but not against them

10

Don’t forget Gorillaz fans, Jamie Hewlett exist! He made all you’re favorite band members come to life in the music videos, shorts, ect! He continues drawing them countless times and works day and night to give you new content with the band members! So please appreciate him!!! ❤❤❤

It’s ironic that the two most popular ships in pjo are solangelo and percabeth bc one is an amazingly developed relationship that formed as a result of years of friendship and bonding through teamwork and the other is solangelo

Look at this smol baby smiling because of a fanboy screaming his name. I FUCKING CAN’T.

update: I saw some tweets saying that person was screaming KiHyun’s name but you can’t really hear it well, but whatever, still look at his fucking smile, he’s enjoying it.

nevermind, @tiny-nerd63 told me he’s really screaming JooHeon-ah SO LET’S BE HAPPY LIKE HIM.

IF JOOHEON IS HAPPY I’M HAPPY OKAY.


MUST. PRO.TECT.

I actually believe what became of Narti cemented my conviction that Lotor and the generals were incredibly close.

Because Lotor was put in a situation where, from his perspective, the only way to get forward and escape, to get to any kind of safe house and have it stay a safe house, was to get rid of Narti, and…

Doing so broke him. It broke the generals, it broke everything Lotor built and operated on.

We have watched Zarkon kill off his subordinates all the time. Every time he does, like clockwork, the empire just calmly soldiers onward. Some new person moves in to fill the vacancy, sometimes within seconds. This works, because Zarkon has no real emotional attachment to any of those people. They’re all just tools to him. He doesn’t care about them. What’s Prorok, Throk, the captain from s1e1 and the druid cut down in season 2 who we didn’t even know the names of? They’re just bodies, and Zarkon throws them to the cause or throws them away without any consideration for them as people.

Lotor- who has the most powerful enemies one possibly can have in this setting, who is incredibly cautious, who builds everything off of anticipating his enemies and positioning himself to profit however someone acts- had no backup plan, had no contingency, had nothing to respond to a betrayal from the level of the generals.

(Because Narti wouldn’t betray him, because that’s not who she is as a person, but Narti was in the wrong place at the wrong time and Haggar somehow exploited her)

Because literally a single loss destroyed everything Lotor built. Because the threshold between “on top of the world” and “desperate” was literally one person.

If Lotor was like Zarkon, if Lotor was cold- Narti wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have surrounded himself with people who were profoundly haunted at that loss. And yes, we see Lotor putting a stoic face on the aftermath- but we see the same thing of Acxa, who clearly took the loss of Narti incredibly personally given she ultimately chooses to betray Lotor for Narti.

We see Lotor hurt himself to escape handcuffs, and this is his first direct act against the other three surviving generals. This is not a subtle metaphor. For Lotor, turning on his subordinates is directly comparable to, and equated with, dislocating his shoulders painfully.

Narti wasn’t Lotor throwing someone away. Narti was, for Lotor, the equivalent of amputating a limb in the middle of the woods with no anesthetic to escape a trap. The takeaway isn’t “oh, you weren’t really using that arm, it didn’t matter to you.” The takeaway is “you were that desperate not to be caught, that you destroyed something that you not only cared about but relied on and quite frankly, you’ll probably never be the same again.”

Just because Lotor’s got a metaphorical tourniquet now doesn’t mean he’s okay.

lunylovegoodlover  asked:

Hi! I just wanted to say that I'm absolutely blown away by your gods & monsters series. I've loved Greek myths for a long time, and I'm really impressed by how you include details of the original stories in your version. After loving her as a kid, I was really bummed to learn that Athena acted as the primary upholder of the patriarchy - if you're taking prompts, would you consider writing something about her? Either way, thanks for writing such an amazing series and sharing it with us!

She believes that she was born without the ability to feel love, that she is destined by the circumstances of her birth to be cold and emotionless and alone.

Bursting from the skull of Zeus, she was borne neither from passion nor love. Neither conceived her and so she can conceive neither. Pallas Athena is born fully grown, steel-eyed and iron strong. Athena is born, and no one weeps.

~

She has little patience and little love for the rest of her family. Those she is not constantly exasperated by – such as the exuberant twins, Apollo and Artemis’s smiles bright enough to blind – she cannot bear to be around.

