a decision. he has her fly beside him more often to show off her wings, and best of all, he brings owl treats with him everywhere to see the look on people’s faces when they see him feeding “athena” a treat and telling her to behave. odysseus is mildly concerned that using athena’s image like this might offend some god and cause them more issues all over again. penelope thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

TLDR: athena gifts telemachus an insanely pretty owl so he doesn’t miss her too much post-odyssey and now all of ithaca is convinced that telemachus’s emotional support animal is actual literal athena

[lovekabaneri]

Mini Magnus in Mecha AU

A fun idea I had for the TF Mecha AU by @keferon.

So, at least in my version of the storyline, Optimus is still the leader of the bots and Shockwave is a mad scientist on Earth with absolutely no morals and acting like a b-movie villain. So, no plotline with Shockwave and OP being friends BUT I started thinking about other characters and then another idea hit me: What about Ultra Magnus?

The pilot of Ultra Magnus is a dwarf human and the Magnus armor is the biggest and heaviest mech humanity has managed to build. It is even more armed and powerful than Vortex and the pilot is… just this tiny, mustachioed Italian man. It would be quite the shocker for everyone, since Magnus is not stationed in the same base as the main cast and he's mostly protecting Washington and is called only for emergencies.

Ultra Magnus is not only one of the oldest mechs but also considered a legend, since it has been protecting USA for so long and has never fallen in combat. Imagine the marketing team using pictures of Magnus and saying stuff like "The invincible mecha!" or "Ultra Magnus - proof of humanity's infallible spirit!" but never actually shared pictures of UM's pilot. So, naturally everyone imagines a classical American movie hero, a jock with square chin, to be piloting the biggest mech ever. But actually because the mech has become something of a mascot, like Blurr is the face of the pilots, the Ultra Magnus mech is always getting new improvements and is always equipped with the latest heavy weapons the R&D has released, so despite being one of the first mechs UM is actually very modern... and a b!tch to pilot because of all the new stuff they always put in!

They never show the pilot not only not to hurt the image of the "Infallible Mech" by attaching a human face with flaws to it, but because like Vortex, UM has changed several pilots during the years. Not as often as Vortex, mind you, but because of the strain of a single person driving UM, there always are health complications after prolonged use. The first Magnus died after fending off a lot of aliens from Washington on his own and defeated them all, but was brought to the hospital afterwards and died due to the link overloading his brain and causing bleeding. After him, all other pilots lasted around a year, year and half before their worsening health forced them to retire or they up and died! That is... Until 3 years before the "Jazz lost in space" fiasco.

Minimus is a dwarf, his family came from Italy when he was young, around 20 or more years pre-invasion. He though he'd have to work a desk job or take over his father's pottery business, but then the invasion happened and his home was destroyed in the first attack, his mother died. He wanted revenge, since after that his family almost fell apart, but due to his... stature, his enlistment was denied multiple times and eventually became a cook for the Washington base. He got lucky, however, when they were desperate to find new pilot for Magnus and accepted literally any applicant, as long as they were already employed in said base and signed the NDA for UM's secret. He had done both, so he was accepted for the trial runs. Everyone laughed but then that darf, that tiny mustachioed Italian, not only made the UM armor move but his compatibility was the best of the applicants! Obviously, the higher-ups didn't want to let him do it, but eventually relented, since they had no one better and needed a pilot for an upcoming event!

That's how Minimus became the pilot for Magnus mech and has held the position for the longest time(3 years), after the original Magnus (4 years), at least up to the point where Jazz is yeeted through an alien portal.

I imagined the eventual reveal of who pilots UM would be kind of like Minimus' reveal in the comics but with a dwarf human! So, everyone expects some tough guy, then human Minimus pops out of UM like a rat with his gorgeous, bushy moustache and starts scolding everyone about discipline with a deep voice and doing the signature 🤏 Italian hand gesture as he's shouting. Both humans and cybertronians would be shocked!

Just imagine this absolute unit of a mech, even taller than Prime and Vortex, comes with lumbering steps and the pilot is this *tiny* human! The bots thought humans were tiny, then they see Minimus, who is definitely under 150cm and are like "You humans also have Miniboths?!".

