#No proofs nada nothing

[springs-hurts]

I wasn't going to say anything about Sirius today but saw a reel and now I'm messed up.

People out there really think that Sirius thought Harry as an stand in for James. Like no no no, he didn't, he didn't, he did not.

He did compare him with James at some points no denying but he didn't saw him as James😭

As someone has already said on this site(i don't remember who worry) Sirius would never ever think of Harry as James, James was different, 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴.😭

He knew perfectly well about the difference b/w harry and James.

That's it.

[fingertipsmp3]

Only stressful thing about Stardew Valley is trying to pick who to romance tbh

[grapefives]

did it or not ?

hoshina + gen oneshots! (separately) x gn!reader

arranged marriaged au! + hurt/cormfort + injuries + denial of feelings + platoon leader reader! + enemies to lovers (?)

warnings; it’s gender neutral reader but… lowkey lenient to male readers, but obviously only if you think hard jajaj, that’s all, also, change of work format! not proof read.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hoshina soshiro

— he wanted NOTHING to do with you! not even as entertainment to see what could become of you both, NADA

— it’s not that he would argue with you or anything, but he’d speak a little harsher when it comes to you

— constantly asks why did he have to be married when both of you were in the defense force and could die any day

— at least he acknowledges your hard work

— mina actually likes you for him, so she always tells him he should show you affection, to which he gags at.

“ah, hoshina, don’t you think l/n looks good like that? sweaty, covered in monster fluids, look at how badass l/n looks, took down so many monsters…”

“what, are you saying you want l/n to take my spot as vice captain? since your praising l/n so much.” hoshina asks darkly while placing his hands on his hips.

mina shakes her head, expression neutral, “no, of course not, but maybe you should give l/n a nice reward-“

“ugh!” he groans, immediately walking away from her. he knows her expression wouldn’t show much, but he knew her true feelings. she was probably laughing in her head, mentally patting her back for ticking him off.

it didn’t help that you had defeated so many monsters, a few more than him. he eyes you as you flick some monster grub off of your shoulder, looking around to step aside, away from the scene. he hated going back “home” with you, you took the longest showers.

“good job today,” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, like he said, you took long showers, so he sometimes zones out waiting for you to get out. “i wish i knew how to use blades,” you comment.

he stares at you, fresh out of the shower. your cheeks have a rosy color, definitely from the warm shower you had taken. your eyes weren’t on him, but with the way you said that, it felt like you were looking directly at him. you don’t talk much to him either.

“for a platoon leader your skills are too inadequate,” he bites before going to the restroom. “train more and you’ll be better suited.”

— honestly, you wish he’d at least make fun of you or something, not nag or insult your honed skills.

— you two lived more like strangers that shared a room, little talk yet always around

one day, you two had to face a group of honju. it wasn’t something either of you couldn’t manage, but for some reason, hoshina was having a bit of a hard time. especially with the way you kept missing your shots.

“the heck is wrong with you?” he ask as he slices the honju’s joints.

“the heck is wrong with you? you keep cutting off limbs and letting them fall on me! makes me miss my shots!” you argue as you hop off a wall.

“if we don’t take this one down we can’t help out with the other ones!”

“well if you weren’t all up on the honju then i would’ve shot it down already!”

mind you, you two were still honing your new, growing skills. hoshina was recently risen to vice captain and you as platoon leader.

“and i can’t slice it down because you keep shooting at the wrong areas!”

in the end, the honju got a good hit in you and him. minor injuries of course, but the next day you were sent off in a mission where plenty of platoon leaders were called to assist. hoshina was recently getting inside the house when you trudge up to him, looking absolutely worse than the day before from the honju.

your yored expression was one he’d never seen, mostly because he barely looks at you.

“woah there, did you age in the span of a day?” he finds himself joking.

yet you walk past him and go inside your home.

“nice talk.” he grumbles as he follows.

after your shower, you sit at the vanity, with a sleeveless shirt. there are fresh scrapes on your shoulders, your cheek is bruised and your hand are wrapped in bandages. he notices, because you hum softly as you put ointment on the scrapes.

“a mission?” he asks, surprising himself at his worry.

“broke my guns, had to use that blade.” you reply, closing the bottle.

“i told you to practice more close combat.”

“you didn’t say anything, you commented on my bad skills.”

“same difference.”

“if i die one day it’s your fault.”

he frowns, “how would it be my fault?”

and your eyes fell on him. and they gave him an answer he couldn’t hear. you’ll have pushed me so far away that you won’t make it in time when i need you.

— fighting beside you turns to be like fighting alongside mina. he carves a way and you hit, except only on those missions that aren’t nation threatening.

— at some point, he enjoys the teamwork.

— doesn’t show interest head on, he does it in silent ways. (like placing a cold water on your night stand. putting your books back in place when you’re too much in a rush to organize before leaving.)

— your determination for constant growth impresses him, he notices it when you beat him one day on slicing down a small kaiju

and just when he starts to appreciate you, something happens.

“hoshina,” your voice surprises him as he slices through the kaiju.

“l/n, what is it? kinda busy here-“

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA! L/N HAS TAKEN A CRITICAL HIT!” okonogi’s voice goes through, “SHIELDS ARE DOWN!”

“uh,” you chuckle, “so are my vitals, have you said that?”

“what-?” he gasps as he dodges an attack, he’s in a tight spot right now.

“VICE CAPTAIN!” okonogi cries, “YOU MUST RELEASE MORE POWER! THAT KAIJU IS ADAPTING TO YOU!”

“yeah!” he hops off a rooftop and slices down the middle, causing a hit, but it’s bot enough yet. “someone back platoon leader! where is everyone?” he barks.

“we’re sending more reinforcements! the kaijus had overwhelmed our troops and many are severely injured! platoon leader l/n please hold out until back up comes!”

“we’re too shorthanded for backup!” hoshina argues. “i’ll finish this and head over!” he grunts as he attacks once more.

“so like, i’m bleeding out,” you say softly.

“PLATOON LEADER PLEASE STAY STILL! YOU DON’T HAVE STRENGTH LEFT!”

“how bad is it?” hoshina asks as he finally takes down the kaiju. he’s out of breath.

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA HAS ELIMINATED THE KAIJU IN THE SECTOR!” okonogi shouts, “if anyone can go back up platoon leader, we’ll have victory soon!”

“just how bad is it?”

“the honju is a plant based type! it’s core keeps shifting!”

“and so are my organs, i wanna throw up,” you say.

“you idiot! hide! you can’t keep facing it! how far away am i okonogi!?”

“six minutes- PLATOON LEADER L/N YOUR SUIT IS OVERHEATING AGAIN! PLEASE STOP, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST TOO MUCH BLOOD!”

“I FOUND IT’S CORE!” you yell before going silent.

“VICE CAPTAIN PLEASE HURRY! PLATOON LEADER COULD DIE IF THEY DON’T PULL THIS OFF BEFORE YOU ARRIVE-“ okonogi gasps.

“okonogi? what is it? l/n?” he calls out as he dashed inside the building your squad had been.

the sight was ugly, many officers thrown about, blood and kaiju fluids everywhere.

“PLATOON LEADER L/N’S VITALS ARE DROPPING! PLEASE SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!”

“where is it?” he asks as he runs across, slicing the vines coming at him.

“uh, go to the control room far back, full of vines and living plants, literally they’ll attack you,” you slur into his ear. “hurry before i get digested.”

“WHAT!?” okonogi cries.

he sees red. no wonder your life force was dwindling. “YOU’RE SO RECKLESS!”

slice after slice, he makes it through and strikes the core. it’s disregarded by him as he searches for you. soon, he stands before you.

he stares at your body, laid there on the floor surrounded by kaiju fluids, in your own blood. you’re breaths are too shallow, too painful.

“you want something…” you say lightly between breaths, “to do with me now?”

“what are you talking about-“

“platoon leader please don’t use your energy! it keeps dwinDLING! MEDICS! MEDICS!” okonogi screeches.

“you… you never look at me… never accepted me,” you smile tiredly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

the gash on your side is seeping blood. your suit had given up from over exertion.

“can you stop?” he’s kneeling over you, trying to lift you out of the puddle. “if you don’t come back home with me, then i don’t want to go home.”

you close your eyes, there’s commotion far away. medics maybe? “we live like strangers under a roof…”

hoshina grips you, “i’m… sorry,” he bows his head, pulling you close but still so gentle to your wounds. “please know that i am grateful for you… all these years, you’ve also pushed me to extend my potential…”

“platoon leader! vice captain!” a medic calls out as they bring a stretcher.

