#i could be doing more and is it not foolish of me to do more when the opportunity presents itself? or am i running myself into the ground?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

Could you write something about a villain finding out their long lost supposed dead brother is his nemesis (the hero)

Dunno, i just love how your write personal drama between rivals and reveals

"Stop," the villain hissed, "talking like you know me."

"I know you're better than this. I know you want more than this-"

The villain advanced, cutting the words off with swift lethal slashes of his blade. It forced the hero to parry, armoured arm bands clanging as he blocked blow after blow in turn, forced to retreat.

Pathetic. Weak. Unwilling to fight properly. To make the kill. It would be the downfall of the hero - the villain would make sure of it! Fury coursed through his veins.

"I know I let you down-"

"-You?" The villain laughed, scornful. In an instant, he had his blade at the tender vulnerabilities of the hero's stupid throat. "You're-"

"-I know," the hero said through ragged pants for air, "that you want to fly away!"

The villain froze.

"Excuse me?"

There was only one person he had ever confessed as much to, and that person was long gone.

"Dale."

His name was soft, a little broken, on the hero's lips. As if the villain had already plunged the dagger through into the hero's windpipe and left them gasping, wheezing, choking on a fatal wound.

"God, Dale," the hero said. "I'm so sorry."

The villain's eyes widened.

The hero grabbed his blade arm, twisting and forcing him expertly to drop the weapon, seizing the other wrist for good measure. They tousled and the movements - the struggling closeness, the precise way that the hero knew to pin him - no. No. He was slammed up against the wall, the other blade clattering to the floor.

"I know," the hero said, against his ear. "That you're better than this. Better than - better than your family. At least you can be. If you want to be. Do you still want to be? Or am I too late?"

The villain wanted to turn, abruptly, as the familiarity of the voice settled over him. It was deeper, rougher, than it had been when they were kids. It was unmistakable, though, once the realisation sank in. His body stiffened.

"Don't you fucking come at me with a dead man's voice."

"Do you still want to be? I don't have long. Dale, please-"

The villain bashed his head back. He was taller than he had been when they were boys, and the back of his head collided with the armoured mask covering the top half of his brother's face.

The hero groaned. His grip loosened just enough for the villain to follow up with an elbow to the ribs, seeking out any weakness the hero was foolish enough to grant.

He snatched up a knife and - damn it. It once again hovered just at the hero's neck. Trembling. The hero grabbed him by the hip and hurling him down. The knife went clattering again. They rolled, reduced to something less like seasoned fighters and more scrapping like children.

"Dale, for god's sake-"

"-Don't for god's sake me," the villain snapped. "You ghost. You - you bloody traitor!"

"We don't have time!"

"YOU LEFT ME! MAKE TIME!"

The hero went quiet, went slack beneath the next roll, letting Dale shove him down against the icy concrete floor. Up close, Dale drank in more of the obvious so damn obvious signs. The hero's eyes. The line of his jaw, less-baby faced, but...

"Henry."

He didn't allow his voice to break. Or maybe there was nothing in him left to break. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

The hero swallowed. "Come with me. I don't - I won't - leave you again. Not here. Not with them."

The villain considered that, chest aching. The hero was being sincere, that much was clear. Ten odd years ago he would have followed anywhere his brother asked. Ten odd years ago he wouldn't have recognised the man - the weapon, the warrior, the oncoming war - that he had become.

"We need to go now," the hero said. "I know a way out, but-"

"-I'm not going anywhere."

He'd never seen the body, it was true. His father had always said it was too ravaged, too terrible a sight. That he should remember his brother as he was. Their most vicious, their best, everything that Dale should aspire to be.

"Dale-"

He drew another of his many blades, and that time he struck. The knife buried deep into his brother's shoulder. Not a kill shot. Enough to really, really hurt though.

His brother bit back the scream, for what that was worth, so maybe they were still blood. Maybe father's training still held.

"-You left me with them, and I made them mine." He leaned in, teeth bared. "So, yes. You're too late. I suppose Dale can rest in peace with his brother's body, can't he?"

He pulled back, leaving the knife in, as he straightened. He stood over his brother's body, feeling like he'd run a triple marathon. He wiped the blood away from his cheek, hoping his eyes were cool but knowing they were not.

The hero leveraged himself up, slow and wary, clamping pressure down on the wound.

Distantly, Dale could hear footsteps. His honour guard. His bloodhounds. The dark throne he had clawed himself a survival out of.