[joeloverture]

ok, more on this because apparently i have to say all of this. if responding to it makes the hate worse i honestly could not give less of a fuck about it than i already do. i am here to express myself so u best believe that is what my ass will be doing!!

this is gonna be a bit long and a bit winded bc ive been keeping this close to my chest for a while.

i genuinely don't fucking write for an audience. if i was writing for an audience you'd have never seen me post fair's fair. you'd have never seen me writing flesh currency! i write what i want. when i'm horny. when i want to make other people horny (i guess?). when i feel like it. when im healthy enough to do it.

no my fics are not the magnum opus. no they arent being strung up in the goddamn louvre. that isnt what im trying to do. i juice joy out of my fanfic writing and am KIND enough to put it on the internet for others to enjoy if they so wish. nobody is holding you at gunpoint to read my "shit writing".

fanfic writers either dont post enough or they post too much you really, really gotta pick one.

i spent like 5 months on hiatus in debilitating pain and was in and out of the hospital for a few weeks out of those months. i couldnt even write a goddamn diary entry. you have no idea how happy i am to have my creative voice back.

its... my winter break. of fucking course im writing lol i dont have anything else to do!!!! there's nothing else id rather be doing because i actually like this!

id rather write as a hobby than crank out anon hate, personally. maybe that's a me issue?

then, a bit more on identity and the role of identity in all of this

ive had to start counting the amount of anons i get with hateful slurs in them. since coming back i've been called the r slur. the f slur. the c slur. the b slur. everything in the fucking book. not only is it uncreative, its regressive.

y'all either dont like me because im annoying or blatantly showing autistic traits or outspoken abt being marginalized or bc you dislike my writing or because you have absolutely nothing better to do (the latter of which is particularly pathetic)

regardless you are weaponizing my identity to either try to terrorize me in general or drive me off of this site. think about how weird that is.

also so many of these asks are laden with an undercurrent of ableism. like, oh my god, the disabled girl is posting a lot ! woah! holy shit! call the fucking news outlets!

oh my god, the disabled girl is showing autism traits on main!!!! should we call autism speaks? should we invite sia?

this isnt even me defending myself, i feel no obligation to defend myself against these fuckers. i just did want to arrange my thoughts for the dash. sometimes talking helps me compose that sort of thing.

[uboat53]

Dude, the more I read about the movement to "punish Democrats" over their support for Israel in Gaza, the more it just reads like an exercise in mass delusion. SHORT RANT (TM)?

First of all, the amount of people who claim that Harris wasn't willing to call for a cease-fire... when she actually did. Numerous times. You can look it up, that's a thing she actually did.

Secondly, the people who are upset that Harris and Biden didn't push for an arms embargo against Israel or declare Israel to be in violation of US or international law... they realize that Congress has a veto-proof majority in favor of Israel, right? Don't get me wrong, I also think that Israel violated US and international law, but if Biden/Harris had tried to cut off the supply of weapons the most likely outcome would have been for Congress to override his decision and his veto, supply the weapons anyways, and destroy any leverage that the president may have had over the leaders of Israel.

Finally, the people who genuinely think that Trump's policy would be more positive for Gazans than Biden/Harris's... I mean, I have no idea how you reach this level of delusion. This is a man who openly declared that his policy was to "let Israel finish the job". This is a man who is appointing (as he promised during the campaign!) Evangelical Christians who believe in Israel's right to control the entirety of the Levant and expel or otherwise eliminate the "other" population to key positions. This is a man whose calls to "end the war", which were apparently taken as commitments to peace by some in this movement, were clearly calls to finish the genocide.

Yes, the father-in-law of one of his children is a Lebanese Christian and has been appointed to a minor advisory position and some of his surrogates definitely went to the Islamic communities of Midwest/rust-belt states and made promises to those communities that were at odds with what the candidate actually said, but it beggars belief to think that any reasonable person would believe such a thing. When someone tells you a candidate thinks one thing and the candidate themselves says they think another thing, one of those people is definitely lying and I think it's reasonable to say that the candidate probably has a better handle on what they actually think and, ultimately, will more likely be held to what they actually said.