“well…” you give a shaky breath, eyes closing, “guess i was… bound to… be in your arms…”

“y/n-?”

“WE’RE LOSING THE PLATOON LEADER!” and everything become white noise to hoshina.

was he going to go home to an empty house? was he going to lose you, after finally accepting that you’re now a part of his life routine, a routine he doesn’t want to exclude? what’s this ache in his heart? he feels cold.

“-out of danger zone,” okonogi’s voice brings him back.

— seeing you frail was never something he expected to see

— you were always standing, as badly as you were always injured, you never showed signs of injury until you two got home or he found you at the hospital

hence, seeing you on the hospital bed wasn’t ever in his mind. you just woke up, smiling at him. your smile is wonderful, he felt like that warmth radiating from you finally brought him back to life. after days of feeling lost, cold and alone, he felt like he was back on track.

“what? wanna be in my arms?” you grin, joking.

and neither of you expected him to take up the offer.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ gen narumi

— literally did NOT ACKNOWLEDGE YOU

— the audacity! you were so annoyed but you understood too, why would anyone want an arranged marriage?

— he’s cute, you loved looking at him even if he was just yelling at his screen when you were both on stand by

— he ARGUES. ALWAYS. just to get a rise out of you but you PISS HIM OFF when you don’t give him the reactions he wants.

“i want to sleep on the left side today.” he huffs, glaring down at your sleeping figure.

you had literally just managed to fall asleep after all his yelling and that bright ass tv. you glared at the wall, your back facing him as he looms over you.

“move,” he demands, shaking you with so much force you want to flip over and punch him.

yet, you close your eyes and roll over. literally rolling OVER him as you make your way to the right side, squishing him and making him yells and fight. still, you let that shove throw you off of him and settle on the right side. you fall back asleep, smiling at his grumpy remarks.

— as pay back he makes you go through brutal training. yet you always get back at him somehow back in the “comfort” of your shared room.

— you’re more serious about the things you have to accomplish outside of the battlefield, he’s not.

— he constantly berates you for your fighting style, just to piss you off

— at some point you lose confidence in yourself. had had been extremely harsh that day and the kaiju managed to make a good example of you. and gen had laughed at you for it.

“have you changed the bandages?” he asks, looming over you when you were trying to fall asleep.

you say nothing, ignoring his presence. yet, he cages you, practically on top of you with both arms to your sides as he glares down.

“y/n.”

your eyes snap open. that is the first time he’s ever called you by your name and it had to be your first name? his nerve!

“get off me,” you grunt.

“have you changed your-“ he’s easily thrown off of you by your action, he didn’t expect you to move.

“why do you care?” you growl.

he frowns, “i don’t want you messing up our bed sheets!”

you end up leaving the room, crashing somewhere else. he obviously didn’t chase after you, you aren’t that important to him. yet, he couldn’t sleep, remembering the way you left; angry, hurt. he had gotten used to you sleeping next to him, to you waking him up when the two of you had to assist morning duties.

he honestly felt like he couldn’t breathe well, until you came in the morning to change into your attire. he immediately sat up on the bed, staring at you as you move about. not a hello, not a “good morning captain, gotta wake up now” to be followed by his complaints. not even an acknowledgment, you got ready, freshened up and left. he didn’t like that.

— he lives for attention. for recognition. there should always be someone that gives it to him, yet that was the day he realized you don’t.

— it made him feel like he had to prove himself to you.

“lower the sound to the tv, it’s late,” you day dryly.

“i’m winning! listen to me win!”

you just turn over and go to sleep. when he shouts at his victory, his immediate response is to turn to you. yet, since you’re sleeping, you don’t acknowledge him.

he stomps over to you and forces you awake, sitting you up and practically trying to open your eyelids.

“NARUMI!”

“I WON AGAIN!” he roars, shaking you.

— honestly the relationship is more like child and guardian despite how old you two are.

— he has no plans for a family, said that loud and clear

— same way he tries to get a rise out of you, you do it to him when you catch him training late at night

“this is the third night in a row, captain,” you tease as he freezes mid air attack.

“THEY TOLD ME TO BE ON STAND BY IN CASE A KAIJU APPEARED!” he screeches.

“at one in the morning?”

“HOW ABOUT YOU POLISH THOSE HORRIBLE SKILLS OF YOURS!?”

you laugh, setting down a cold water bottle on the floor. “don’t over do it, or else they’ll notice you’re doing this again.”

“SHUT UP! I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING!”

— you’re literally always tidying up behind him. he never tidies up.

“l/n, where are my clothes?” he argues one morning.

“have you washed them?” you ask, annoyed.

he pauses. ever since you two married, he’s never really lifted a finger. well, even when he lived alone, the defense force would sometimes always send someone in to clean up. he’s tidy up once a month but it wasn’t often. now that he thinks hard, as he stares at you in the kitchen, it’s always been you doing almost everything.

“why haven’t you washed them-“

“gen narumi i will throw this knife at you, how about you prove you’re good at surviving in your own home the way you survive out in the battlefield?” you bark as you turn back to face him.

you never snap at him like that, it’s always a silent glare or a petty action. never verbal.

fine, he’ll prove he’s good without you.

— he’s never felt like he’s had a place to belong, no matter how much he proved himself worthy

— captain isao was a clear example of his first time feeling a sense of accomplished belonging

and now, coming home to an empty cleaned out house, he wonders why he feels out of place. it freaks him out, it’s been years since he felt like this. he’s proven himself more than capable of being the best at defending the nation from threats… yet.. why hasn’t he done the same to keep a home.

you didn’t give a divorce, simply asked to be elsewhere for a while, off on a mission that even you don’t know how long will last. yet, coming home to this isn’t… normal… anymore. time and time again, he was rejected from homes and hoped orphanages, that desire to have a home long gone after years or not being enough no matter how much he proved himself.

and now, he’s alone in these four walls again. where you had tried to make a home out of. where he, unknowingly, didn’t even have to prove himself worthy of having. of belonging.

“captain gen! how can we help you?”

“i wanna see how platoon leader l/n’s mission is going.” he says dryly.

everyone in the room turns to him, like he lost his mind.

“uh, i-if you don’t mind captain, why would that be?”

“i don’t have to explain anything to you!”

he doesn’t get to watch or hear how your mission is going. captain isao kicks him out, he put up a fight of course, but it was embarrassing to even try to come up with a valid reason. he doesn’t like you, always in his business, in his commodity, in every mission, every training. always cleaning ip after him, always telling him to go to bed early, always telling him to file out reports- always breathing down his neck!

you’re weak. strong enough to be platoon leader but still so weak! always coming home hurt. always needing medicine. always taking breaks during training.

yet, when he finally gets to see you in action again, after weeks of being denied your whereabouts, he finds himself seeing you. actually seeing you in action. you’re different here than in training, than when you had last fought beside him. yet, you could do better. he knows that, so he grows frustrated when he sees you take a hit and miss the perfect opportunity to subjugate the kaiju.

going against the rules, like always, he does it for you. you’re eyes are wide as you see him do just what you were trying to do. so easily. they superiors are barking in your in ears. they’re doing the same in gen’s. yet, you couldn’t hear them, only your anger and your frustration, you’re insecurity eating at you again.

“was i ever, even for one second, enough for you?” you yell, stomping over towards him.

“you had a chance and you didn’t take it!” he barks.

“GEN NARUMI! YOU WILL BE SUSPENDED!” captain isao roars in the in ear.

“FOR WHAT!?

“for always making everything about yourself!” you jab your gun at him, shoving him a step back. “where’s your teamwork? why do you keep making me feel like i don’t belong here!”

he stares at you, wide eyed.

he… he made you feel like you don’t belong? you, l/n y/n who always did better throughout every mission. you, who always messed with him when he didn’t get along with you. you, who was always levelheaded even to nag at him.

“only-“

“only the strong survive here! i know!” you seethe, “if you want me out so bad just tell me! don’t insult my skills! my efforts!”

“hey, i’m your captain-“ his argument is weak in his ears too.

hence, he feels, for the first time, like he actually is in the wrong when you growl and walk past him. you stomp off, fuming. are you about to leave the defense force? give him the divorce?

“just so you know-“ he yells, making sure no one else is listening in. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

you stop in your tracks.

“i’m prideful, i don’t play nice,” he chokes out, “but… don’t leave me.”

you turn around, anger long gone. but you’re still distraught. you’re just dissatisfied. “gen… not now.”

and he watches you leave.

