#THE TRUEST OF SLAYS

[bitchkovsky]

my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😜 this strain is called “urca de lima” 😳 youll be zonked out of your gourd 

me: yeah whatever -_- i dont feel shit

5 min later: dude i swear i just saw a witch of a puritan woman

my buddy dufresne pacing: captain flint is lying to us

[apicelladonna]

In another life time, 1927 Albus: Gellert and I—— Ariana: are getting married? Gellert: What, no, we just—— Ariana, pulling out a huge blue folder: sit down, I've had this thing planned out since 1899.

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who according to the sacred tradition of his peaople kiddnaps his bride. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x Female! Reader tw. kiddnaping, mention of blood, general lack of consent (becaouse history says screw it), mayhem. WRITER DISGRESSION: I do not support this kind of behaviour! It is only a piece of fiction and and for entertaiment putpooses only. Thank you for your attention!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was a sacred tradition among his people, passed down from generation to generation in his clan. Filled with adrenaline and led by primitive instincts, the soon-to-be groom/husband kidnaps his future bride and wife from her home. 

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 were traditionalists when it came to domestic life and topics related to love. He believed his ancestors and their ways of ‘wooing’ their subjects of affection were not only successful but also the truest form of confessing one’s feelings for their beloved.

Perhaps only taking you from home in the dead of the night would be better for an outsider like you, who is yet to understand the way of his people. But whenever he thought about it, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 was holding a belief that you deserved better. Something memorable and "romantic," quoting the wives in his village.

That is why he didn't hesitate to raid your village at night.

Dressed in his best furs and leather, additional beads attached to his long, messy hair, and all sorts of accessories tied to his clothes symbolizing his impressive position among his clan. He was at the front, proudly riding his trusted stallion and leading the group of his best warriors on galloping horses towards where you were residing.

Not soon after they'd arrived, everything was set on fire. The barbarians didn't spare a hut from the unforgiving force of nature of their torches. Even some unfortunate fellas couldn't escape from it. Some fortunate ones were given a quick death by the sharp blades of barbarians. 

It was the mayhem, gifted to you by 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

“Oh my dearest wife, where are you?” He kept thinking, urgently looking all around. Adrenaline and euphoria were pumping in his veins. He was a predator on a haunt, ready to pounce on you the moment he saw you. 

And found you he did.

The second he laid his eyes on you, he got into an action. Without hesitation, he quickly urged his horse to gallop towards you. It didn’t matter who he tramped on his way, nor who he slayed to get closer to you. His full focus was placed on you.

You stood no chance.

When he was close enough, like a hawk, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 swiftly leaned down and tightly gripped your waist, hoisting you up on his horse like you weighed nothing. You began to scream and trash in his iron hold, but it didn't phase him one bit. In his eyes, it was endearing and even arousing. He knew from the stories of the other married man that the more a woman puts on a fight, the better wife she’ll be. 

"Shhh...beloved...shhh!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 cooed, fervently kissing away your tears and wet cheeks and holding your hands tightly to his broad chest. Some of the blood splattered on his face he smeared on your snot coated face by nuzzling into you. Between whispering sweet nothings to you and coating your face and neck in his kisses, he couldn't help but laugh. His deep and raspy voice came rumbling from his chest, only frightening you further.

For 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 everything was perfect. Under the night sky, surrounded by flames (of his passion) and screams of villagers mixed with the mad laughter of his people, he achieved what he wanted. He gave you a grand and memorable ceremony. Additionally, in the eyes of his gods, clan and according to the sacred tradition, he laid his claim on you.

You were his, just like he was yours.

"You're mine, dearest wife. Mine!"

Forever.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[softlytowardthesun]

I’m thinking about Danaë, Perseus, and Andromeda.

Danaë was a princess, once. Her happy life was upended the day her father caught wind of a prophecy that his grandchild would be his undoing. She was imprisoned in her own home, and when her son was born, she and the baby were banished and left for dead. Yet Danaë powered through, as heroes are known to do in these types of stories. This single mother in a strange land raised her son with pride — not hubris, but true, righteous pride. They have no need of gods or monsters or the kingdom that cast them out; all mother and son need are each other.