And look, I get it, the pro-Palestinian movement was/is desperate, tens of thousands have died already and millions more are still in mortal danger, but retreating into fantasies and delusions is only going to make a bad situation even worse. Biden/Harris may not have been making a particularly public push for peace, but Trump is going to stop even the behind-the-scenes pressure that was happening. Biden/Harris may not have called for a ban on weapons transfers to Israel, but Trump will push for more weapons. Harris DID publicly and repeatedly call for a cease-fire, Trump will not.

Ultimately, though, the reason why Harris didn't do what they demanded is that (a) her opponent was (much) more extreme but also (b) the American public is overwhelmingly pro-Israel. Yes, Americans have approved of Israel's conduct in this conflict less than in previous conflicts, but the amount of Americans saying Israel is taking the right approach or even hasn't gone far enough is still roughly equal to the number saying it's gone too far. Yes, Americans overwhelmingly don't have faith in Netanyahu and are concerned about the war expanding, but only about a quarter of Americans want the US to take a major role in diplomacy and two-thirds see a last peace as unlikely. No matter how much pressure small groups brought to bear, they were never going to force Harris to take positions that were so far outside the mainstream of American politics.

Unfortunately, the pro-Palestinian movement was trying to fight against decades and hundreds of billions of dollars worth of pro-Israeli influence on public opinion in the space of only a few months; frankly the level of success they've had is amazing. Equally unfortunately, though, the inability to change American politics in such a short time has made them retreat to magical thinking which will ultimately hurt the people they are trying to help.

This is an object lesson in effective activism here, people. Pressure is most effective when it's directed at someone you support and sustained over a long time. Note that "someone you support" part in there, you'll be much more effective at influencing someone's policy AFTER you vote for them than before. In fact, the most effective way of pursuing activism is to get sympathetic politicians into office and then push them to go further in your direction by offering even greater support if they do.

Voting against your own interests is a quick path to irrelevance. Democratic strategists are not sitting around today wishing they'd gone further in opposing Israeli actions, they're writing off Arab-Americans as a voting group that they need to focus appeals on and strategizing to appeal to other groups instead, and Republican strategists have figured out they can get Arab-American votes (or at least get them to sit out the election) without having to give them anything at all. Meanwhile, Gazans will pay the price as Netanyahu continues a campaign that can only be referred to as genocide while also instigating conflict after conflict in the greater region, all with the full support and even encouragement of the US administration.

Normally this is the point where I'd say of Trump voters that they deserve to get what he's going to bring them, but ultimately it won't be them that are directly hurt by Trump's actions, it will be the people of Gaza and the broader Middle East. Given that I can't wish that upon an innocent population but that I have very little if any ability to stop what is coming, I hope that, at least, those who voted for Trump out of frustration with Harris/Democrats are able to pause, take a deep breath, and study how American politics actually works.

Arab-Americans are a fast-growing group in the United States, and particularly so in key swing states. They deserve to have their ideas and policy preferences reflected in American politics and heard in the national debate. Hopefully, though, they can figure out how to wield their influence effectively before those who want to silence their views are able to sideline them completely.

Anyways, if you're interested in the piece that got me thinking about this, here you go. Those three delusions at the beginning aren't exaggerations by the way, they're actual statements quoted in the piece from leaders of the larger movement.

[catras-breakup-song]

i’ve found more (separate) examples btw (check other reblogs), it’s literally insane how people will unironically claim catra was worse than the universal big bads.

definitely not misogyny, lesbophobia, racism, cluster-B stimatization, or abuse victim-blaming, though. and i don’t even like the weaponization of those accusations but the comparisons speak for themselves.

of course catra 🐜is will always hate her but love zuko, they literally think she's worse than hordak and probably prime too 💀

edit: i really should've reblogged with an addition instead but i'm referring to this post (mostly)

[truetgirl]

Been getting back into FEH a bit lately and uuuuuuh

Intsys what the screaming shit-stained fuck is this???

[grecoromanyaoi]

idk how it is in other countries but I think one of the most. idk how to phrase this. politically present? problems mandatory drafting causes is that since most ppl were likely to have been soldiers in the past, present or future and so do all of their loved ones is that many refuse to even take the first step which is recognizing that being a soldier, serving and being part of an army is, in itself, an act, and that it’s not a neutral act in any way shape or form

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[phoenixcatch7]

If there's one thing I like more than time travel it's crossover reincarnation, so.