— screw all his kaiju missions. he has to win you back, because just now he’s realizing he had you.

“gen, what are you doing.”

“i need money.” he says as he kneels before you when you finally return home.

you nudge his head with your boot, “get up. how embarrassing, you sure you’re my captain?”

“HEY! RESPECT ME-!”

you walk past him, leaving him alone. he huffs, watching you set your belongings back.

“don’t move those boxes!”

“you ordered a bunch of stuff from yamazon for what!?”

“it’s stuff we could need!” he argues.

you sigh and turn around, “like what, gen?”

“uh,” he scratches his head, then gives you an accusatory look, “i don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“uh, yes you do! have you forgotten we’re married!?”

he looks away, unable to form an argument. it’s a surprise, normally he’s quick to fire back at you, but he seems so at bay. it’s…

“disgusting,” you grimace, “what’s wrong with you? aren’t you used to being suspended? what’s with this change?” you look around, “hey, it’s even clean in here, despite all these boxes.”

“yeah so what?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “i’m way better at cleaning than you are, i just don’t like doing slave work often.”

“slave-“

“plus, we’re married,” he puckers his lips as he looks away from you, “aren’t chores like,, shared or something?”

you stare at him wide eyed. is he… for real? he glances at you and you’re heart skips a beat at the blush that crawls on his face. he’s for real. ah, what a darn cute knuckle head.

“this is only going to last a day isn’t it,” you chuckle to yourself.

[roronoacherries]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro

913 words

content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.

notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!

zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.

sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.

there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.

she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).

he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.

you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.

you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.

"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.

"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.

"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.

but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."

you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.

"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.

"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.

"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.

"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.

you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."

and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.

"you won't."

it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will. 

"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like. 

"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips. 

"‘m going to love you for a long, long time…"

zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it. 

“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears. 

"da-ddy yan-keh..."

and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway. 

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

masterlist | taglist

[miquella-everywhere]

genuine question:

why are you so into the idea that Godwyn was supposed to be the final boss?

diegetically speaking, that was Miq's first choice too, but upon realizing he couldn't be brought back (or properly killed) he settled for Radahn

A better question would be did anyone truly believe that Radahn of all people was going to be the final boss?

Evidently not if you consider that there were net zero MiqRad fanfics on Ao3 before the DLC came out.

You had everything in the base game regarding Miquella's intentions with reviving Godwyn set up perfectly. Golden Epitaph, the Eclipse, everything regarding the Wandering Mausoleums, the statue of them embracing in the Haligtree. The love and immense effort Miquella put into trying to grant Godwyn a true death was there. But then for the DLC to turn around and have Miquella be like "Nope! Radahn!" and reduce Godwyn to a dungeon decoration and have his lore be, "His Knights are waiting for his corpse to knock someone up," is genuinely braindead writing.

And worst of all we don't even get any crumbs regarding Miquella and Godwyns relationship. It doesn't say anywhere in the DLC that Godwyn was Miquella's first choice, and the fact that the DLC frames Miquella's "crush" as something that he felt since his younger years is fucking stupid because it cannot be proven with any base game lore.

THERE IS LITERALLY MORE PROOF TOWARDS MIQUELLA LOVING GODWYN IN THE BASE GAME THAN ANY FORM OF BASE EMOTION TOWARDS THE PROMISED RETCON.

....and yet the DLC gives us absolutely no, zero, zip, nada, negative, absolutely nothing regarding Miquella and Godwyns relationship. FUCK. THE DLC DOESNT EVEN GIVE US ANYTHING ABOUT GODWYN HIMSELF.

Radahns inclusion is a shameless disgraceful rewrite that ruins Miquella's character.

The Eclipse is forgotten, Miquella's love for Godwyn is forgotten, the entire base game plot revolving around the core of Miquella's character is forgotten, and it is infuriating.

From a storytelling perspective it is just absurd that all this build up was abandoned for something that cannot even be supported with any base game evidence. And since this is coming from Fromsoft, the people who had an incredible track record of making such satisfying and stellar DLCs and put the most effort in their larger than life stories, makes it hurt even more.

It just hurts man :(

[allastoredeer]

SALTY RANT

When did we collectively decide that Alastor is so obsessed with control?

Like, when did that happen? And what proof is there to it?

Do I believe that Alastor likes having control over himself and certain situations. Sure. Do I think he obsessively needs to be in control of everything all the times?

NO.

Seriously, can someone point out the scenes to me where Alastor exhibited an obsession with being in control? I've watched the show several times at this point, and when I try to pin-point any time that showed him wanting to be in complete control I come up with...nothing. Nada.

Throughout most of the series he wasn't even that involved with the rest of the Hazbin crew. He was there, in the hotel, but he was never trying to run things. He was aloof, he observed, he manipulated things to better serve him personally (like getting Vaggie to agree never to ask him to use television technology again), he sat in when Charlie did her exersizes, he did things they asked him to be, at no point did he show an intense obsession with being in control over OTHER PEOPLE.

I think the only time he has ever shown anything like that was with Husk in the "Dad Beat Dad" episode, but that wasn't even so much wanting to control Husk than intimidate and scare him for even suggesting that he's on "a leash."

I've never seen him want to control Charlie, even when he was manipulating a deal out of her. He's never tried to control Niffty, Angel, Pentious, Lucifer, literally none of the characters.

Any obsession he has for self control I think goes to himself, and even then, he's not perfect at keeping control of himself either. He rose to the challenge so quickly when Vox started to shit talk him, he was obviously annoyed when Carmilla dismissed his 7 year absence, and Lucifer got him riled up enough to say "fuck you" within minutes of meeting him.

Someone PLEASE tell me where in the show Alastor is actually shown to display characteristics of being obsessed with control?

Was it this line to Charlie: "A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures your the one who's always in control?"

Was it that? Was it this line that created the monster that is Alastor maintaining an obsessive level of control over other people?????? OH my god, I'm actually starting to feel insane.

I'm so tired of Alastor being boiled down to this control-obsessed, prim & proper, stick in the mud. There can be so much more to his character, please stop making this his defining character trait I swear to god i'm going to start chewing through my computer

Idk I'm feeling too many things tonight. i forgot to take my meds so my patience is so much thinner than it normally would be. Might delete later, I just needed to get it out of my system.

[magicalmanhattanproject]

[ID: Discord screenshot. The first messages from Angel read "Uhm, srry for showing up like this but i have the translation of what she said 'I've never had a private account and I won't have one now. There are some very rude people attacking me, for something I have nothing to do with. I had to change my name and photo to make it a little more difficult for people to find me. Just stop!' She also said ppl were trying to deactivate her acct"

The next message from sorrel (xe/xir or it/its) reads "okay yeah that is like. sufficient proof to me that this callout was not done with her wellbeing in mind"

The next message from Angel reads "(for reference, i cropped out her name bc i felt like it was the best thing to do)" There is also a twitter screenshot in Portuguese with the name cropped out which reads as follows:

Nunca tive conta fechanda e não é agora que eu vou ter. Tem uma galera muito mal educada me atacando, por uma coisa que eu n tenho nada haver. Tive que mudar nome e foto do meu tt p ficar um pouco mais difícil de me acharem. Apenas parem!

End ID]

For clarity: This is about the woman who Forever met up with when she was 14 and he was 19 (I've seen other ages given about both of them, but with no sources on any numbers, I'm going with what I've seen the most).