Perseus’s call to adventure begins when yet another evil king decides to treat Danaë as an object instead of a person. Polydectes will force Danaë to marry him unless Perseus can cross the world and return with the head of the Gorgon Medusa. Perseus is in no place to protest, not when the truest hero he’s ever known is counting on him. This is not a quest for glory, but piety: the duty a child owes to their parent.

In his travels, Perseus meets Andromeda, chained to a cliffside and awaiting her grim fate. She too, has a story of a mother and child. Queen Cassiopeia foolishly offended a long list of sea gods and their kingdom will be washed away unless the gods exact their price. Cassiopeia did the offending; it should be her on the cliff. But Andromeda has to suffer for the sins of her family, just like Perseus. He chose to risk his life for his mother; Andromeda had her fate chosen for her.

Maybe Andromeda tried to talk herself into thinking her death would mean something. She’s grown up as a princess, where each generation of the dynasty is meant to be in unbroken continuity with the generation before. The crown she is presumed to wear weighs down any hopes for her own life. If Cassiopeia tells her to die, it is her duty and honor as the child to obey. Secretly, she prays that her death will mean something for her mother — that the next child she has will be granted the freedom of choice Andromeda herself never knew.

But Perseus, raised by a mother worthy of her role, knows that is bullshit. He knows Andromeda deserves better than this, and he breaks the cycle by destroying the monster and breaking her chains, will of Poseidon be damned. And when Cassiopeia reunites with her child, it’s clear she has learned nothing. She immediately tries to force Andromeda into an unhappy marriage - just like what Polydectes means to do to Danaë.

Now Andromeda and Perseus are both angry. She is ready to let her so-called family crumble. She shields her eyes, and lets her suitor and her mother meet the Gorgon’s eyes. She walks away from the stone to which she was chained, into a new life of her making.

The young couple returns to Seriphos. Perseus saves Danaë from the dread altar. A worthy king claims the throne, and in a remarkable stroke of luck for Greek mythology, Perseus kills his evil grandfather without technically violating Ancient Greece’s taboos on kin-slaying. Andromeda and Perseus ascend to the throne of Mycenae, and have that rarest thing in any myth: a happily ever after.

Andromeda gets a husband and a crown, sure, but she also gets Danaë. Danaë is everything Cassiopeia wasn’t: humble, resilient, and loving. She raised Perseus well, and she teaches Andromeda how to stand tall against monsters: not the sea beast, but the creatures that would rather offer up their own children than admit that they were in the wrong.

[agentravensong]

BIG slay the princess spoilers

there might be a line somewhere in the game that would de-confirm this little idea of mine, but, since we know that the princess / shifting mound has a small part of the long quiet still in her, and i think it's stated in one branch/ending that the same is true vice-versa:

i like the idea that the part of Her that's left in the protagonist is Us. the player. the aspect/entity that Makes The Choices.

because the princess, in her truest form, is change, while the protagonist is supposed to be her opposite: the emissary and embodiment of stasis; the same thing forever. and yet, the protagonist is not static. because there's a part of them (the player) that has agency. the ability to Choose. thus changing themself, and spurring change in the princess.

without that part (without us), the protagonist wouldn't be able to slay the princess, because they wouldn't have the will to do anything at all. so that part is necessary. as much as the narrator would have liked to, he couldn't eliminate free will from the equation.

but the presence of free will allows for the ability to change. and if we apply that line of reasoning to the player's role in this story and what the princess represents... idk, it makes sense to me. it feels right. poetic, even.

[marnorourastar]

Regarding your last post about the kids' names, it really depends (for Orel's son) on whether or not Orel learned how terrible of a father Arthur was but as you said, he ought to find out sooner or later, and the truest thing to his character is to indeed avoid giving homage to another abuser (even if not towards him) because I like to think he'd try to break the cycle of abuse in every way (he doesn't wear a belt, and indeed not naming his son after an abusive family member despite them not affecting him directly.)