"I never meant to leave you behind," the hero said. "Father he - I can still help you. Let me help you."

The villain scoffed. It seemed he did still have something in him that could break after all.

"Fly away, Henry. You stay any longer and you won't have wings either."

His brother stared at him.

The footsteps grew louder.

The villain raised an eyebrow, drawing another blade, twirling it swift and savage between his fingers.

"I'll be back," the hero said. "Now that I - I'll be back. I promise."

Then, the villain watched him run.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 08 || THE FOX'S LAIR ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

I snuggled deeper into the comfort of the goose-down bed and turned toward sleep again, hearing with half an ear the baby’s whining, interspersed with hiccuping sobs, and Jamie’s deep, tuneless humming, the sound as comforting as the thought of beehives in the sun.

“Eh, wee Kitty, ciamar a tha thu? Much, mo naoidheachan, much.”

The sound of them went up and down the passage, and I dropped further toward sleep, but kept half-wakeful on purpose to hear them. One day perhaps he would hold his own child so, small round head cradled in the big hands, small solid body cupped and held firm against his shoulder. And thus he would sing to his own daughter, a tuneless song, a warm, soft chant in the dark. The constant small ache in my heart was submerged in a flood of tenderness. I had conceived once; I could do so again. Faith had given me the gift of that knowledge, Jamie the courage and means to use it. My hands rested lightly on my breasts, cupping the deep swell of them, knowing beyond doubt that one day they would nourish the child of my heart. I drifted into sleep with the sound of Jamie’s singing in my ears. Sometime later I drifted near the surface again, and opened my eyes to the light-filled room.

The moon had risen, full and beaming, and all the objects in the room were plainly visible, in that flat, two-dimensional way of things seen without shadow.

The baby had quieted, but I could hear Jamie’s voice in the hall, still speaking, but much more quietly, hardly more than a murmur. And the tone of it had changed; it wasn’t the rhythmic, half-nonsense way one talks to babies, but the broken, halting speech of a man seeking the way through the wilderness of his own heart.

Curious, I slipped out of bed and crept quietly to the door. I could see them there at the end of the hall.

Jamie sat leaning back against the side of the window seat, wearing only his shirt. His bare legs were raised, forming a back against which small Katherine Mary rested as she sat facing him in his lap, her own chubby legs kicking restlessly over his stomach.

The baby’s face was blank and light as the moon’s, her eyes dark pools absorbing his words. He traced the curve of her cheek with one finger, again and again, whispering with heartbreaking gentleness.