[pr3ttyp1nkvrse]

my persistence journey whilst in school. i am living breathing proof that ur persistence is ur method .. 8.25

since may i had applied for housing through my school. it had a waitlist, if my number was not called or chosen i would be left with no housing, and unfortunately it is a lot to handle paying rent and expenses for school all at the same time, i am an out of state student to add insult to injury lol. i still applied, and enrolled in classes for the next semester though (current)

i told everyone how horrible i felt about being in school though due to going through a major loss in my family.

i began to wallow in my sadness.. becoming so depressed. when i say i had nothing, i had NOTHING. then one day it rained while i was at work, nasty muddy i was so annoyed i got rained on at work and then .. i am not joking, i saw a double rainbow.. i looked at all the small things i had for the simple fact the sight of the rainbow was so beautiful.

a job, runnin water, a bed to sleep in, a phone to call, amazing followers on tumblr that were in the same persisting phase as me..

i started living for these things. i put my heart into everything, i became so mentally well put together i was ready for the school year even in the summer i started being active on my blog and all …

but then

i never heard anything back from my school. all my friends were getting housing assignments left and right and little ole me was getting NADA.. no emails, no calls from the school. i then called my school and they told me basically, i needed 12k more to attend my school. mind you, no housing already, and they began to drop me from all my classes. this began to become a distraction within my journey. i thought back to my original thoughts of how i spoke not going back into existence by living in negativity, so i really let this situation take a bigger toll on me believing i was gonna find a solution.

but yk what else ? i began to type on this very blog. i told yall, and i told myself I HAVE EVERYTHING. even when i looked at 3D .. and didn’t see anything.. only obstacles. i began to think well … what DO i have to get me out of this?

i have my mind .. i have ME!!

i missed the first week of classes and decided, this will not be the year i quit at ANYTHING. especially my DREAMS!! why would i ? because i went through something? news flash WE ALL DO! ITS THE CYCLE OF LIFE.

i marched to my school that same week, little 2 hour flight. thinking, they gonna have to give me something not because i deserve it and want this but because I SAID SO. I SAID I CAN SO I WILL! i cleared my mind though.. i never one time thought of what it was gonna look like if this situation did not work out for me in the best way.

long story short. i went back and forth between multiple buildings for three hours for them to tell me what they told me from the start. but i wasn’t compromising with that story. i sat in the financial aid office, as the worker is infront of me checking everything imagining a miracle .. visualizing them handing me my keys.

and sure enough. he told me they made a mistake on their end this entire time, i recieved the best on campus housing assignment! and that’s not by my standards, i genuinely got the best place everyone hopes to get. i didn’t think of the large pool of students my school had, seeing as one person coulda easily filled my spot.

i learned that

1. the tongue is POWER.

2. when i have nothing, that’s not true, i have ME.

3. don’t just persist, don’t take no for an answer and RUN for what your after. don’t just ask or hope for it!

4. you don’t have to be the happiest person in the world, but it helps to be positive when all you have is your mind, body, and soul.

5. be strong. don’t give up .. even when i was in a situation where i had to sit out from classes, abruptly get up and travel but i STILL believed there had to be something for me .. no crumbs .. a full meal covered in aluminum foil that i simply had to wrap off.

you got this. and i am PROUD at how far we’ve come TOGETHER. the universe is working for them, me, you, us.

-biggest B, senior year <3

also.. thank you all for the reblogs. it’s not many, but i know my post are reaching some and that means the world to me. i hope i’ve impacted you all in some way. even if small.

[orionsangel86]

Who do you think is better suited for dating Morpheus: Johanna or Hob?

Lol controversial ask! Jokes. I am guessing this came off the back of my response to the Calliope post the other week where I mentioned that I am loosely a Dreamling shipper but lean more towards Morphanna currently. I guess I need to specify that it very much depends on my mood because I am a Sandman multishipper at heart but feel different ships serve different purposes regarding Dream. I struggle to stretch them beyond the purposes I have set aside for them. Also it's Dreamling week and so one look at my blog would definitely give the assumption that I am a huge Dreamling shipper but that isn't actually the case. What I am is a Morpheus stan and everything else is peripheral to my focus on him and his story.

But sure lets dig into this. Honest answer? Neither because Morpheus is terrible and his track record alone is enough proof that he should never date anyone ever.

(jokes)

If we want to be sticklers for comic canon here, neither is suited because there are particular blockers in place for both ships.

For Morphanna the blocker is the rule that states that an Endless can not love a mortal. We have the Nada situation to show us what happens when they do. (Sun gets big mad and throws fireballs at the Earth)

For Dreamling the blocker is less carved into stone but its still gonna be a biggy for certain readers/audiences, being that Morpheus is not gay/bi/pan/queer whatever you wanna call him. For all intents and purposes in comic canon he's as straight as a ruler. However whilst we only ever see Morpheus's lovers as powerful, confident, beautiful female presenting immortal beings, we can throw in the tried and true argument we can apply to all of Neil Gaiman's non human beings which is that since he is not a human cis male, he technically can't be straight and since he has multiple forms and is as old as the universe itself, attraction is probably a very different thing to Morpheus than it is to any of us. It's entirely plausible that he could fall in love with a man shaped being (I actually have a meta in progress about Morpheus' potential queerness - sure it may ruffle some feathers but since I do this for fun and not to please anyone but myself I don't give a damn and will post it one day).

Anyway, that said the show could easily do away with both these blockers. We haven't had Nada's tale yet so whats to say the Endless are forbidden from loving mortals in the show universe? Nothing. The show could also easily confirm Dream has had past male presenting lovers (my money would be on Oberon in a threeway situation with Titania - or Pharamond if he shows up.)

So putting those elements aside, who is better suited to Morpheus?

In Johanna's corner we have the following;

She generally fits the archetype of past lovers and therefore could be considered Morpheus's "type" - beautiful, confident, argumentative, not phased by his status, not submissive to him, puts him in his place (listen we all know Morpheus has a submissive kink its practically carved into comic text lol).

Well versed with his "world" and supernatural creatures and can hold her own against them - being a Constantine has its benefits.

She cares - underneath her tough exterior its clear she has a good heart. She was able to bring him down to Earth, to give a human perspective that he needed at that point.

Flawed characters - Johanna considers herself a bad person and compares herself to Roderick Burgess. But Dream is quick to dismiss this. The truth is that Johanna may be messy and a bit of a disaster, but she is very selfless and good at her core. This could be a good thing as it could help Dream to see the good in humanity that he has been missing. Its clear she already helped with this in the show, but going forward, a relationship between them could help even further accelerate his change and make him a better being.

She encouraged the development of his relationship with Matthew. Something else he needed which she saw before he did. Basically she's smart enough to figure out what he needs, and when to press the issue or not. (she dropped the topic of his imprisonment as soon as he deflected to her photo).

She understands heartbreak and messy relationships - I think Johanna would be well suited to Morpheus because she is just as broken as he is, with almost as messy a relationship history. They have common ground there.

"It never ends well does it?" "What? Love?" She's realistic about relationships, which Morpheus - being Dream - needs. She can ground him, at least for a little while.

Johanna is also a powerful ally to have on side, it makes for excellent storytelling to bring her into the narrative regarding Lucifer and the stories revolving around Hell. She's competent, highly skilled, and I think he finds her impressive.

For Hob consider the following:

Friends first - for someone with such a terrible track record of past lovers, finding love in a friend is something Morpheus doesn't appear to have tried before, and this could be exactly what he needs. Dream and Hob have a shared history over 6 centuries, and those are strong foundations to build a relationship on, especially since they've already basically been through the big break up fight and heartbreak and are already in the rekindling phase.

Stories for the storyteller - the beauty of Hob's role is that he is Dream's respite from his world. The visits with Hob are the one time the Prince of Stories gets to sit and listen to stories himself. There must be peace in that, and we all know Dream desperately seeks peace.

Blind Devotion - Hob is patient, and he will wait for Dream. One thing that I think a lot of Morpheus's past lovers had in common is that they struggled to stick out the periods of time when he would throw himself into his work and basically forget about them. The relationships fizzled out after the honeymoon phase because Dream couldn't sustain that, even though once you have his love you have it forever. With Hob that wouldn't be an issue. He is the man who waited. Who never gave up hope that Dream would return even after he was stood up, and when he did return, Hob smiled and joked. It was all okay. Morpheus needs a relationship with that level of chill.

Flawed characters - Unlike Johanna, I think its safe to say that Hob is a very flawed character. He is selfish, greedy, self centered and ignorant to a lot of what takes place around him. Whilst he does grow and improve over time, his flaws are still a huge part of his character. Morpheus is also very far from perfect and it is this that makes them so well suited. There is almost an equal footing there. Hob could potentially see Morpheus's POV when it comes to the grander schemes, but at the same time, it is clear from their journey together in the show that they have a tendency to make each other better.

Grieving fathers - now this is an important one and its something I feel the comic failed to see the potential of. A huge part of the Sandman story is Morpheus struggling to come to terms with his grief over his son. Grief is a central theme. Of all the characters in the comic who Morpheus comes to meet, Hob is one of maybe two that share that experience - being a father whose son died too soon. I think the other character in comic who suffers this same grief is Shakespeare, which is an interesting parallel and one worth exploring. The show adds Roderick Burgess into the equation - making a fathers grief for his dead son the trigger for Dream's own imprisonment. The show emphasises the theme of grief far beyond the comic, which is definitely worth further exploration in a separate meta. The point is that Hob sits in this very small circle of characters who have shared Dream's experience. Hob is therefore in a prime position to help Dream where they can grow and learn to heal together.