I also really like your suggestion of Holly, it's so cute. 😭😭

Personally I thought his daughter's name could be something related to angels or something angelic like Angelina cause I like to think both Christina and Orel would often refer to their kids w affectionate epithets like little angels or little sweethearts (cheesy af but it's cute) and it'd be a good occasion to give a name related to that. Besides it's also tied to religion, it means "messenger of God", and I think it's really a 50/50 of Orel's side and Christina's; his grandmother's name is Angela and u take the "ina" of Christina and there u go LMAOO

Anyways sorry for the fucking essay and if this ask is super unprompted 😭😭😭 I just love speculating about Orel's future in general cause we have literal crumbs 😭😭

Anyways I was also the anon asking for the Orel and his kids interaction thing so I was very fed, you're doing gods work as always I simply love ur art 🙏🙏

Have a nice day keep on slaying 🙏🙏

You probably don't know how much I loved the idea of the name Angelina...it sounds damn cute.

And of course, you are right, he would never repeat that horrible cycle of abuse, but, as usual, I feel like at some point he couldn't be so understanding with his kids (I mean, no hitting, just scolding, normal stuff, but he feels it's the worst thing in the world) so...uh then he would have a little anxiety attack, maybe he would lock himself in his room to cry or blame himself for everything, he doesn't like his kids to see him like that, he's afraid they'll see him like he saw Clay. (Ohh silly traumatized man)

And oh, thank you so much HAHAGGG, I always try to give my best, I love Orel, I love talking about him, but I also love hearing opinions, and drawing related stuff, you know.

I'm so normal about him, yeah.

Plus anon you can talk whatever you want, I to like read the questions, and answer them :)

[iwillstabyou]

I have a confession.

As my delightful mutuals probably know, I am Swedish. I am a proud Swede. I live in England though, hence the language (men jag förstår lite svenska också). Therefore, naturally I was happy when my homeland triumphed in the Eurovision Song Contest 2023, mostly because my Swedish relatives FaceTimed me to celebrate the win and they were well and truly LEATHERED (and trust me, that is the truest form of entertainment).

As I’ve mentioned before, us Swedes are fucking FERAL when it comes to Eurovision, so the euphoria of the success coursed through my blood like opium. But much like opium, it skewed my perception of things. It blinded me to the true injustice of it all. It rendered me unable to recognise the truth: the fact that the true winner - Käärijä - was robbed of the title he truly deserved. His act had all the things that Eurovision is about: neon outfits fit for a dr Seuss character, lyrics that seem nonsensical but actually have meaning (and bonus, it’s not a depressing meaning), techno-metal mixed with a highly contrasting genre, slutty backup dancers, singing in Finnish, weird staging, etc. I could go on forever.

The point is, Käärijä slayed. He slayed hard. He slayed harder than Loreen could ever dream of. And I may not have registered it at the time, but looking back now, I realise that from the very first time cha cha cha blessed my ears, I was rooting for Finland, despite my Swedish bloodline. In fact, now I can admit that the aforementioned ‘euphoria’ I felt as the win was announced, was shallow. Deep down, I was actually disappointed. The more I think about it, the more I realise that our ‘win’ was a meaningless feat, fuelled by a jury of so called ‘experts’ who are probably mainly boring old sods with a poor music taste (not like that’s a new revelation - this is Eurovision ffs).

And because of that, I can now fully accept that the only real true winner of Eurovision Song Contest 2023 is Finland. So Käärijä, I speak on behalf of all Swedes (yes, all of them. The ones that disagree just aren’t as self aware and haven’t come to this conclusion yet. They’ll see the truth soon enough. Except for maybe Loreen, which is fair enough) when I say that we collectively give YOU the official title of “Eurovision Song Contest 2023 winner” that you so deserve. We didn’t want it anyway. We have ABBA, it’s not like we can ever beat that.

Congrats on the win, Finland!

[haru-dipthong]

The linguistic domain consists of signs (words) which consist of the signifier (the written or spoken word) and the signified (the thing the word means). In context, the signified is often a specific thing or action in the real world that can be pointed to and said to directly correspond to the signifier (e.g. “that tree” spoken while pointing to a specific tree). But out of context, the signified becomes intangible. It no longer represents a real thing or action, but the idea of a thing or action, or a grouping/category of possible things or actions (e.g. this written word right here: “tree”).

We, as participants of linguistic communities, develop a shared understanding of what comprises these categories through the process of language acquisition (a process in which a learner is exposed to specific things and actions being repeatedly signified by spoken and written signifiers, through existing native speakers). People acquire an understanding of the general categories instinctively and subconsciously by observing many of these specific signs.