Hermes is wise, but greedy, and she won’t stand his avarice. Hephaestus – he’s different, he doesn’t smile often but he has kindness in his eyes and cleverness in his hands. Athena sits beside him in his forge, and he does not avoid her or grow tired of her constant corrections. He takes her criticisms of his work silently, either taking them and reforming his works or ignoring them without giving any sort of explanation. She likes his silences, his large dark eyes, likes the way he built himself better legs instead of trying to get new ones fashioned for him. Zeus could have done it, as could his brothers, but Hephaestus did not ask.

Aphrodite is born as she was, and for a moment Athena thought she would no longer be alone, that she would have a sister of her heart. But Aphrodite is the personification of love and passion, and does not struggle with their absence as Athena does.

Her new sister’s coming is a double blow. The goddess is beloved by all, coveted by all, pursued by all – including Hephaestus. Athena doesn’t believe the loveliest woman in existence will choose a malformed god that does not even have a throne on Olympus, but she is wrong.

The gods compete for her, offer her castles and servants and all manner of extravagant gifts. Ares campaigns the most aggressively for her hand, promising all sorts of things that no sane man would barter.

Hephaestus offers a single copper rose fashioned from his own two hands.

Aphrodite goes home with him. Her throne on Olympus, empty more often than not, becomes adorned with simple copper flowers.

Athena tells herself she did not want him anyway, and forces what’s left of her heart to turn to stone.

~

Medusa is a simple village girl. She has thick black hair she wears in braids, dark skin, and startlingly green eyes. Many call her beautiful, but she does her best to hide it, wearing simple grey dresses and letting no makeup adorn her face, allows not a single glittering necklace around her neck.

She is clever. Her father is a farmer, her mother a midwife, but she thinks she could be more. She becomes a priestess of the goddess Athena where she’s educated by the other priestesses, her now-sisters, Stheno and Euryale.

Her attempts to be plain are not successful for long. She catches the eye of Poseidon, a god so tremendously powerful that her knees shake whenever he looks at her. Medusa does not leave the temple often, terror clutching her heart whenever she catches sight of Poseidon waiting for her at the edge of the village.

She does not go to him. She hopes he will stop waiting.

One day a messenger comes to the temple, sweat soaked and eyes wide. “Priestess Medusa!” he gasps, “please, come with me! My wife – she’s having a difficult birth, the midwife said to come to you. You must help us!”

Medusa wavers. She is not a disciple of Artemis, but her mother trained her well. Theirs is not a large village – if she refuses to help, if she places her fear over this almost-mother’s needs, she is not fit to call herself the priestess of any goddess. “Lead the way,” she says, swallowing down her fear and lifting her skirts to follow the man out of the safety of the temple and into the village.

The birth is long, and hard, and she and the midwife are only partially successful. The mother is saved, but of the two children who grew in her womb only one still breathes. The father thanks her even as he touches the cheek of the babe they could not save, and Medusa tries not to wonder if they would have both lived if she had not hesitated. She does not think so, but knows the possibility will haunter her regardless.

He offers to walk her back, but she declines, unwilling to separate him from his new family, and makes the long walk to the temple alone.

She’s almost there when a man appears, easily walking besides her. His eyes are sea-storm blue and his skin tanned, tall and thick with rippling muscles. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, mouth tilted up that the corner.

Medusa stares, heart in her throat, and can think of nothing to say. So she runs.

She’s on the steps of the temple when a thick arm catches her around the waist. “Not so fast,” Poseidon murmurs, lips dragging against her neck. “We’ve hardly had the opportunity to become acquainted.”

“We can’t,” she says desperately, unwilling to struggle and risk angering him. “We are at a temple of the virgin Athena!”

“Only the steps,” he reaches beneath her skirt, “she won’t mind. It’s all right, isn’t it? You’re such a pretty thing.”

She bites her lips to keep from crying. Poseidon is the god of the sea, and she is merely a mortal woman. “No,” she whispers, sending up one last plea to her patron goddess. “No, I don’t mind.”

~

Athena is furious. She has no patience for Poseidon’s misdeeds on the best of days, but her priestess, in her temple – she has not the power to kill the god, but she’s eager to teach him a lesson.

She goes storming into his palace, and all his servants go scurrying when they see her.

“Lady Athena,” a soft, amused voice greets, “what a pleasant surprise.”