Botk link reincarnated as Damian Wayne.

An incredible weapon master of all types, but especially prodigious with a sword - he was beating knights at the age of 4 and with his memories as intact as they get for him I can see that goalpost moving even further (probably with traps and tricks, a 3yo doesn't exactly have great bodily control).

He's an excellent survivalist, agile, strong, durable, cunning and creative. He can move like a feather in the breeze, strike from behind with ease. His first kill, an animal, did not stir him as it did the other children. With his poise, grace, skills, obedience, he ought to be ra'as' finest assassin in the making, a jewel in the crown of the league.

Except he never speaks a word. Half his targets escape unscathed. He skates by true punishment on the merit of his skills and achievements in other missions. Testing has shown it is not a physical deformity that prevents his speech, but not even talia has been able to coaxe a word from him past his second birthday.

It is a defect ra'as is growing more and more frustrated by, as each attempt to fix these two final flaws ends in resounding failure. Less extreme solutions are running dry.

Talia fears those solutions. Her child does too, she knows. For them, there is a possible solution, more extreme than anything ra'as would tolerate.

She sends him out of the league. To his father.

To Gotham.

[aristoteliancomplacency]

German leftists are so incapable of separating Judaism and Israel that their heads practically explode when Israel does something bad, and then they end up stickering over a sticker than just says ‘free Palestine’ with a fucked up sticker saying ‘antifa means supporting Israel’ and think they’re somehow still leftist.

Like imagine your supposed principles being so malleable and your critical thinking so lacking that when a notably really right wing government commits genocide you have to pretend that’s compatible with antifascism because you can’t conceive of Israel as separate to Judaism.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

honorarily: blade gunnblade's gunblade, akd glimpse in rehearsal ft. the other blade (sword), & no context blade (name) note

[zwei-rhunen]

why is it so difficult to find out how to make sephirot's weapons glow lmao

i stumble upon their true name while googling around OUT OF SHEER LUCK LMAO

they're not "sephirotic", they're "of the fiend". that's so un-intuitive.

why isn't this mentioned anywhere in-game.

the ITEM DESCRIPTION for sephirotic would be a great place!

this was so annoying to figure out smh

and it turns out, you dont even need?? the extreme weapon drops???

h u h????????

i mean, that's cool that's so accessible and all, i'm happy for that, but also - that don't make no sense to me... that fight was pretty challenging.... what do u mean, you can't also get the glowy version from that???? lmao?????? or, idk, make the extreme drop have a different colored glow. something.

/confusion

[howthesleeplesswander]

[ EXTRA ]:    sender hands the receiver a spare weapon during a fight to give them a better chance after they break or lose their own.

from khioniya, for childe. during their own- friendly! -fight. & she's handing him her weapon to carry on trying to beat her ass with lmao.

if this doesn't work for childe pls ignore it!

Things done while sparring/fighting | Accepting!

((hooOOHOOOOO you have NO IDEA how feral childe imMEDIATELY was as soon as this popped up in my inbox asdlfkdj HE'S SO EXCITED TO GET HIS ASS KICKED LETS GOOOOOO 👀👀👀😎))

Long had Childe hungered to challenge the Archon who he so loyally served.

It was a secret desire, easily disguised by insatiable bloodlust towards any and all who dared stand as his opposition. More than that: it was his ultimate goal. The marker by which he would measure his greatest success...or his distance from achieving it.

For what greater strength could he possibly achieve than the almighty Tsaritsa herself? If Childe could defeat her, he would finally earn the right to be called the strongest warrior in all of Teyvat.

And yet, he'd never imagined Her Majesty would agree so easily. Treat it so casually. As they sparred the Abyss howled in every fiber of his being: ravenous and angry.

Was a friendly little spar all she thought of his power? As if this were some triviality, as if he didn't even stand a chance—?

He would prove his might. He would prove it if it left him bloodied, broken, reduced to a canvas of wounds and viscera painting stone floors—

A clattering echo rang through the halls of Zapolyarny Palace: the sound of his Vision skidding across the floor, cleaved from his belt with one elegant strike. Childe barely heard it over the roaring in his veins. Separated from their power source, the twin blades he clutched shuddered and dismantled, water sluicing through his fingers into a puddle at his feet. But the Tsaritsa did not persist. She did not take advantage of the opening to end this like he knew she could. Instead, her red-tinged image vibrated at the cadence of his feral heart as she paused to hand over her weapon.