These categories can be thought of as a kind of “melding of minds” - a shared understanding that transcends the linguistic domain. It is evidently outside of the linguistic domain because any attempts at pulling these shared understandings into the linguistic domain (i.e. “definitions”) prove to be incomplete, and often circular. All definitions, especially the circular ones, rely on an preexisting understanding of the signified category, or of a similar signified category to which comparisons can be drawn.

“A woman is anyone who identifies as a woman” - how would one identify as a woman if one does not know what a woman is? This definition relies on a world in which a complete understanding of what a “woman” is exists. And I believe that reliance holds true - we do live in a world in which one or more complete understandings of “woman” exist. But if those understandings exist, and the point of the definition is to describe those understandings, yet the definition’s existence relies on a preexisting understanding, then there is no need for the definition - it is self defeating.

This blog is run by a nonbinary person. I understand that the above paragraph is a bit dense, and could be appropriated by TERFs. It is my opinion that a TERF interpretation of the above is an interpretation that has misunderstood what it is saying. So for any TERFs with poor reading comprehension, allow me to clarify: I think that the "a woman is anyone who identifies as a woman" definition approaches the truest possible definition of "woman" precisely because it is circular. The more a definition leans on a preexisting understanding, the closer it is to describing the concept accurately (and ironically, the further it is from being "useful" to a person who does not already understand the word). I think an even more accurate definition of "woman" would be "a woman is a woman".

The above is a particularly poignant example, but the same logic can be applied to any word. Fish, sandwich, vegetable, table, love, run, slay. These are all examples of words. Try applying the same logic to them! You may do this to any word you like: this post is full of words; you may use any of them, even this one.

One practical application of this idea is to realise that this is why it is essential to second language acquisition that words are learned in context, rather than learned from dictionary definitions. You cannot derive the specific from the general. The human mind is tuned to operate in the opposite way - observe many examples, and see a pattern “automatically” emerge.

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Easter in Autumn though like the season of true change corresponding with the truest change in history...going into a time of death and exile (winter) just as we had to after Jesus returned to heaven but with the knowledge that salvation has happened and will happen and life will return...shout out to the Southern hemisphere y'all get some slay ass symbolism

[todderwodders]

Hmmm, maybe… Jaheira to Wyll, or vice-versa, post-game? (If they’re both still alive, lol)

I'm writing Letter Fic! Received on the tenth day of the tenth month of the year 1493. Duke Ravengard, I have known men who do not know the meaning of the word courage, though they speak of it often. I know men who speak of the world love, though they speak of it often. I know men who grow into young men. They talk as men, and walk as men, but they do not know the meaning of manhood. They do not know what it is to be a true friend, nor companion, nor lover, and certainly, they do not know what it is to be husband, a bond and duty which encapsulates all of these things. My daughter writes to me of this day, of your engagement to the Bhaalsdaughter. She speaks of your kind words, of your growing hair, of your future bride's changing body in response to a much kinder life than she has ever known before. She speaks of it in less glowing terms, but she has not been in love, and forgets that in her younger days, she too ate and drank as much as she so desired, freed from the burden of strife. I do not know how to say it well, so I do not reference this at all in my response. But to you, I speak frankly. I am grateful for the love you share. I am grateful that it exists and that you have it. it is one of life's greatest pleasures. However, I beseech you now: do not rush your marriage. I was married to my Khalid on a cart. It was sparse and cold and perhaps I was not kitted out to be what many imagine a bride to be, but we did not care. My time together with my husband was so short, even by the standards of shorter lived peoples. When I heard of your marriage, I was happy for you, yes, but I was sad, too. Sad for myself, if this self pitying old woman is allowed a moment of honesty. I reflected on this for many days and nights. I lost some bit of sleep. It is silly, how much I deliberated on these feelings, and how simple the answer I arrived to truly is. I loved my husband, and I wish I had more memories of our marriage. I wish we had not married so quickly. How strange that is to say, when it has been so long, and I had thought I had ruminated all i could on my husband. Life does not take to it's work so easily, so cleanly. Grief is ever lasting. It will follow you forever, and closely, if you let it. The insight of grief is also ever lasting, and in some strange way, I feel so very close to the time that I had with every beloved person I have ever known and lost. So do not rush. Do not weep, for death and loss is also apart of life. It cannot be slain. It can be accepted. Understand, my friend, exactly what you have in your possession, and what you stand to lose, and hold it loosely anyways. There is no dragon to slay in the home in which a marriage resides. One day you will part from one another, be it for another or in the slipping from this mortal coil. This fragility makes things so sweet. Speak plainly, and gently. Make your words known. Understand that she will ask much. and you will ask much, and perhaps neither of you understand each other at all, some days. You make no error by these events - it simply is. Love is not a man being put aside, for he has made some silly mistake. You are no longer in your father's house, nor are you hunting the Coast for beasts and strange, evil men. You are your own man now, Wyll, and you choose the home you build. Make something you are proud of. Hold your beloved's hand gently. Be as your best traits allow, and forgive when you are not always your best. It will happen. Savor the cake, and the cloth, and the fine fruit of your table. Love is strong, and full of trust, and it is about being the bravest companion, the truest friend, the most loyal of men. This I know you will be, and much more. Know that your friend has faith in you. P.S. I expect a wedding invitation post haste.