She turns and glares at the smiling Amphitrite. She never knows what to make of this woman. She’s the personification of the sea itself and is closer to a being like the great Mother Gaia than she is to a goddess. Yet she’s content to be the wife of Poseidon, to be the sea he commands.

“Do you know where your husband is?” she demands.

“Always,” she responds, still with that same pleasant smile, and Athena feels a chill she can’t explain go down her back. “How might I help you, Lady Goddess?”

“He owes me recompense,” she snaps, “He’s raped one of me priestesses in my temple. I demand satisfaction.”

Amphitrite smiles, and Athena is reminded all at once that she’s in the middle of the sea, in the middle of Amphitrite’s domain. This is not the place to cross her. “If it is satisfaction you seek, it is not my husband you should be looking for.” Athena opens her mouth, but Amphitrite cuts her off, “Tend to your priestess, Lady Goddess. Nothing you seek is here to find.”

Athena is too wise to fight a battle already lost. She leaves the palace empty handed.

~

Medusa sits in a hot spring, legs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. She has not told Stheno and Euryale of the events of last night. How can she, when they will surely toss her out if she reveals she’s no longer fit to serve in a temple of Athena the Virgin.

“Did you bleed?”

Her head snaps up, and she’s staring into cool grey eyes. “My lady!” she gasps, and hurries to press her forehead to the rock, prostrating herself as best she can in the hot spring.

“I asked you a question,” Pallas Athena says.

Tears gathers in her eyes, and Medusa blinks them away. “No, my lady. He was gentle.”

The words feel sour in her throat, but they are true. He was not rough with her, did not bruise her as the tales say he likes to do, did not leave her bleeding, only with a vague soreness that would be easy to ignore if it had any other cause.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Athena says harshly, grabbing her chin and forcing Medusa to look at her. “There is nothing gentle about what he did. Be still. I will make it so that neither he nor any other man will ever touch you again.”

Dread settles in the pit of her stomach. Medusa had not liked Poseidon’s hands on her – much of her skin is rubbed raw from where she tried to scrub away the phantom sensation of his touch. But she had not planned to remain a priestess forever. She had one day wanted a husband and children of her own, and that desire was not something Poseidon’s actions had managed to change.

But Athena is a goddess, and she is merely a mortal woman.

“Thank you, my lady,” she says, and closes her eyes.

Whatever she does, Medusa hopes it will at least not hurt.

~

Athena is in one of great libraries when Aphrodite settle besides her. She forces down the instinctual swell of bitterness at the sight of the goddess and says, “Aphrodite. You should have told me you were coming.”

“If I had, you wouldn’t be here,” the other goddess retorts, and Athena keeps her face blank against the entirely accurate accusation. “I know you have a temper, sister, but was not your treatment of your priestess a little harsh? It’s hardly her own fault that she caught the eye of Poseidon.”

It takes a moment for Athena to realize who she’s talking about. “My transformation of Medusa was not a punishment, but a gift.”

Aphrodite snorts, “Some gift. I wouldn’t normally interfere with your affairs, but the girl has been praying at my temple for months. Turn her back.”

“So that another man may make prey of her?” Athena snaps, stung in way she refuses to show at Aphrodite’s chastising. “I think not.”

“The way she is now, no man will love her either,” she says, “Why do you deny her her happiness?”

Athena slams the book shut that she was trying to read, thoroughly incensed. “You stupid girl, why would she ever want a man’s love after what Poseidon did to her?”

“Not everyone is you, Pallas Athena,” Aphrodite says, something cruel in the curl of her mouth, “Not all are so willing to turn all that is capable of causing them pain into stone.”

She knows. Athena supposes it was inevitable, that the goddess of love would know what used to lie in Athena’s heart, but her fists clench anyway. “Did you tell him?”

“My husband remains as oblivious of all but his machines as ever,” she says. “Return Medusa to her former form.”

Athena is not willing to be pushed around by a flowery, half rate goddess who wages no wars and wins no victories. “I refuse. I did right by my priestess.”

Aphrodite shakes her head, but leaves her at long last.

~

Medusa doesn’t stop praying to Aphrodite, no matter the long years that her prayers go unanswered.

She keeps her snakes covered in a tight headwrap, and they sleep willingly on top of her head.