He spoke in Gaelic, and so low that I could not have told what he said, even had I known the words. But the whispering voice was thick, and the moonlight from the casement behind him showed the tracks of the tears that slid unregarded down his own cheeks. It was not a scene that bore intrusion. I came back to the still-warm bed, holding in my mind the picture of the laird of Lallybroch, half-naked in the moonlight, pouring out his heart to an unknown future, holding in his lap the promise of his blood.[...]

~~~

“He and his niece seem to have got on well together.”

The picture of them came back to me, Jamie talking in earnest, low tones to the child, tears slipping down his face. Jenny nodded, watching my face.

“Aye. I thought perhaps they’d comfort each other a bit. He doesna sleep well these days?” Her voice held a question. “No,” I answered softly. “He has a lot on his mind.” “Well he might,” she said, glancing at the bed behind me. Ian was gone already, risen at dawn to see to the stock in the barn. The horses that could be spared from the farming—and some that couldn’t—needed shoeing, needed harness, in preparation for their journey to rebellion.

“You can talk to a babe, ye ken,” she said suddenly, breaking into my thought.

“Really talk, I mean. Ye can tell them anything, no matter how foolish it would sound did ye say it to a soul could understand ye.” “Oh. You heard him, then?” I asked.

She nodded, eyes on the curve of Katherine’s cheek, where the tiny dark lashes lay against the fair skin, eyes closed in ecstasy. “Aye. Ye shouldna worrit yourself,” she added, smiling gently at me. “It isna that he feels he canna talk to you; he knows he can. But it’s different to talk to a babe that way. It’s a person; ye ken that you’re not alone. But they dinna ken your words, and ye don’t worry a bit what they’ll think of ye, or what they may feel they must do. You can pour out your heart to them wi’out choosing your words, or keeping anything back at all—and that’s a comfort to the soul.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as though this were something that everyone knew. I wondered whether she spoke that way often to her child. The generous wide mouth, so like her brother’s, lifted slightly at one side. “It’s the way ye talk to them before they’re born,” she said softly. “You’ll know?”

I placed my hands gently over my belly, one atop the other, remembering.

“Yes, I know.”

She pressed a thumb against the baby’s cheek, breaking the suction, and with a deft movement, shifted the small body to bring the full breast within reach. “I’ve thought that perhaps that’s why women are so often sad, once the child’s born,” she said meditatively, as though thinking aloud. “Ye think of them while ye talk, and you have a knowledge of them as they are inside ye, the way you think they are. And then they’re born, and they’re different—not the way ye thought of them inside, at all. And ye love them, o’ course, and get to know them the way they are … but still, there’s the thought of the child ye once talked to in your heart, and that child is gone. So I think it’s the grievin’ for the child unborn that ye feel, even as ye hold the born one in your arms.” She dipped her head and kissed her daughter’s downy skull. “Yes,” I said. “Before … it’s all possibility. It might be a son, or a daughter. A plain child, a bonny one. And then it’s born, and all the things it might have been are gone, because now it is.” She rocked gently back and forth, and the small clutching hand that seized the folds of green silk over her breast began to loose its grip. “And a daughter is born, and the son that she might have been is dead,” she said quietly. “And the bonny lad at your breast has killed the wee lassie ye thought ye carried. And ye weep for what you didn’t know, that’s gone for good, until you know the child you have, and then at last it’s as though they could never have been other than they are, and ye feel naught but joy in them. But ’til then, ye weep easy.” “And men …” I said, thinking of Jamie, whispering secrets to the unhearing ears of the child. “Aye. They hold their bairns, and they feel all the things that might be, and the things that will never be. But it isna so easy for a man to weep for the things he doesna ken.”

35 MOONLIGHT~DRAGONFLY IN AMBER

... tha obair agad. 'se an obair sin, a chaileag, gum fàs u làidir agas sona. Na diochuimhnich......

...have a role to play. Yer role, wee lass, is to grow. strong and happy. Ne'er forget...

... gu bheil do theaghlach timcheall ort, fad na tide, fiù 's nach bith sinn ri fhaicinn. Do sheanar 's do sheanmhair, mo bhràthair Uilleam, mi fhéin, Sorcha. Tha sinn san fhiodh, sa chloich agas ann an gach fuaim's fàileadh an àite seo..

... yer family is all around ye, all the time, even when ye canna see us. Yer grandsire and grandmother, Uncle Willie, me, Aunt Claire. We're in the wood and the stone, and the sounds and smells of this place...

[malopascal]

One shot: we found our way back to each other

"Can we please just talk..." Pedro begged, his eyes looking so tired and his composure exposing nothing but defeat and heartbreak.

A sigh left your painted lips as you avoided his begging gaze, looking through the room of his sister's home, silently missing the hours the two of you had spent in here, laughing, talking and making love.

"Talk about what? You told me two months ago that you weren't ready for a relationship, that I should find someone else who could settle down", you purposely threw Pedro's words back to him in hopes that they would also cause him the same pain it caused you eight weeks ago.

You finally focused your eyes on the Chilean actor and saw how he closed his eyes in shame and shook his head. "You're trying to kill me, mi amor" he whispered before opening his eyes.

"No, you killed me with those words. I thought that I had meant something to you, we had spend four months together, making all these beautiful memories that I can never forget", you spat as tears started to brim your eyes.