J

[fangirlingpuggle]

Me trying to sleep after playing the slay the princess new demo.

Brain: Ok so our perception of the princess alters her, and only in the prisoner ending did I get the note, the prisoner ending is where we both saw the princess’s true self and saved her unlike the Damsel where she was innocent the entire time. In the prisoner ending the hero and princess both acted truest to their characters Afterall the hero wanted to save her, and then we get the voice of doubting, the prisoner also seems to be the least changed.

Me: It’s been hours please I need to sleep

Brain: Our actions and very perception change her and perhaps her perception of ourselves and then the mirror itself that we can never see ourselves in. And just like the princess has many different facets we keep getting voices affected by our actions at odds with us. In this essay I will-

Me:Let me sleep please!

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Serpent part 3

Prequel, part 1, part 2

A lesser man might crumple to his knees and beg for mercy, but not me. I do not bow or scrape. I rear back and hack her door down, forcing myself into the home of the truest evil I know. I slay her guards, their sickly sizzling sweet blood splattering me black and red. I give death a second dying, crunching down on twitching severed limbs like I were walking across a field of dry twigs.

The serpent winds itself up a crumbling tower. She is there, it knows. The Queen of Undeath lives in her ancient castle, that which was there before she rose and will be there long after she falls. 

The sea of monsters and beasts swells, a never-ending tide of blood and gore for me to wash myself in. Where was this back when I thirsted for it? I want to revel in this massacre, but all I can see is my love and our children. 

The memory proves too much, and I call for the serpent. Take me, I beg. Take me and make me care for nothing again. Make me Maizen, Shatterer of Worlds.

For a moment I fear the worst, that the serpent has abandoned me in my time of need, just as I did to my family. My scything falters, and the horde presses in. A ghoul reaches out and snags my arm, scratching a red ribbon onto my skin.

That finally catches the serpent's eye. The red haze fills my vision again, clotting out all emotion. I have peace again, peace at the centre of a whirlwind of blades and blood. I can feel the serpent in all my movements, its coils tightening against me, puppeteering me.

When I reach the base of the Lich-Queen's tower, it is with regret that I flee the battle. I would gleefully fight the thralls until their corpses drowned me, but the serpent has other plans. Or perhaps I did, me with my loving pulsating fleshbag of a wife, back in the days when that mattered. When was that? A hundred years ago? A thousand? The effort of trying to remember makes my head spin, and the serpent has to force me up the stairs.

I slam into the door to her throne room, heaving against it with my shoulder. The wood is ancient oak, too-moist and rotting, no match for me and my serpent. Splinters as big as some daggers embed themselves in my flesh, but I do not care.

All I have eyes for is the Lich-Queen, seated on her throne of bone and twitching sinew. Her crown drips with horrors, blood and bile and worse besides. Her gown is dotted with eyes too large to belong to an adult, and her corset is adorned with the ribs of some fool man. Those eyes stun me, blue like a stormy sky, more awe-inspiring than the finest siren.