In the temple, her gaze is of no concern, for her sisters were not men and therefore could not be turned to stone. But every time someone comes calling to the temple, she hides in her room and refuses to come out, terrified of turning some well-meaning traveler to stone on accident.

A wounded man stays at the temple – a hero, with the mark of the gods on him.

Stheno demands that Medusa tends to him, says that she’s the best healer of the three of them. “He’s out cold, and god-touched besides,” Stheno says impatiently, dragging Medusa from her room. “You won’t turn this one to stone.”

Medusa gives in, tending to his wounds, careful to keep her eyes downcast in case he awakens.

He’s a beautiful man, the only one she’s seen in a long time. His skin is a rich bronze, his hair is thick and black, and is cheekbones are high. His lips full and soft, as Medusa discovers when she carefully skims her fingers over them. “His name is Perseus,” Euryale tells her.

“Perseus,” she repeats, and flushes all over.

She goes to him in the night and sits besides him. At first she only watches him, waiting for his wounds to heal and for him to awaken and leave. But days pass, and he heals, but slowly. She starts talking to him, describes her days as a child. She tells him of her parents, of training to be a midwife, of how she eventually rejected that training to become a priestess of Athena. Days pass to weeks, and she speaks of Poseidon, of the gift (curse, her sisters say, when they think she cannot hear them) Athena gave her, of the future she coveted and has now lost forever.

She holds his hand as she talks, traces the lines of his hands and both dreads and hopes for the day that he awakens.

The day comes. She hides in her room and sits with her legs to her chest, just like on that day that Athena came to her.

There’s footsteps and then a knocking on her door. “Medusa?” a deep voice calls, “Are you in there? It’s Perseus.”

She slowly uncurls and walks to her door. She does not open it, but she presses her forehead against it. She wishes she knew what his eyes looked like.

“If – if you’re in there, I just – I just wanted. I – Thank you, Medusa. For tending to me. I would not be alive if not for you. I can never repay you for your kindness.”

He stands there, waiting, but she cannot bring herself to speak to him.

“Okay,” he says, softer this time, “It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. I hope we meet again, Priestess Medusa.”

She hasn’t cried in a long time. She’s not surprised to realize she’s crying now.

~

Days turns to weeks turn to months. She does her best forget the man she never truly met.

Then he returns.

She’s sitting in the library when Euryale comes for her, telling her she’s needed in the main room.

She barely catches sight of him before she bolts, hurrying to leave before she accidentally kills him. Euryale blocks her way, glaring. “You will not turn him to stone, Medusa. Go.”

“Priestess Medusa,” he calls out with that same rich voice, “I’m wearing a blindfold. Our gazes will not meet. Please, do not run from me.”

She takes a deep breath, forcing her heart to calm and her limbs to stop trembling before she can make herself turn and face him. She takes lead-laden steps until she stands in front him. He has fresh scars from when she saw him last, and she aches to touch them.

He holds out a small box to her. “Please know these are yours no matter your answer, Priestess Medusa. They are not bargaining chips. They are a gift.”

“Thank you,” she says automatically, confused. “My answer to what?”

He smiles at her. His lips look even nicer like that. “Lady Medusa, I heard you all those nights you were by my side, all those long hours when your voice guided me back to the mortal realm. I have traveled the world, and I have yet to meet a woman as extraordinary as you. I would take you for my wife, Lady Medusa, if you are willing.”

Her knees buckle, and his hands wrap around her elbows, holding her upright. “I can’t,” she chokes out. “I can’t, I’ll kill you.”

“The box in your hands holds a pair of eyes,” he says softly. “Take off my blindfold.”

It can’t be. He can’t be saying what she thinks he is. She raises a trembling hand and removes the blindfold.

Where his eyes should be there is only emptiness. There’s minimal scarring, meaning they were removed in intentional precision. “If you take my eyes for you own, you will no longer have to worry about turning people to stone. I doubt they are as lovely as yours must be, but I wish for you to have them none the less. I wish for you to have the choices they provide weather you are my wife or not.”

Medusa carefully transfers the precious, precious box to one hand and grabs the back of Perseus’s neck with the other, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. He wraps a careful arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. He’s warm and solid, and his mouth is soft and pliant. He’s everything she ever hoped being held by a man would be.