"I know, I know (Y/N)...".

"No, you don't. You don't know that I've been faking a smile for weeks, pretending that my life is so fucking awesome and continuing to work like you didn't rip my heart out of my chest, Pedro".

The actor took a step closer to you and quickly took your soft hand in his, his eyes were begging you to take him back. "Words can't describe how foolish I was. I thought that I had made the right decision, allow you to go and be free before my crazy and hectic life would get in between us, and we'd be forced to break up anyway...".

His words made you frown as you slowly shook your head in disbelief.

"Bullshit, Pedro. I accompanied you while you worked and traveled, still made time for my own life and friends and family and not once did I ever voice or think that your celebrity life would become too much for me...How could you make this decision for yourself and then punish me for it?", the tears were now streaming down your face, the aching pain in your chest making it hard for you to focus as you stared at your love. The betrayal still sat deep in your soul and you wondered if you could ever get past this.

"You tossed me aside for nothing, based on assumptions...And then you moved on like we never happened, like I didn't give all my love to you!" you couldn't help but increase the volume of your voice as you finally had the chance to speak about your heartbreak.

After Pedro had suddenly broken up with you through a quick phone call, he had blocked you and went on a promotional tour of his upcoming projects, making you feel lost and abandoned while he continued to live his life in front of the cameras.

Since the two of you were able to keep your relationship private, due to the fact that you were an actress as well, barely anyone noticed how you were crumbling and pretending like you hadn't lost the greatest love of all time.

"My love, I-" Pedro chocked back on a sob before clearing his throat and wrapping his strong arms around your waist, still looking at you like you were the only, most precious thing walking the earth.

"I just wanna know why. Why did you get rid of me like that?" you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, hating how your heart skipped a beat and a delicate sensation of adoration rushed through your body. You knew that touching him alone would have you weak, but in that moment, you didn't care at all.

"I'm almost fifty, it's been years since I had a serious relationship (Y/N), I have anxiety and assumed that it would take a few more weeks before you would get sick and tired of me and my job and leave me..." the actor confessed with a heavy heart.

"But I can't describe the agony I have been in ever since we parted ways. All I can do is think and yearn for you", his beautiful brown eyes gazed deeply into yours while he leaned in closer, his breath dancing along your lips as you let out a soft sigh. God, that man still had you so crazy in love and a part of you thought that he'd try to make up sappy excuses and then leave you alone.

"I am so sorry for what I did, and I know you're just as heartbroken as I am. It's my duty to earn your trust back and show you the blessing that you are to me. Please...." Pedro leaned in and pressed his soft lips against yours, frowning at the pure sensation of your soft lips against his. You pulled away, your head spinning from the passion while you stared deeply into his eyes, your breath coming out in short puffs as you were overwhelmed.

"Please what?" you exhaled as the tension in the room shifted from sad to something else.

He leaned in again, stealing another passionate kiss while his arms pulled your body closer to his. That's when you noticed something throbbing against your lower stomach. You couldn't help but let out a weak moan as your body was succumbing to this man.

"Allow me to win your trust back and show you that I am your man. Yours." Pedro whispered, his breathing increasing by the second as the two of you stared longingly into each other's eyes.

The wetness already had gathered in between your thighs as all you could now think about was feeling him move deep inside you, have him fill you up all the way and talk you through the sensual acts of love.

"I-" Pedro didn't even let you finish your sentence before he had stolen another kiss from your lips, his tongue tracing your lower lip and silently asking for permission. Which you instantly granted.

His big hands immediately started to roam your body, caressing your breasts and shoulders while he moved the two of you towards the bed.

He kissed your neck after having placed you gently onto the mattress, your silky black cocktail dress already being torn from your body. "I need to taste you", he begged.

You instantly opened your legs and quickly got rid of your thong before your love had his head position in between your thighs. "You're so wet" he praised while giving you a soft smile, leaning in closer to where you needed him the most before darting his tongue out and flicking your sensitive clit.

"Yes", you mewled while throwing your head back, your wetness sliding down your inner thighs while your love instantly got to work and devoured you right then and there. His eyes didn't dare to move away from your face as he needed to look at you. He needed the assurance that he was pleasing you, giving himself to you.

He licked and lapped at your swollen clit and drenched folds, dipping his tongue into your hot and wet cunt, loving the way you weakly moaned his name and grind your hips in sync of his movements. Behind your clenched eyelids, you saw stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul.

"You taste divine" Pedro whispered, moaning your name over and over again while his eyes still didn't look elsewhere. He had always been in awe of your beauty and knowing that no other had seen you like this was making his heart swell in his chest with pride.