But that is not where her majesty lies. No, her true beauty comes from her power. It comes from the way the ground of Ceredell shakes with the footsteps of her army. It comes from the way her magic has brought a nation to its knees. It comes from her sheer power, breathtaking as the sun and twice as deadly.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[conostra]

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 261 (spoilers, duh): A Tale Of Two Proteges

Satoru Gojo needs no introduction. The greatest sorcerer of the modern era. The first in centuries to be born with both the Six Eyes and the Limitless. The man so gay he honored his lover by destroying the broken system that broke him too, in the name of himself and all those he valued and truly cared for. Despite his confidence that often veered directly into narcissism on many an occasion, despite his issues stemming from being bred to be the ultimate living weapon, Gojo was, ultimately, a man who wanted to change society for the better. Even if, at times, that meant making himself so much worse. He would bear the cross to become the catalyst, his own blood and sweat, his very humanity, the fuel through which he would burn down the old world, and raise from the ashes a better Jujutsu society, a better Jujutsu world- a better world for sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. 

Gojo was the mentor for numerous students, and if not directly teaching them, then an inspiration all the same- Maki, Panda, Megumi, Nobara, and several other students spanning years and schools alike. But no two more directly outline Gojo’s influence than the two true protagonists of Jujutsu Kaisen- Yuta Okkotsu, the Greatest Living Sorcerer of the Modern Era, and Yuji Itadori, Sukuna’s Vessel, The Tiger of West Junior High. LOL

Yuji and Yuta are Gojo’s truest disciples, following exactly after their teacher, and despite this, they are contrasting parallels to each other. Yuta, willing to throw away all of himself, just like his teacher, in order to do what must be done. Yuji, willing to go through anything in order to prevent himself and his allies, his friends, now his family, from compromising themselves any further in this perpetual war they exist to fight. And in this moment, it puts them at complete odds. 

Yuta is no stranger to complete desolation. In his very origin, he finds out he is responsible for his childhood love, Rika, becoming a cursed spirit. He is bullied in school, harassed and isolated in the world. And all of these people- cruel, sure, but random people all the same- are absolutely fucking obliterated. Destroyed. He is directly responsible for a notable amount of pain and sorrow in the world. And who is it who shows him kindness, and grace? Who is it that, in a series of his darkest moments, shines the light on the path he should take forward? Who is it that puts his own life on the line for Yuta to continue to even live in the first place? Satoru Gojo. 

And Yuta makes good on the opportunity. He follows in Gojo’s will, a will to change the world by any means necessary, for the good of all involved. Through his own immense power, despite the gap between them in strength, he closes the gap between himself and Gojo emotionally, more than perhaps any have known since Gojo’s love, Geto, was lost to him at the Breakup KFC.

Yuta continues on that path. When Yuji’s life is put up, Yuta takes the opportunity to deceive the Jujutsu elders and save him. When the Culling games begin, Yuta is the primary contestant for our heroes, the one who amasses points through the slaying of these decrepit revenants and modern-day deviants alike, the one who bites the bullet on the wholesale slaughter for them to achieve their plan and attempt to foil Kenjaku. And when the foiling of Kenjaku is indeed what is on the line, who else but Yuta to be the one to confront him, to attempt to mitigate casualties? And when Gojo dies, who else but Yuta to be the one to take control of the battlefield, now the strongest sorcerer alive on the side of our heroes. Domain Expansions, Cursed Techniques, sneak attacks by the Heavenly Restricted. Nothing comes to fruition.

And so, in a last-chance bout of desperation, Yuta decides to play his final ace. He uses that monster of a man, Kenjaku, as inspiration, and takes his cursed technique as his own. They are in a war of absolute horror, and are in need of any advantage he can get. The risk of death is high. The moral implications are… horrific on every end, to say the least. But who else but Yuta, with the power to perform the acts that can make the change he wants to see in the world, is not just willing, but able to do what needs to be done to stop the Rampaging Demon, Ryoumen Sukuna? 

Is Yuta Okkotsu willing to give up his humanity, and potentially his life, to save the world?

Is Yuta Okkotsu Gojo’s disciple because of the lengths he is willing to go to? Or is he willing to go to these lengths because he is Gojo’s disciple?

The answer is simple. Yuta has adopted Gojo’s willingness to play however he has to in order to do what he must, with none of the ego that prevented Gojo from playing his cards right in the moments where it truly cost him. He, as himself, Yuta Okkotsu, is of far less importance to the Jujutsu world, to his family at Jujutsu Tech and their sister school, than he is as the weapon through which Sukuna will meet his maker. And even if all he gets is 5 minutes. Even if all he is is a weapon. He will load himself, and aim himself- and if no one else is willing, he will pull his trigger on his own.