Howling fury amplified tenfold. Notes of it colored the breathless, near maniacal laugh that poured from a grin filled with teeth.

"Why thank you, Your Majesty—but I'm afraid I can't accept you going easy on me." Purple light spilled from inside his coat and illuminated the animosity in dull eyes. Slowly, a wash of black slithered over his clothes, and in a burst of violet, he brandished the blade of a lightning-forged spear at the most powerful being in the world.

"I'll win this battle with my own strength." There was no hesitation. No fear. Only promise as he leapt back into the fight with wild and gleeful abandon.

[bubblewater]

I do agree with how the wealthy utilize research and technology to make themselves richer and inhibiting access to innovative technologies that would improve the commonfolk’s quality of life and how that plays into the political field of innovation and implementation of new ideas

But when was Mel looking at Viktor like a bug??? I don’t think she’s ever expressed hatred for him at all.

Sorry but It's actually so annoying how much people downplay the crucial role piltover's corrupt council games played in derailing jayce/viktor's work and pretty much putting shackles around their lives. The council is directly responsible for and directly FUNDING so much of the misery that happens in this show, before the story has even started. Before Powder ever finds the gemstone. They single-handedly doom half of the region to death.

Just during the show: Jayce wanted to create magic to aid and uplift the common people, the council wanted trade route instant teleportators to make themselves richer.

Jayce & Viktor wanted to work on technology to help miners and steelworkers and artisans who are trying to survive in the industrial hellscape of piltover and zaun; the council wants it shelved for another 20 years. (yes, heimer is part of the corrupt council - no matter how much his image is laundered by the fandom.)

They are inept and self-serving leaders, elected by themselves and their blood inheritances, utterly obsessed with ultimate profit. You can really see how parasitic their relationship is to the people at the beggining of act 1. Jayce is a token nameless life, so disposable to them that they were going to burn down all of his research and throw out all of his titles, making him not just a lower-house vassal but an EXILE, and the only reason why that doesn't happen is because they realize how much money they can suck out of his work.

This applies to Viktor too. See the way that Heimerdinger tells him over and over again that no other paths can be taken, he has 'fulfilled his purpose' and he should be content to die. See how Mel looks at Viktor like a bug she wants to squash under her palm when he rejects the idea of making weapons for council. See how they speak over him and only address Jayce, as if he's worth less than nothing.

You are only as valuable as the profit you're willing to create. You are a problem that has to be dealt with as soon as you refuse their orders. They have the power to ruin your life, and if they find an excuse, they will. This is a direct threat pointed at Jayce & Viktor during ACT2, when Jayce is pressured into becoming one of them to protect 'the bottom line profit' and, personally speaking, to avoid that ire being redirected towards Viktor. He's pushed into compliance and told a target has been painted on his back.

Arcane jayvik are doomed in big part not for wanting to do harm, but being forced to exist under the beck and call of billionaire leeches. They are both immigrants. They are both struggling to get a degree and keep themselves afloat and they want to help people so goddamn much but they have to keep postponing their dreams to serve uncaring masters. I really wish there was more fan content focused on these very real bonds of understanding and solidarity between them.

When Viktor says 'Jayce will understand' that's not a fluke; he's lived in this environment for years. He knows Jayce is being pushed down the same way that he is and that deep down they've been kept captive by the exact same people. When Jayce agrees that Viktor should do whatever he needs to do to keep himself alive, he means that from the heart.

[blackvahana]

Last post lmfao. I'm learning shit about myself tonight

I already talk about how Grey is terrifying to people, how he's progress and science even when it's fucked up, how he'll absolutely experiment on himself including surgery and shit, and how he's in my mind like the father of humanity's persistence hunting in that he will pursue you or any goal he has in mind and you can run and scream and run and run but he will always catch you in the end

The fucking. Image of him in the crystalline halls - obviously translated to human memory because I'm seeing him in vaguely human shape in a literal crystal..... It's not even surprising me. It's not even odd. It's not even a long forgotten memory of a past self I'm like "woah I was like that??" about. that's what I'm learning about myself lmfao

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”