Whilst he doesn't fit the archetype for Dream's past lovers, the differences Hob provides could prove to be just what Dream needs. He is still a handsome man (and God knows Dream gave him bedroom eyes in 1789) and he still ticks certain boxes regarding dominance, confidence, and an ability to hold his own in a fight. "You need not have come to my defence" suuuuure Dream but you did enjoy it nevertheless! Therefore attraction isn't an issue.

Conclusion?

Both Johanna and Hob tick certain boxes to meet the requirements for "love interest" and could easily be positioned that way for Dream. When I really dig down into it I think it depends on what fans are looking for in a Dream ship as to which character is best suited.

I love Morphanna for how messy it is. Yes, Johanna cares and has a good moral centre, but placing her into a certain role within the bounds of the canon story could actually be bad for Dream going forward. I see it as a dramatic relationship. It would be passionate, fiery, dramatic, chaotic, and will end in heartbreak.

I say this because ultimately Johanna doesn't do commitment. This is a clearly defined character trait in the show. Commitment is something she struggles with. Whereas Morpheus is all about commitment. He doesn't appear to do anything BUT commit to people and comes on extremely strong. I love exploring this dynamic between them. I think it would work brilliantly as a canon ship and I am still resolutely behind the idea that Johanna should replace Thessaly in canon and be the trigger for the rainsoaked Dreaming and the Brief Lives disaster trip.

So whilst I 100% ship Morphanna, I think I only ship it on a temporary basis. I struggle to imagine a future where they can have a happy ending and be together long term. Instead I see an ending where after all is said and done, Johanna stands and tells her story at the Wake, and mourns the creature she loved, and has to go on struggling to understand her role in his downfall. If we are seeking an alternative ending where Morpheus lives, I still struggle to see him settling down with Johanna as she is a mortal and I cannot imagine her ever choosing immortality or giving up her job as someone who saves people from the supernatural. She will never be Morpheus's queen. It just doesn't suit her character.

When it comes to Hob, as much as it sometimes irks me to admit it, he is very well suited for Morpheus even in an endgame/alternative happy ending way. Foundations based in centuries of growing friendship, his patience and ability to wait for Morpheus to get his head out of his ass, his being unphased at practically all the weirdness and oddities that Dream's world brings with it. The fact is, Hob is Dream's best friend. This is something that Dream needs so much more than a lover. Not only that but he is a friend who has shared history, shared grief, shared pain, blind devotion, and he is immortal. Hob will stay by Dream's side forever if he has the chance. So long as he still gets to live. Whether you see it as purely platonic, queer platonic, non sexual romantic, or fully romantic and sexual, they are in it for the long term.

Whereas Morphanna for me is a quick burning fiery passionate love affair that ends in tears and A LOT of rain, Dreamling is a very slow burn. I struggle with canon based fics that have them falling into bed shortly after the 2022 reunion because it feels out of character to me. If Dreamling were to happen, it would need to take practically the entire comic run story to get to that point. Hob's devotion to Dream is clear, but his awareness of its romantic potential is not yet there. I always return to Hob's dream in Sunday Mourning when I think of Dreamling, because for me, that is where a relationship between them would actually start, rather than end. Because I think it would take a huge event like Morpheus's actual death for them to pull their heads out of their asses and get together. Because you see even with all the arguments and debates and highly emotional opinions thrown around, I still feel deep down like Sunday Mourning is telling us that Morpheus escaped. He got out the narrative and is free from his cage, and now he's set for his own adventure off in the stars. The only person I can realistically imagine him taking with him is Hob Gadling.

At the end of the day these are my opinions. I want canon Morphanna, I just want it to end with a horrible messy break up because I want that drama. I am unsure if I want Dreamling in canon, but I do hope that if the show ends similarly to the comic, that we will get those scenes in Sunday Mourning and have them be extremely emotionally charged - if ever there is a Dreamling love confession, that is where it belongs. I can only really analyse my opinions on these ships based on canon but I am aware that fandom is a big sandbox and people can do what they want always with these characters. Please don't ever let my opinions deter you from shipping them to your hearts content in any way you feel like.

So I guess the TL:DR is that they are both suited in different ways. Morphanna is a mid story passionate love affair that I adore and want to end in disaster. Dreamling is an endgame slow burn friends to lovers that has the potential to go long term.

I love them both for their specific purposes, believe they both are suited for those purposes, but never the other way around. I hope this satisfies your question! :)

[the-empress-7]

They're just waiting for Charles' go signal to put out that an invitation to stay at Balmoral in August is extended - I despise Charles but he had already said long ago that he's not opening the Balmoral doors to them so it's not right to accuse him of things he hasn't done yet. As for the CoS please - the Boss Princess, Power Prince and the Duke of Edinburgh are there. Harold can keep being delusional and buy all the headlines in the world but people read right through him now. I know we all can get emotional and angry when Charles does nothing but bury his head in the sand but come on, we all know Harold is doing all these for the optics when the BRF doesn't acknowledge his circus shenanigans at all. He's provoking them and they are behaving like he doesn't even exist. He wants that drama, response, anything but nada. That's why he's getting desperate. His last stunt is proof enough - Charles made it known he can stay in St James's and that's it. He has clearly been distancing himself without giving any reason for dramas especially when he needs strength and peace the most now. Credit where it's due 🙏🏻

Thanks anon. I am baffled that he wants to make amends with Anne of all people. That one makes no sense to me, we all know Anne has no patience for him. She is his father's daughter through and through.

[v-anrouge]

PEIOLE SAY A LOT BUT ROOK HUNT STANS ARE RHE MOST STARVED OK U MAY SAY "OH BYT ROOK IS A FLIRT ROOK IS CONSTANTLY LETTUNG OHT LITTKE REMARKS TO MC" YEAH SO DOES EVERY CHARACTER, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THE OTHER CHARACTERS ALSO HAVE? FAN SEFVICE. WE GET NONE. NOTHING. NADA. NO SKIN SHOWING. NO PROOF KF THE MUSCLES YANA PROMISED. WE GOT THE MOST REJECTED OUT OF EVERY VALENTINE'S DAY LETTERS HE GOES FRIM MY LOVE TO BONJOUR.

BONJOUR.

HE HAS LIKE AHOUT 3 OR 4 LINES NOW ERADICATING ANY POSSIBILITIES OF HIM GETTING INTI ANY RELATIONSHIP AND THEYRE ALL CLEARLY TARGETED AT THE PLAYER ROOK HUNT HADN'T GOTTEN EVENT SSR SINCE >SECOND PSRT OF HALLOWEEN< GE ONLY GOT ONE IN 2023 NEW YEARS. WR ARE STARVED WE ARE ABANDONED AND WE'RE CONSTANTLY QUESTIONED ABOUT OUR TASTES JUST CYZ HE'S A LITTKE FUCKED UP AND HAS AN UGKY HAIRCUT WE ARE >STRUGGLING< YANA PLEASE WHAT THE FUCK DID WE DO TO YOU

[consanguinitatum]

The Smell Of Victory: Finding An Elusive Early David Tennant Performance

So anyone who's done research over a long period of time can understand that feeling you get when you find concrete proof of something you've either 1) been told is true, or 2) feel in your gut is true, or both. You're incandescent with triumph. Tonight is one of those times for me! So I just gotta crow about it. Anyone who follows me knows I research early David Tennant theatre performances for an upcoming podcast, right? WELL. Back in 2016, I had struck up a conversation with a former drama student and classmate of David's. He was a wealth of information, and (besides the other amazing things he told me) he mentioned one production in particular he'd done with David, and that the cast had done three separate runs of this production. I knew of two of the runs - and had plenty of documentation for both of those - so I thought it wouldn't take me long to confirm this third run. Result? Nada. Zip. Nothing. Fast forward to 2019. I am in conversation with yet another of the actors on this production. He, too, tells me there was a third run of the production, and independently confirms many of the details the first actor shared with me. Despite my complete failure to find proof, I found myself pretty darn sure it had happened. So I began the hunt again, and even contacted the theatre where both actors said they'd done the performance. Result? You guessed it. Zero. It didn't help that all I knew was that the performance had happened after the first two. It had been over 30 years since they'd performed it, and neither actor could remember enough specifics to point me to anything beyond that. But tonight, on a lark, I was searching in the British Newspaper Archive...something I've done many times before, of course. But you see, now I have a few years' experience doing these sorts of searches for my day job as an archivist, and I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. And I FOUND IT!