Yuji is cut from the exact same cloth, with the opposite texture.

Kindness. Humanity. Morality, willpower, whatever positive attributes you can give to a sorcerer are present in Yuji in spades. Arc after arc after arc, his humanity is tested and his morals are put in places they should never be, and yet his choice is clear- selflessness over all other things. And in a bit of a twist, that includes selfishness. 

From the beginning, Yuji’s mission has simply been to do good. His grandfather died, his last family, with his final words bearing a burden of destiny- Help people. Be kind. And Yuji took this to heart. On pain and threat of death with Junpei, he decides to attempt to talk him down and ask him to change his mind, to get help, to come with him. Rather than allow Sukuna to kill Megumi, a man who has been relatively cold to him at times and at more than one occasion has threatened to kill him should he get out of hand, Yuji rips his own heart out, almost assuredly taking his own life instead. He had been one of the only people truly torn about killing even Mahito’s poor victims of Idle Transfiguration, and even about the prospect of Cursed Spirits that showed more humanity in the first place.

Even now, his life at risk once again, more than ever before, his goal, his true priority, is to rescue Megumi before killing Sukuna. If the powercliff between Gojo and the rest of the main cast was not present, if there were truly a way he could have been an asset, Yuji would have been the first (next to Yuta) to step up and join his mentor for the Jumping of Sukuna. 

Besides his link with the Greatest Sorcerer in History, there’s another glaring reason why the JJK crew didn’t let Yuji in on their plan, maybe an even greater one: He would have, in no uncertain terms, absolutely NOT, under ANY circumstances, have let Yuta do this to himself. Yuji’s philosophy is simple. No More Martyrs. Suguru was enough. Gojo was enough. His grandfather was enough. Mai was enough, Mechamaru was enough, Yuki,. Tengen, Junpei, Masamichi, Nobara, Panda’s siblings, shit, Todo’s arm and Megumi’s sanity, if not totality- too much. Gojo, now. Too much. Sukuna killed his mentor, then Kashimo in quick succession, then Higuruma, then nearly killing Yuta, then nearly killing Maki, then nearly killing Kusakabe, and UI Ui, then burning his now only living relative, Choso. 

No. More. Martyrs.

Yuji possesses a rather overlooked aspect of Gojo’s personality- his kindness. His compassion. His desire to better the world, without everyone else having to suffer. And that is where the distinction lies.

Yuji holds in him the aspect of Gojo that wanted everyone to become stronger, to try to keep pace with him, to work in tandem to create a better world for sorcerers and regular people alike. And Yuta holds in him, well, from his own words, the Monster. The willingness of Gojo to lose himself in the abyss, to blink first, to dive headlong into his own darkness in order to breach and create a light for others to seek for guidance, even if he will never see that light in his life. They are both, in their own right, martyrs. Yuji gave up his own life to attempt to harbor Sukuna, to save as many people as possible. And here he is, fighting that very demon, the King of Curses, to rectify the wrong of merely allowing him to exist. And Yuta has now potentially given up everything. His life, literally his very identity in the potential last few minutes of his existence, depriving himself of his humanity to save the humanity of all those who are left around him, a shambling corpse piloting a shambling corpse.

Yuji is Gojo’s righteousness, and Yuta is Gojo’s darkness. But both of them are most assuredly his greatest disciples, and both of them, in their own right, are two of the greatest heroes the Jujutsu world has ever seen.

Hopefully, the two halves of their mentor they both possess, and the wholes of themselves, and their comrades, and the histories behind them, will indeed be enough to destroy once and for all the King of Curses, the not-so-imaginary demon, The Strongest- Ryoumen Sukuna.

[redlyriumidol]

honestly this is kind of lame of us but I regrettably do enjoy how so many people looked at the default hawke designs and decided they were such a slay that we just kept them. like we're sooo picky about character creators 99% of the time but we saw HER

and were like that's such a vibe and better than anything I can do. I mean I think this is largely the fault of the da2 character creator (especially bc this hair is better than anything available) and I legitimately feel bad/mad respect for people who play custom hawkes, they are more original and creative than us in every way. but I can't deny that I absolutely love this strange edgelord goth bird woman and my da2 runs consist of trying to get the 'truest' version of a character that I feel i am interpreting rather than creating

[cursedfortune]

❛ you are mine, whether you agree or not. ❜

darker vibes. @fallesto

There was only one soul that was permitted to speak to her in such a fashion, and it was the one whose earring she wore - a thing equal to that of a wedding ring.