Her hair covering falls off, and when they break apart he’s laughing. The snakes unbound are fully grown now, and drape nearly to her waist. They reach out and brush against him. “Friendly, aren’t they?” he asks, holding up a hand for their inspection. “Can I take that as a yes, Lady Medusa?”

Yes,” she says, and kisses him again, just because she can.

~

Athena sits high on a roof, watching Medusa hang laundry in the baking summer sun. Perseus’s brown eyes fit perfectly in her face, and Athena’s eyes are drawn to the swell of the woman’s stomach.

There’s a shift in the air besides her. “Come to rub my ignorance in my face?”

Aphrodite sighs and leans so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Dear sister, I would never.”

They sit in silence for a moment, until Athena can take it no longer. “I know you must think me cold–”

Aphrodite bursts into laughter, and Athena is startled into silence. “Your temper runs hot enough to burn all of Olympus to ashes,” she says cheerfully. “Cold has never been a word I would use to describe you. Stubborn, of course. Petty, most certainly. But never cold.”

“I am the only goddess without a lover,” she says blankly, because all know of Artemis and her women, of how Hestia uses her vow of chastity to deter suitors and not much else.

“So?” Aphrodite asks, “I do not see why that matters. Poseidon beds more people than any of us, and yet he runs as cold as the ocean depths he lives in.”

Athena stares, wide eyed, and admits something to her that she’s never admitted to anyone, “I don’t think I was born with the capacity to love anyone.”

Her sister smiles, soft, and says, “Often, love is sacrifice.” Neither of them look to where Medusa takes her blind husband’s hand and places it against her stomach. His laughter is bright and cuts across the air when he feels his child move. “That is an art you know well, sister.”

For a single moment, Aphrodite’s fingers tangle with hers and there’s warm lips pressed against her forehead.

Then she is alone once more.


gods and monsters series part viii

2

Jyn was abandoned at 16, she’s been fighting to survive by herself. Cassian was raised in the rebellion from age 6, their cause is his own. 

For Cassian it’s a luxury not to care. For Jyn it’s a luxury to be able to.

inspired by [x]

  • Lance: Well I have a date too.
  • Keith: Who is he? What's his name?
  • Lance: His name is... not important. What's important is that he's pretty and brave and he's always doing cool things like flying into asteroid fields and black holes and cool junk like that.
  • Keith: .....
  • Lance: Do you wanna be my date?
  • Keith: Yes! :D
9

Colin Farrell as Percival Graves in ‘Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them’ (2016)

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Scamander.You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life with a beast. Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore… so fond of you?” 

3

The Three Sweet Commanders

4

Hi! So here’s a little something i drew of the sides!!

As always, i’m tagging a lot of people cause you’re all soooo nice and amazing and i love it when people tag me in fics (i LOVE fics, so seriously, if you’ve got a fic PLEASE TAG ME) and fanart, so it’s only fair i do the same! (i hope you don’t mind! Please let me know if you do!)

I’ll be tagging the same people for both my fics and fanart! (please tell me if you rather not be tagged in one of them!) cause this way i don’t forget anyone and i just keep adding anyone who wants to be tagged without missing someone! So those people who have asked me to tag them in my fic Ice cold, i’m tagging you here (my tag list) so i never forget to tag you in the others! :D

But if you just want to be tagged in something specific and not in other stuff please let me know! <3

@fluffbird @yoshimicherryopal @gayhannaford @caristars @extremepenguin10 @skylions-den @demonickittykat @the-diaries-of-a-nerd @cochroachkappa-blog @what-even-is-thiss @deafinatelyfangirling @fugitive-angel @corystssides @tiny-mudkip @parsnipit @romananalogicality @analogicalhell @starlight-sanders @dan-yuna @wingedchickadee @ana-logical @diplomatic-arsonist @killerfangirl3 @princeyandanxiety @pattonscardigan @pfftwhatnoimhuman @agentflash18 @ec-sanderssides @frustratedwaffle @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @thagrinbery @prplzorua @ohmehgawdnotagain @analogically-prinxiety @beautiful-crimson @prinxietys @prinxiety-fandom @prinxiety-logicality-ss @starrykid @organizeddiscord @ts-sideblog @sanderships @toxicsanders

(I’ll keep tagging more people as soon as i can!)