Before you knew it, your love was kissing his way up your body, positioning himself in between your thighs while he quickly got rid of his dress shirt and freeing his hard cock from its tight pants.

Your eyes fluttered open and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of Pedro staring down at your face, his eyes drinking in the beautiful sight of you. It took him a few seconds to let his hard cock slide up and down your folds, gathering the slick wetness before whispering how much he loved you.

You couldn't even answer as the sensation of his cock slowly sinking deep inside you overwhelmed you. Your inner walls welcomed the hardness as they stretched and took him deeper. A weak moan left your lips.

"I missed you so much" you chocked out before the first stroke hit you. Pedro closed his eyes and immediately started to snap his hips against yours, hitting your sweet spot over and over again while having leaned down and now gently kissing and sucking on your sensitive neck.

The pure pleasure raging over your body was too much.

The feeling of him buried deep inside you...

His weak moans of your name...

The quick motions of your body desperately wanting to reach that beautiful high together.

It was all too much.

Your toes curled as you felt the delicious knot form in the pit of your stomach, your inner walls were clenching onto your love's cock for dear life while the delicate shivers running up and down your back made it hard for you to focus on anything.

"I am right here, my love. Come on, take all of me and show me you love it. Take it all, it's all yours" Pedro groaned, his hips snapping faster against yours while his hand was now circling your sensitive clit, making the knot tighter and tighter by the second.

You clung onto his broad shoulders as the next deep thrust threw you into the wild, gushing and overwhelming peak. Your orgasm rippled through your body and you couldn't control it. Your inner walls clenched tightly around Pedro's cock as his warm spurts filled you all the way up. That man was almost screaming your name as he continued thrusting his hips in a sloppy manner, wanting this intense and beautiful sensation to never stop.

The weak moans leaving your lips grew softer by the second while the tremors of your high tingled through your body. Your eyes slowly opened and Pedro's adoring smile made your heart swell in your chest.

"I love you'" he confessed.

"I love you too" you responded in a soft huff, still trying to catch your breath.

[francesderwent]

so I heard you wanna talk religion in ttpd! let’s talk I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can).

“they shake their heads saying ‘God help her’ when I tell ‘em he’s my man.” this isn’t the outright controlling judgment of the saboteurs in But Daddy I Love Him. nobody is trying to tell her what to do or force her to break up. this is a simple admission that the situation she’s in is difficult, that she’s chosen a hard path and needs help. and what is her response? “your good Lord doesn’t need to lift a finger, I can fix him, no really I can.” she admits salvation is needed. but Taylor is casting herself as the savior. she doesn’t need any help, any grace, any divine assistance. in fact, she doubles down: “only I can”. she and she alone has the power to reform this man, because of the love between them. it’s reminiscent of False God, except now the idol isn’t their love, it’s just her. she’s going to save him.

what’s interesting to me is we don’t know how the themes of salvation would have been recapitulated in light of the reversal at the end of the song, “whoa maybe I can’t”, because the song ends there. maybe she can’t fix him because he is ultimately unfixable, irredeemable, worthless. or maybe she can’t fix him because she’s not God. and honestly, I think the song is meant to leave us wondering. she’s waking up to reality, but is the reality his smallness of soul or her power trip?

so what is the blatant Christian language in this song for? is it telling us that Christianity is evil for implanting the idea of redemption into our minds when it doesn’t really exist? or is it a hint that trying to become our own gods, even with the best of intentions, is a pathway that leads only to death?

[shadowslocked]

Mmmmm it’s hard for me to put into words but I feel the reason why people have such a hard time with this Q!Foolish arc is that it doesn’t really fit easily into most arc/tropes what have you

Is Foolish being manipulated and used? Yes, a lot of Cucoruchos language is very off and clearly intended to pull Foolish in. Foolish also suspected this and wanted to see what would happen anyway because he thought it would be fun (unsure if he means in a meta or character way).

Is Foolish probably in some danger by interacting closely with the Federation meaning it’s harder to pull away? Possibly but I don’t think Foolish is overly concerned about his safety at the moment considering his response to a possible trap for him was to go “Let’s check it out :)”

Is Foolish a neutral/amoral immortal who doesn’t fully grasp the consequences of his actions? Most likely yes given he’s asked twice now if he’s made the wrong choice, but he’s not so amoral that you can say he doesn’t care about Tazercraft or what happens to the other islanders.

There’s no way for Foolish to know about the harsh conditions of the prison or about Tazercrafts traumatic past? Yes, very true, Foolish largely has a positive view on the Federation and likely assumed they would be okay and returned later like Max was BUT ALSO dude had no way of knowing that and you know what they say about assuming. Whether or not he knew Tazercrafts past prior, he doesn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of that trauma when talking about it with Fit