One tiny blurb. That's all. Just one. Of course it doesn't mention David - or any of the actors by name. Just the venue. But knowing everything I know? It's enough.

I love the smell of victory.

[sseanettles]

For the WIP ask game, oh you know I'm going to ask for more on Ruin. 😁 This series is my Dreamling life blood at the moment.

ohhhhh @windsweptinred yes, yes indeed, I did know you were going to ask for more on Ruin, but what to give you, what to give you, what to giveeeee youuuuuu....

you know what. you have been my biggest champion of nothing grows in corpses and this AU-verse as well as my buddy in "actually Hob and Dream are incredibly cruel and destructive and selfish people and we shouldn't whitewash that, it's a feature not a bug." So I think I'm gonna quickly do some typing and give you That One Fucking Scene where everything falls apart and we hit rock bottom as a reward. (this is a first pass draft below the cut so apologies for any errors or slight OOC-ness)

Gwen has been planning to leave Hob for a couple months now, as it has become clear that this is a dysfunctional dynamic that Morpheus and Hob can’t help but be bound to. She got a job offer at a university back in the States anyway, and he needs to stay here. What she’s planning to tell him (and what she’s practiced with Matthew) is a variation of “Morpheus needs you, and you need him. I need someone who can be present for my lifetime. Because I only get the one.” But then, Destruction comes for dinner. She never gets the chance to use it.

BIG spoilers and long excerpt ahead for ruin (of bitten lips and broken hands). The chapter song will be 2WEI's cover of Crazy for those who like to play along. and...tag warning for gore, violence, and discussions of assault. Talking about Nada's canon gets harder after all the NG fuckery but in light of that especially, I do not shy away from it.

+++++++

Hurt him, the voice, that voice, seethed within him—gnashing its teeth with black eyes and paper-white skin and hair as black as the pitch that filled the throats of animals and men mired alike in its fields until there was nothing left to do but gasp for air and die. Simpering, sickening, make him SEE—

Make him see that which he proclaims he loves in the blackest of mirrors.

“I killed my son, yes,” Murphy agreed, proclaiming the words with something that could almost be called pride, and he saw the flinch in Hob’s eyes as he spoke. Saw the confusion, the uncertainty at his delivery in response to what the man had intended to be context to behavior, not proof of Morpheus' malice. Oh, how blisteringly wrong the low-born idiot was, and when he continued, there was no more Murphy. There was only the truth.

Only Morpheus.

“But I disowned him first.” He stepped closer. Gadling’s balance tipped further, unsteadied. Morpheus’ lips curled, baring teeth like fangs, and he let that light into his eyes that he had kept smothered for so long in this suffocating home: that light of Endless righteousness. “Left him dismembered and begging for the mercy of death and refused him it when I was one of the few who could grant it.” He guided his advance by the backs of the stools at the kitchen island, by the chair Destruction had left pulled out at the table when he had bid his farewell, both too early and too late in his departure. He closed in on Gadling like a predator, like a spider upon a web the humans were only now seeing had been spun about every inch of their home far, far too late. “And when I did grant it?” Was he smiling? Grimacing? Laughing with the tears of the unhinged and anguished in his eyes, with the heat of a manic king? Morpheus could not tell, but his face was doing something, his blood boiling in his veins with the same wild, untethered thing that twisted within him in the way that Destruction laughed and laughed and laughed and— “I did not do so until it served my purposes.”

Gadling looked distinctly ill. Gwen was not far behind him, her normally warm cheeks taking on a decidedly more ashen tone as she stood there with one hand still braced on the counter, near the cutting board and the barely touched bird sliced open upon it.

Perfect. Ill was what Morpheus wanted, disgusted was what he wanted. Enough of this charade, of this pretending. Gadling wanted to preach of his missteps, of betraying his evolution? Gadling wanted to scold him? In the same breath that he championed themselves?  Their journey?

Then, let the charlatan face that which he upholds.

“I damned a woman to hell for no greater crime than refusing to love me,” Morpheus spat, drawing closer still, his hands clawed and shaking. Gadling stood tall, unmoved not with conviction but with the paralysis of the doomed deer in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. But there was no truck, there was only his Stranger before him, stooped and unfurling like a kettle about to explode. Morpheus’ words came faster, unraveled, more impassioned. “Condemned her for thousands of years—starving, alone, tortured, in agony for millennia.” Hatefully. “For exercising her right to consent!”

None of this was news to the immortal; he had seen it himself in the prison of Fawney Rig. And yet, Gadling’s face had grown as flat as stone. He scarcely seemed to breathe, and somehow the dispassionate response only fueled the molten rage burning away the fallen Endless’ insides. The heat fissured through to the surface, turning his skin brittle and fractured until it was tearing him apart. Morpheus laughed, his eyes creasing, and something as searing as acid cut its way down his cheeks as he did. He dragged himself forward another step by the guideposts of the furniture. His hands shook. His legs trembled in kind, and he forced them to steel.

“I let a universe burn into madness because I could not kill a single child, my pride and my principles were to great a treasure to me,” he intoned, slowly drawing his stooped height up to its full towering form. “I rotted in a glass and iron sphere for a century rather than succumb to my pride and plagued the world with my absence! Robbed millions of their lives, robbed the Kincaid family of normalcy and joy!”

He was so close to Gadling now. Close enough to strike him, and he threw a hand toward the man—a damning, condemning jab, as the furnace blew.

“AND YET YOU FAWN OVER ME, EVEN NOW!” Morpheus bellowed, and Gwen screamed at his sudden, uncharacteristic roar, something clattering across the counter behind Gadling’s back. The mercenary seemed to grow taller and broader at the sound, interposing himself squarely between them.

Between the halves of his heart, Morpheus sneered, and went for the kill, grabbing the man by fistfuls of his shirt front.

“YOU!” Gadling grunted, startled, and took a half-step back only to come up short beneath Morpheus’ stunning strength—an evolution he had kept a carefully guarded secret in this prison of a home. Gadling’s eyes flashed, taking him in head-to-toe in the manner of a soldier, a killer, and not a friend, and Morpheus’ eyes burned brighter at the returning grip that seized his wrists on fighter’s instinct. He laughed again, mocking, scything, aching. “My only friend,” he sneered, almost sing-songy, fracturing, and once again the acid cut its way down his sharpening face, “a human who profiteered over the slavery of other humans, the chattel of Africa—”

He felt the shift in the man beneath him. Felt the grip go from steadying to defensive, from stilling to get the fuck away from me, and he struggled to hold fast as Gadling tried to push him away.

“—who acquired a wife and son as if they were naught but more trinkets to collect—” Gadling tore his hands free and slammed him back a few steps with open palms to the chest—his face, god his face, it had gone pale, his eyes wide, red, stop, stop, too far—

Morpheus caught his balance easily; his stance braced, battle ready, to Gadling’s own, and he glared blindly into his friend’s setting face.

Destroy him.

“A GLUTTON!” he finished in a roar. “And yet!” Morpheus spread his arms, laughing, laughing, laughing—crying, you are crying, stop, breathe— “He preaches to me!”

Gadling was trembling. Head to toe, the man was trembling, his face going from pale to now dark with abject rage, his hands curling into fists, his arms tensing to iron in turn, his back heel grinding as his knees began to bend, and Morpheus’ chest heaved. His mind had gone fuzzy and beyond the bounds of control or sanity. He knew where to go next. He knew, precisely, where to go next, where he had to go next, to destroy this man at his very core, to take a sledgehammer to the last, threadbare beam holding his illusion together like glue and tape—

Destroy him.

He took the breath…

Destroy me.

And the plunge to follow.

“And your latest conquest?” Morpheus prompted with a mocking, taunting saunter back into the man’s reach, a chin jerked toward Gwen where she was still ducked behind him. “Is she merely a method by which you can alleviate your guilt or—”

Pain split across Morpheus’ mouth, his lip scything open on his teeth that knifed with white-hot pain all the way through his skull as something cracked, his nose shattering into a spray of hot blood and crunching agony—

His head snapped back, and he hit the ground just as hard, the air and his words knocked from his chest in kind. And as the stars and the tears cleared from his eyes, Morpheus worked himself up onto his elbows. Gadling loomed above him. His right hand was splattered with their blood, split where the knuckles had struck teeth, and his chest heaved, setting his whole body trembling with the depth of his fury.

“YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT HER!” Gadling’s rage shook the very rafters, echoed clear out onto the street even through the closed windows, left their ears ringing, and Morpheus lay beneath it in silence, slowly touching a hand to his wounded face. “YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT ELEANOR! YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT ROBYN! YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT LIZZIE!” He paused, his breath stuttering, his body shaking so terribly that for a moment words failed him until his teeth bared in a clench. His eyes glittered. “BUT YOU ‘SPECIALLY DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT HER!” His hand swung around to point toward the last place he had seen Gwen, the rest of him remaining fixed upon his Stranger, and he glared down at the man beneath him as if he could not fathom his very existence, as if he were a wholly alien species, unknown and unknowable to him, disgusting. Incomprehensible. “AFTER EVERYTHING SHE’S DONE?!”

What an impressive display for such a hypocrite, Morpheus glowered back at him. He lowered his hand from his nose and lips as he forced himself back up into a reclined seat, balanced on a single arm with his weight tipped onto his healed hip. His fingers were coated in rapidly darkening red, and he felt the blood coursing down his face, soaking into the black of his shirt, never to be seen again, and spattering the wooden floors. He spat out a mouthful of blood, licked his lips with a reddened tongue, and looked up.

When he did, it was not at Gadling.

“Has he told you?” he panted, his eyes dark, his voice a sickening combination of goading and truly wondering. “Has he told you all he did on those ships of his? To your ancestors?”

Gwen gulped and stepped back from him on shaking legs, jumping near out of her skin as she hit the cabinets, and immediately swung the carving knife to point down at him, gripped in two trembling, pale-knuckled hands.  

Murphy just laughed, fragile and mad and mocking.

“Do you know, truly, the man with whom you share your bed?” he pressed and saw in his periphery the way Gadling’s expression changed. “Or has he got you fooled with his stories of woe and regret?”

His final words grew wicked and sharp, deriding, and his matching gaze slid from the shaken Gwen to Gadling as the man let out some kind of twisted, whimpering exhale.

His face…his face was a most exquisite betrayal, as if Morpheus had just plunged a knife into his very heart down to the hilt and twisted. His hands had gone limp at his sides, the fingers still trembling but slowly unfurling from their fists. His shoulders still heaved with battle breaths, those gulping, grounding things that filled your head with oxygen and your limbs with energy, yet every bone in him seemed to be fracturing. Every muscle seemed to be losing its strength, and his eyes….

His eyes were so very filled with heartbreak.

“…How could you say that of me—”

“Were you on the ships?”

Gadling froze at the sharp, wavering demand, his own achingly genuine question to the man he had laid out on the floor dying on his lips. And he followed Morpheus’ unblinking, dark eyes to slowly, oh so very slowly, turn on his heel.

Guinevere stood where she had been stood before, backed against the cabinets with the knife held before her in both hands. But where once she had been terrified, defensive, holding the room at bay with shaking hands, her stance had firmed. She was no longer recoiled against the wood but braced against it. Her eyes had recovered some clarity, some strength, and both sharpened the longer the silence dragged on. Her grip on the blade adjusted, eased from throttling to sure.

“What?” Hob asked.

Her eyes never wavered from his, and she took a step forward, gesturing between him and Morpheus with the blade. The silver gleamed in the warm glow of the island lights, and Hob watched it move with a prowling of disquiet deep in his gut.

“You told me that you profited off the slave trade,” she accused. “That you owned the ships that stole my people across the Atlantic, took cotton one way and my ancestors the other. And I thought…” Hob watched her, held her glittering gaze with quiet somberness. Her chin trembled on her next words, the shine in her eyes brightening. “I let myself think….”

“But the shit you’ve described,” she gritted out and swiped at her eyes with her free hand, “the things you knew they did…” She pointed to him with the knife again. Took another step forward until she was standing alone on her own strength, with no wall to hold her.

Gadling did not move so much as a finger; his breaths grew careful, damp. On the floor, Morpheus grew extraordinarily still, shrunken back toward the floor, as if rendered to stone, and watched all that was unfolding with unreadable eyes.

Guinevere no longer held the room at bay.

She just held the room.

She took another step forward. And she repeated her question, the wobble in her voice worsening even as she tried to embolden her stance, tried to square her shoulders and stand tall.

“Were you on the ships?”

Robert Gadling beheld the woman he loved, with her microbraids and her beautiful, dark skin that smelled of coconut oil and her earth-after-rain eyes and the stray bits of paint around her cuticles that she hadn’t quite managed to clean away. He beheld her height, her strength, her soul, her gorgeous face that had the most beautiful smile and laugh now caught in a horrible moment of realization and denial. Her artist’s hands that were now clenched around an implement of cooking turned lethal weapon….

He slowly raised his hands to his shoulder. Her chin shook and then clenched shut, and she shook her head in a vicious denial.

“Gwen,” he started, quiet, apologetic, placating, and she took a final step forward, bringing him to a standstill with the point of her carving knife.

“WERE YOU ON THE SHIPS, YES OR NO, GADLING?” she screamed.

Silence rang in her wake. Morpheus’ heart was in his throat, his words all dried up inside him as if they had never been there to start with, and he watched Gadling’s back as the man took a deep breath and slowly released it. He could see Gwen’s control spiraling, her mind buckling under the realization of what was coming, the inevitable truth, the truth Morpheus had forced to the surface. Her second hand came up to support her wrist, to steady the blade, and the tears in her eyes neared the tipping point. But still Gadling did not speak. He only stared at Guinevere, held her anguished eyes, held his hands where they were at his shoulders, and breathed.

What was he thinking? What was he doing, what was he—

Robert Gadling beheld the woman he was partly responsible for creating, seeing through her to her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, her great-great-grandmother—to whoever it was that his industry had kidnapped from her home, whisked away to be little more than an animal bound in servitude and cruelty until death. The true answer to her question was a complex one. It was a simple one. And there was a way to say it that would shatter her heart but end with the knife clattering from her hands to the floor as she sobbed and wailed and screamed at him to get away from her as he moved on well-meaning but ill-timed intent to comfort her. There was a way to handle this that did not end in brutality.

But the corner of his mouth itched to smile, to crack open wide like the pavement artist and laugh and laugh until he cried, until he sounded manic and battle-mad and hollow…so very hollow.

There was a way to handle this that did not end in brutality.

But that was not how Robert Gadling wanted this to end. And so, with his last full, painless breath, he answered Guinevere’s desperate cry with the bluntest, simplest truth he could. He gave her a small, sad, I’m so sorry, love, I’m so, so sorry smile—a tragic acceptance, an I forgive you for what you’re about to do, an it’s okay.

He shook his head. Let out that breath in a heavy, sepulchral sigh.

Where you on the ships, Gadling, yes or no?

“I started it all.”

The pause as Gwen processed his words, as she struggled to parse the reply to a yes or no question, as she realized what he had just admitted to, the implications of it, seemed to last an eon. The way her face frowned, first in bafflement, in dismay, in refusal, in rage, in anguish—all the stages of grief switching between each other like a flip book repeating endlessly, mis-bound in the wrong order—it filled Hob’s heart with a sickening lead. But in truth, it took no more than a breath, for he had not completed his next inhale before her tortured countenance made its choice.

And on the floor, Morpheus’ heart stopped beating as Gwen loosed an anguished, desperate scream. It echoed from her very soul, raked its nails up her throat as it tore from the fibers of her heart. It spilled the tears from her eyes, left her eye-teeth bared like fangs, and the grief of generations turned to pure anger as, in a single, life-changing moment, their beloved lady of Camelot moved.

Gadling let out a strangled, animalistic wail of pain as a single line of slicing agony split open his abdomen, and he stumbled back, crashing into the island counter and the stools, as his hands clutched for the source of the pain and immediately found themselves full of something writhing and hot and thick like sailing rope. Something that could not seem to stop expanding, that just poured and spilled, meters of it, endless—

The scream came again, and he forced himself to meet Gwen’s hate-blinded eyes, forced his arms to remain at his eviscerated gut, cradling his spilled intestines rather than defending himself, as she followed him down and stabbed the blade down again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again—

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, a wet splat of blood and viscera and flesh and bone, and Guinevere was left straddling a mess of blood and gore where once there had been the man she had loved. His gut had been split from nearly hip to hip, leaving his innards to spill out, to entangle his hands and bind them in his own sinew and flesh. Even now, she could see the intestines moving, the peristalsis causing the organs to shift and squirm in his twitching hands like snakes. His eyes were still open, still blinking through the blood spray that had flecked into his lashes. They looked agonized, terrified, yet somehow accepting all the same. His mouth, filled with blood, continued to try to swallow, to push the pulsing crimson from his airway with his tongue to no avail, and when he coughed, weakly and growing weaker, the blood sprayed and bubbled. His ribcage, riddled with holes, sputtered and quaked as he tried, even now, to breathe through lungs that could not expand, could not deflate—that could only drown and drown and drown. His legs beneath her twitched and kicked, desperate for air, for the fear to be gone.