None would guess the husband she had claimed and who had claimed her in return was the very beast that loomed over the witch as she stood upon the block - at the ready to be hanged by foolish mortals that believed this could slay a thing like her.

He had crushed the men in armor with ease, at another few alive. It was no match for him as it wouldn't have been a match for her either. Yet she humored the humans on a whim, just to see how he'd behave in this new body. Her husband was becoming more curious by the day, it would seem. With her aid to protect and preserve him, Greed was beginning to adopt some of Lust's shapeshifting to his arsenal all thanks to a few spells she forged for him.

A single swipe of his claw severed the noose from around her neck. While his taloned hand was close she reached out to touch a single finger as she had done with his face time and time again since they've met. This beast of darkness and sin was hers. A soul mate, her husband, her truest love. Even now her heart beat with such sentiments for one so dark and cruel - despite how brightly his eyes seemed to glow.

When his head lowered and moved closer, seemingly understanding what she wanted without uttering a word, she abandoned his clawed digit to touch upon his snout. "A good thing I've agreed to it then, hm?" Or else they'd be at war, like they used to be. A low laugh escaped her lips before she pressed them to his scaly skin, content to show him affection no matter the shape he took.

"You're mine." She moved then to climb onto his hand so that he could place her where she usually rode from, content to be reunited once more. "I know where they call home. Let's raze it - it'll be a fun date, no?"

[cottonundiestf]

Transformed Heroines A to Z: Corrupting Influence

Archangela was a heroine whose noble virtue was incomparable. The daughter of an angel and a human, she knew she was blessed with the power to protect humanity. It was her responsibility to be a superhero and a beacon of virtue for the world.

She was glad to put criminals behind bars and smite demons, but her truest virtue was forgiveness. People deserved redemption! When her nemesis, Fallen Angelica, begged for the chance to turn over a new leaf, Archangela accepted the fallen angel as a new ward.

FA accompanied her dutifully, doing her best not to cause trouble and learn from Archangela's example. The black-winged angel cheered when Archangela took down demonic threats, but she seemed confused by the hero's willingness to deal with mortal criminals.

She pointed out how these fights were beneath Archangela. Her powers were so great; shouldn't mortals be responsible for handling their own issues? It sounded absurd, but after a week of intervening in the shallow larceny and violence of mortals, Archangela did question why this was her problem?

Mortals could handle mortal problems. She had the power to slay demons! And humans weren't getting any better with her example. She stopped responding to the cries and calls of mortals, until eventually, they stopped calling for her. They knew Archangela wouldn't come because she had greater battles to wage.

That was why another half-angel heroine appeared in her city, responding to the calls of mortals and even intervening in Archangela's battles with the forces of evil!

"She's here to steal your glory, Mistress. She wants to replace you; to take all the power you hold," Fallen Angelica whispered in her ear. She tried to ignore the suspicion, but her sidekick was right. This pretender was making a mockery of her, acting like she was the selfish one for failing to care for stupid mortals and their petty problems.

Righteous rage blinded Archangela, and before sense could take control, she slew another half-angel. She not only destroyed her, she drained the divinity of the pretender. All that power coursed through her veins, and all that angelic beauty enhanced her own appearance. A model's face, heavy breasts, and long, perfect legs.

She was perfect.

But she wasn't good. She wasn't holy. Her selfish act turned the light in her dark; tainting her wings. The virtues in her soul turned to sins; kindness to greed, humility to pride, and chastity to insatiable lust.

The corrupted heroine panicked, but Fallen Angelica soothed her, groping her lewd new body. "Isn't this better? Feel the power flowing through you. The freedom from your foolish obligations. You've learned so much from me, my Lucy Fel."

Lucy... that felt right in her cold heart. She could see the truth now; Fallen Angelica had been guiding her through her noble idiocy. Her virtues limited her, but she could have so much more. She could feed this greed through force. She could rule at Angelica's side to feed her pride.

And her new Mistress would gladly feed her bottomless, overpowering lust.