Tazercraft likely would have been arrested anyway? Yeah more than likely and while I do think it’s the Federation setting up a decoy to take the heat from them it’s still a dick move on Foolish’s part

Foolish has been completely honest? Foolish has been pretty upfront with most information BUT he is also lying about doing it to keep Richarlyson safe and has been keeping the fact it was Cucorucho that hired him a secret. So yes, Foolish isn’t a complete liar but he has lied because he knows the true answer wouldn’t be satisfying to the others

But he can’t tell the others? As far as I have seen Foolish was never threatened or sworn to secrecy, you might say he’s doing it because he does genuinely believe the Federation doesn’t want him to tell but it’s also just as likely Foolish just knows people would be even angrier with him if they did know the truth

TLDR: basically Foolish is very weird in his arc because it’s not a complete villain arc (or at least my understanding of one) but his actions are also not good either but also Q!Foolish could have a very different view of what’s happening due to his immortality but also that doesn’t change that he hurt Tazercraft but also he does care about them but also he’s a silly guy

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various recent pictures of things

[orcelito]

I'm at the painful "confession" scene during the kage summit arc. It really is so emotional, but also... hm.

When I was younger, like 13 or so, I was a big Sakura and Naruto shipper. They were the first pairing I read fanfic for even. And in a way, I do still enjoy the two of them together... but it's moments like these that really drive home the fact that it Doesn't really work in canon. Not the way that it's set up.

As Sakura puts it, "Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke! That's all you think about!"

She's told that Naruto has feelings for her and decides to use it to convince him to stop going after Sasuke. She does love him, but not in the way she's trying to confess. The love they share is one of comradery, not necessarily romantic. The love of two people who have gone through such pain together, and who have leaned on each other throughout it all. And the fact that she's turning around and saying she loves him "simply like everyone else", now... it's trivializing. And the fact that she's trying to convince him of this, the fact that she thinks she Can convince him of this, is pretty hurtful. They've come a long way from when they were kids, Naruto the goofball vying for her attention while she yelled at him for being stupid. Sakura respects Naruto so much more than before, and Naruto respects her too. So the fact that she's still doing this... She's desperate, really. She thinks the promise he made to her to bring Sasuke home is what's driving him to let himself be hurt over and over and over again in the pursuit and protection of Sasuke.

But she's wrong.

That may be part of it, but it's only part. Naruto wants Sasuke back for himself, too. He let himself be beat up to avoid selling him out. He chases after him with single minded determination. Sasuke is his entire drive to get stronger, to catch up, to bring him home. Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke indeed.

As it is, Naruto knows she's lying to herself. And no matter what she says, he will keep going after Sasuke. Because that's just the person that Naruto is.

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[kimmkitsuragi]

not my first reaction to this information as i learned it during the intermission of challengers (yes i finally went to see it) and i was having a lowkey breakdown through the intermission and the beginning of the second half a little bit but ummm: well of fucking course i literally dont deserve anything

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Oh haha yeah I'm definitely feeling better <- he is not talking to people

[rutadales]

cfoolish morals are central to all the conflict he faces in such a compelling way. it's specifically the fact he holds himself to a higher moral standard then the people around him— he won't kill people and won't take revenge. and those choices cost him everything again and again and again and he keeps making them. he keeps choosing to be kind, to be forgiving, to be lenient, and throughout the story he loses more and more people— through betrayal, through distance, through loss of faith.

one of the most interesting to me is csam bc sam never hurts him, but it's sam's action in the prison that completely change how not just how foolish views Sam, but foolish's entire worldview. "Maybe you are right, maybe everyone's a scumbag". But this damages foolish's and sam's relationship to the point that the June 6th conversation is one of the last they ever have in canon. bc foolish's morals can't let him stomach being friends with someone who would do that. sam was his friend. And it's this loss of faith in his friend that shakes foolish to his very core— to the point he starts considering throwing everything he believes away, because why is he holding himself to a standard no one else is?

it must be so lonely, being kind in a world like that.

[kamomie]

* don't mind me just ranting in tags and being /neg ヽ(^○^)ノ

Edit: just practiced self-care and deleted twitter...

[gatun-gatunesco]

...

[hylianengineer]

I have had this headache for over 12 hours now and I’m fucking done with it

[samwisefamgee]

Every day I grow closer to throwing my phone into the river and when I do I won’t fucking regret it

[bulldagger-bait]

Will never forget being a kid and telling someone i was south african only to have them ask:

"Did you have clothes in africa?"

"Had you ever had a bath before coming to Australia?"

"Did you live in a house with walls and bricks?"

Like. Yeah, I guess we were 8... But also i feel like a lot of people's understanding of "Africa" has never really progressed past that point.