Drowning, he had once told her. Always hated drownin’ the most.

And as she stared down at him, she saw not the individual pieces of horror detached from context, not the murder of a man who had had it coming for centuries, not the murder of one of the founding fathers of chattel slavery, not justice. Not peace.

She saw the crimson-soaked blade clenched in her shaking hand yet held aloft for another strike. She saw her other hand fisted in the ribbons of his shirt, a shirt they had picked out together last summer break. She saw the blood drenching her clothes, her thighs, could taste it in her mouth.

She saw Robert.

She saw Robbie.

And Morpheus watched the scene in silenced, terrified horror from his paralysis on the floor as Gwen’s mask of rage faltered to a mirror of his own, and she began to wail. Her hands clapped over her mouth, smearing her face with Robbie’s blood, the killing blade still clenched tightly in her fist. She pushed herself off of him, slipping on and crashing to the blood-soaked floors in the process as her sneakers transformed to ice skates in the viscera.

“Uh-uh,” she begged, whimpering, shaking her head desperately, “nuh-uh, wh-what did I—wh-what did I—no! No, mm-mm, no—” The word drew out in a choked-back wail, and she scrambled to her feet, fleeing, as she saw the tears falling from Gadling’s eyes that watched her even now. “No! Nononono—”

And, the knife still clenched in her hand, Guinevere bolted.

[esuemmanuel]

Ajeno a todas mis creencias, estos días me he sentido pequeño e insignificante. Hay un conflicto de intereses dentro mío. Por una parte está este inmenso amor que me tengo y, por otra parte, yace la decepción de la que he estado comiendo desde que, algo en mi cabeza, comenzó a procesar mi visión de la vida. Habitan en mí dos filosofías, una me eleva y la otra me entierra… y estos días he estado siendo enterrado. Se me acabaron las ilusiones, no las siento… no las hay. He cortado lazos con personas que creí eran parte de mi alma y eso ha dolido más que cualquier herida que mi cuerpo pudiera sufrir. Y es que, cuando crees tener la certeza de una unión perfecta, de ésas que son a prueba del tiempo y de la soberbia humana, te dejas llevar, pensando que nunca podrían romperse y acabar. La realidad es que sí acaban y las creencias que pudiste tener, junto a la certeza, perecen, dejándote en un agujero oscuro y vacío del que no tienes la mínima intención de salir, porque no lo vale ¿para qué? ¿Qué caso tiene? Si la certeza que tenías sólo fue una ilusión, una idea, un sueño… algo que habitaba en tu mente, nada más. Las otras personas jamás creyeron en esa unión y, si lo hicieron, dejó de importarles, porque dejaste de ser importante, dejaste de darles lo que necesitaban de ti. Es duro enfrentarse a esta realidad, más cuando tú siempre estuviste para esas personas. Al final, se confirma la sentencia: “nacimos solos y moriremos solos”.

— Esu Emmanuel©️, Oblivious to all my beliefs, these days I have felt small and insignificant. There is a conflict of interests within me. On one side is this immense love I have for myself and, on the other side, lies the disappointment I have been eating since, something in my head, began to process my vision of life. Two philosophies dwell in me, one elevates me and the other buries me... and these days I have been being buried. I have run out of illusions, I don't feel them... there are none. I have cut ties with people I thought were part of my soul and that has hurt more than any wound my body could suffer. And the thing is that, when you think you have the certainty of a perfect union, one of those that are time and human pride proof, you let yourself go, thinking that they could never break and end. The reality is that they do end and the beliefs you may have had, together with the certainty, perish, leaving you in a dark and empty hole from which you have no intention of getting out, because it is not worth it, what is the point? If the certainty you had was only an illusion, an idea, a dream... something that lived in your mind, nothing more. The other people never believed in that union and, if they did, they stopped caring, because you stopped being important, you stopped giving them what they needed from you. It is hard to face this reality, especially when you were always there for those people. In the end, the sentence is confirmed: "we were born alone and we will die alone".

[destinyc1020]

Destiny! I have to say my Sunday confession now ‘cause I might forget lol

I just came across a Priscilla tweet where people were hating on JE in the quotes and someone said he only gets hate off a baseless rumor that he cheated on Zendaya. Now, while I agree we have no idea what happened between those two, something not great happened and you can’t change my mind. When Tom started getting massive hate after July 2019 (cheating rumors included), Zendaya tried to let her fans know that they were still cool. Liking his insta post, posting herself playing Spider-Man, heck even Claire was liking stuff about Tom. But with JE? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. She didn’t lift a finger to help that man. Even after he posted a story asking people to be nice. Silence. Major side eye, girl! I don’t care what anyone says.

Hey Anon! 👋🏾 I didn't forget the confession that you sent in earlier this week so you wouldn't forget it for CC lol. 🤭

In answer to your confession..... Yes, I agree w/you completely. I think you are definitely on to something. We don't know for sure if JE cheated on Zendaya... To me, cheating allegations are pretty serious, so unless the person claims themselves that they were cheated on, or there is actual valid proof or even just a "hinting" from the injured party that infidelity was involved, then I don't think fans (who weren't even in their relationship) should be speculating something that serious if they don't have any solid facts.

With that said however, I definitely get the impression that they did not end on the best of terms based on some of the things you mentioned, and some of the other things I observed as well during that time. 👀

Firstly, I just think Z's rlshp w/Tom was much different overall, and let's face it, she was probably still in love with Tom even though they broke up, I'm sure there were still some feelings there, so I'm sure she didn't want to see him getting dragged by the media or by fans. 😔

She also knew that their breakup had nothing to do with infidelity, so there was no real reason to "hate" on him. I think her playing the spiderman game and wearing the "MJ sweater" was a way to let her fans know that "hey, we're cool....".

Z has always said that her fans who follow her closely will always know "what's up", so she knew that some fans were aware that she and Tom were an item during the 1.0 era.

IDK what JE did (maybe he was just a jerk?), but I feel like he must have done something that totally made her feel blindsided or something, cuz when he left in March due to covid, they seemed fine..... But by July, it was 1000% clear that SOMETHING had happened... 👀

[bronsautracks]

I played through jaws of hakkon again and EVERY TIME I finish the “where we once walked” and hear Ameriden’s Telana memory I get riled up because WHY..

did they shoehorn in a direct and translation of “tela’nadas” (nothing is inevitable) UNLESS it was to put rest to that specific, word-for-word translation being commonly attributed to solas’ response, “banal nadas” (possibly: the void/end is inevitable, an unfortunate inevitably/it must be done) to the nightmare demon in the fade.

Further support of this key difference in the meaning of the two phrases lie in:

The romanced inquisitor angry reaction to trespasser conclusion- “ma lasa banal ghilana!” (You lied to me/you led me astray, or more literally, you gave me bad/poor guidance)

Solas’ own admission, regarding his personality- “I AM grim and fatalistic” He’s not an optimist. He hears the nightmares taunts and responds with, “it is what it is,” because ya boy effed up miserably and is just doing his best with what he has.

And like I never wanted to argue this so when I last made a post about the revelation YEARS AGO someone said “it can be both” and I went with it because I’m not really big on discourse BUT IT CANTBE BOTH OKAY, they are representative of entirely opposing ideals and all I have as proof are these two points and the click of it all coming together in my brain that grinds against the thought that it’s being misinterpreted ever, even once.

So yeah, I think certainly ‘banal’ is literally translated as ‘Nothing’ but capital nothing, as in “The nothing” or “the void” which means that using it as a descriptive word or prefix would just give negative connotation to the following word or phrase, hence: “You gave me poor guidance!/you misled me!” (Ma lasa banal ghilana) “the end is inevitable/an unfortunate inevitability” (banal nadas)

Where as “tel” means ‘nothing’ as in “no thing” “not a thing” “none” so instead of negative, the connotation is nullifying, hence: “nothing is inevitable” (tela’nadas) “no apologies!/you’re not sorry!” (Tel’abelas!)

Also, Netflix, BioWare, Jesus, whoever, please, a show about inquisitor Ameridan next time you feel like doing a whole animated dragon age project. 🙏 absolution was great and after seeing it and playing jaws of hakkon I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED