#the ultimate scheme

[razzafrazzle]

strange old men!! theyre married for tax purposes (and gay purposes but thats less important)

[image description: a drawing of human designs for coach z and bubs from homestar runner. coach z is depicted as a lanky pale-skinned older man with a tooth gap, a five-o'clock shadow, and balding curly light brown hair with a grey streak through it. bubs is depicted as a bulky, dark-skinned older man with short greying afro hair and a short beard. end id]

[vanityangel]

SOLO SIKOA WWE BACKLASH (MAY 10, 2025)

[orions-shiny-belt]

If you have to pick only one between hua cheng and xie lian to be a trans guy the obvious answer is hua cheng. there’s no cis man alive with the level of swag and aura he has. cis men cannot juggle the different aesthetics he has and make it work

[dragonpyre]

Just. Fem Jason

Commission info ko-fi

[a-confused-spoon]

I know Kevin and Ben are the biggest source of comedy in the show, but no moment in Ben 10 will ever make me laugh as hard as the face Michael makes when Gwen healed him to ask for his help did.

Like he's genuinely so surprised

"YOU came looking for ME!? For HELP!?! How bad is this?!"

[whatevertheywant]

I have a theory that probably isn't new,but I think that Galinda probably had a very lonely childhood and may not have actually been popular until like 8th-10th grade. She was obviously doted on and surrounded by yes-men from an early age,but I think she empathized with elphie from the beginning. I also think she was scared to express that for fear of losing the image she had so carefully crafted. She feels all this "loathing" as well as love towards Elphaba because she sees everything she still could be if she were braver...unfortunately this also includes becoming a pariah. Mind you,she does make wisecracks about elphie being green but they both enjoyed their little spat in history class. That Ozdust dance scene really seems to drive it home with how she joined Elphaba's dance. Okay,that might have been out of remorse for setting her up like that,but the comforting???? The wiping her tears and the embrace???? Ignoring her toxic ass friends trying to get her to stop when she's usually all about image???? Her doing the most to secure her date and position of love interest with fiyero only to ditch him entirely to run off with Elphie????

And THEN we get the Popular sequence. It's not just a flirty or silly little number (it is those things but it's more than that). Popularity has helped her rise up the social ladder despite a lack (at the time) of talent. Her ambition to become a sorceress is altruistic if also self-serving. She wants to actually DO and BE good and feel like the adoration she seems to acquire so easily has been earned. She tries to help Elphaba become popular because Elphaba IS good and has so much talent. BUT Elphaba lacks social skills and isn't conventionally attractive. Elphaba gave her a leg up towards her goals by not only insisting Galinda be in the seminar as well but also THREATENING TO QUIT THAT INSTANT if morrible didn't include her and give her the training wand. They both spend the rest of act 1 bar like a couple of scenes helping each other advance until they have to part ways inevitably. That's love born of empathy and understanding. The "galindafying" was her protecting Elphaba and literally the best gift she was able to give in return

[zestyaahbutler]

A seras and Brutus for a @judasiscarithot

[dchuntress]

huntress, in the middle of an animated rant: i'm just so tired of him, spoiler, it's not even funny anymore. he is so obsessed with me and tracking my every move and judging me with this air of arrogance and moral superiority, as if he'll always be better than me and i ought to repent for that! i just!

spoiler, reaching for helena's half-drunk glass while she still has yet to finish her own milkshake: are you gonna finish that or can i have it?

huntress: yeah, sure, whatever. do you know what he said to me the other day? and i've heard what he said to you too, as well as to babs. i think batman just hates women.

[piratespencilart]

Chetney is really fun to draw. c:

[blightbright]

i made a meme lmao

i'm bringing my argument back again (here's my previous post with more deets: Reminder: Solas planned it) because of some recent posts (that i lost and can't find anymore! not vagueblogging! zero bad feelings about the author(s) of those!) about how solas left the eluvian to his ritual unlocked and how incompetent that makes him look.

although i'm critical of a lot of veilguard, this writing detail only makes me grin about solas' scheming.

see the post for more but the tl;dr is solas:

encouraged the people of thedas to prepare for an apocalyptic threat

gave them approximately 8 years to do so

arranged for elgar'nan and ghilan'nain to get loose in front of the person varric chose and trusted to lead the charge, because imprisoning the evanuris was unsustainable and would result in worse outcomes in the long run

also created a situation where he could actively advise the process of defeating the evanuris while being perceived as a villain (as in, without needing to rely on trust)

does not deny anything when called out directly, just says the quote i put in the meme while being like >:0 how dare

i'm onto u, babe

[daylighteclipsed]

Cloud’s interest in the piano in Rebirth feels so random and sudden, but I like to think it’s his subconscious trying to draw him closer to Tifa. Like his true self is trying to jog these very old childhood memories from when he and Tifa were friends, before he pulled away from her. Days of running back and forth to each other’s houses, when Tifa’s mom was still alive and teaching Tifa to play the piano. Cloud used to listen to Tifa play piano when they were little kids as, if you perform well in Tifa’s Nibelheim quest (My White-Haired Angel), he remarks that she sounds a lot better than he remembers lol It also feels very pointed that our introduction to the piano mini game is through Cloud’s flashback of Tifa’s room, and that the only time these mini game skills really matter for the player is during Tifa’s side quest, when she plays the piano in (the exact replica of) her room for the first time since she was a kid.

[moongothic]

WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

So normally we only get fullblown, extended and dedicated flashbacks for heroic characters in One Piece, the characters who we're meant to root for. The literal only TRUE exception we've had to this rule was Big Mom's flashback. Even fucking Doflamingo's flashback was tied to Law and Rosinante's

So the fact that we haven't gotten a single fucking GLIMPSE at Crocodile's backstory is?!?

Like sure, we haven't gotten like a Moria flashback, but you know, he literally told us all we needed to know himself, AND we got to see glimpses of him in the Wano flashbacks. Arlong didn't get a flashback of his own, but he did get to cameo in Fisher Tiger's flashback. And Rob Fucking Lucci got a flashback that was 6 whooping panels long

BUT CROCODILE?? Not only do we know almost Fuck All about his story, but also have never gotten as much as a glimpse at it? But his backstory has been HINTED and TEASED at multiple times??

GUYS. FELLAS

Like. I am SURE the "Full Backstories for Heroes Only" rule is going to get broken again, but with Imu and Blackbeard already there just BEGGING to have their beans spilled, can we even be sure Sir Fucking Crocodile is somehow going to become A Villain So Dangerous To The Narrative that he ALSO should also recieve a Full Fucking Backstory?? For his Nefarious Schemes?? AT THIS POINT??

Y'all

I think it's more likely Oda's been saving up Croc's backstory because it might just completely recontextualize his entire character

[niinnyu]

i would like to ask you about your baseless, 0 proof, purely made up iguin theories

ARH THANKS FOR ASKING!

Ok while Iguin is pretty androgynous (hell yeah) it comes more from not knowing their gender than them having a disregard for their gender (as of now, especially when their identity is being actively hidden from us). My theory is that if Iguin has to be gendered in any way, they are likely a (maybe masc) woman.

This is more from a symbolism perspective as well. The 3 people who've been monumental in Coco's journey as a witch are Oruggio (who's spells made her fall in love with magic in the first place), Iguin [who gave her the tools to use said (and more!) magic], and Qifrey (who gave her access to knowledge to then use those tools well).

For all 3 of these crucial characters to a young little girl be men feels kinda off? especially with Shirahama's writing (in a meta narrative way, not that the men are weird ofc phew) . It's extra interesting because Iguin's methods aren't particularly clean and to have the most blatantly """morally""" dubious person of these 3 be a (likely rightly motivated) woman has enamoured me.

[quadrantadvisor]

I would adopt Jack Spicer. I would support his evil schemes specifically because they were his only form or regular socialization. I'd be like, "When are all of your little friends coming over?" and he would be like, "You mean my ENEMIES who I am trying to DESTROY!?" and I'd say, "Oh you're so imaginative sweetie 😊" and he'd say, "please stop letting my mortal enemies into my evil lair" and I'd be like "I made this zucchini bread for them, make sure you give it to them next time you see them" and he'd be like "okay" and then he would eat the entire zucchini bread by himself.

[nite-puff]

The danganronpa writers really created a character who was the complete antithesis to hope’s peak and some major characters in later games only to pretty much play him for laughs and then kill him off early.

silly little man. representing the very thing the evil organization stood against and actively tried to prove wrong. and yet was still invited to be a part of their school. only to die. silly taka.

[wyvernquill]

I'm rewatching Anastasia and this convo would really fit in your AU

Hob: look, Murphy, I'm just trying to help Murphy: do you really think I'm an Endless, Hob?

Hob: you know I do.

Murphy: then stop bossing me around

I'm sorry, this ask is already over a year old, but I finally got around to writing a scene based on it! (Plus some Murphy&Gil bits I wanted to put in somewhere, anyway.) Hope you enjoy!

[Mild warning for contemplation of one's potential death, and having once lost the will to life - I wouldn't call it suicidal ideation, it doesn't quite go there, but I figured I'd better be safe than sorry.]

Link to Anastasia AU Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

“Hob.” Murphy interrupts, eyes flashing with frustration.

(Today’s how-to-be-a-Dream-Lord lessons are not going well - not that any of them have, but this one is a particular catastrophe. Gil has already given up on their contrary charge for the evening, and with the way Murphy’s shoulders are up and tension bristles between them, Hob is unlikely to make much more headway tonight.)

“Tell me. Do you truly believe I am him? The Prince of Stories? The Dream King?”

“Yes,” Hob lies, easily, unflinchingly, and with a smile on his face. A good lie has to be treated like the truth, and maybe, one day, it’ll actually turn into one. They’ve been trying so very hard to teach Murphy this, he should know it by now. “Of course.”

“Then, perhaps,” Murphy spits, and despite his feral arrogance, despite the way he holds his head high and squares his slender shoulders, it’s not the regal indignation of a King, but the helpless tantrum of an angry child who’s failing in class. “You ought to finally treat me with the fucking deference an Endless is owed, Hob Gadling!”

(There are tears in his pale-blueish eyes, Hob can see them, can hear the crack in Murphy’s hoarse voice.

Nobody has treated this man with respect in all the years he remembers, that much is obvious. Nobody but his birds. And he knows, they all know, that he’s no prince, that his blood runs red, not blue - runs at all, come to think of it. Endless don’t bleed.

But he wants to be. He wishes he was. Murphy is not Dream of the Endless, but he is ravenous for the spoils of such a role. Desperate to be respected, to be worshipped and revered, desperate to be owed the sort of treatment he has never received.

Hob ought to be ashamed of himself for taking advantage of that helpless hunger for kindness and decency… and he will be. For the rest of his immortal life, he’ll live with the shame of what he did to cheat Death, and still not regret it.)

Hob plasters a smile over his impatience and opens his mouth, gentle, calming words already on the tip of his tongue. Murphy is lonely and frightened and frustrated, that much is obvious. Fine. Hob knew it wouldn’t be easy, to teach their false Dream all he needs to know, and this is not an insurmountable roadblock. If Hob can only reassure him, earn his trust, be his friend, even, it will make everything much easier. Poor thing, lashing out like an injured animal. But Hob can surely coax him into-

Murphy recoils. Flinches back from the admittedly-half-faked warmth, his face, his entire bearing collapsing into itself like a heavy portcullis rattling shut.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pointing one of his stick-thin fingers at Hob’s face, “don’t you DARE! I have no need for your false pity, and I want no part of it! I want-” the white of his eyes is bloodshot, and in his terror, in his fury, in his desperation, awash in unshed tears “-I want out. This deal is off. Find some other poor sucker to teach how to play Endless, I won’t do it! I’ve had enough!”

And before Hob can say as much as a single word, Murphy has snatched up his coat and slipped out onto the rainy street, Matthew following - but not after awarding Hob with a colder glare than he would’ve thought a mere raven capable of.

Murphy does not manage to flee very far.

He is in an unfamiliar town, with no money, no valuables besides the clothes on his back that are now slightly finer than he used to be; and the winter is cold and deep and stifling. He gets no further than a handful of streets until he slows halfway across a bridge, shaking with cold more than anger, snowflakes dancing around him. It is a quiet, windless night - and it has always calmed him, to stand underneath the dark sky at night, and know that most of the city lies asleep around him.

Matthew settles on the bridge’s parapet, caws. Hops closer, cocks his head to one side. There is a clear question in his bearing, a what now? glinting in his eyes. Birds are open and honest - unlike humans. Liars and hypocrites all.

“...I do not know, Matthew.” Murphy admits quietly. He has taken the coat, but forgotten the scarf in his haste, so he tugs at his collar, to keep the cold air from trickling down his spine. “I truly don’t.”

He does not have the means to return to London on his own - and at the same time, does not have much desire to do so. He had nothing and no-one there, but for the birds. Pockets can be picked anywhere - he could make a new start in this nameless town.

…if only it weren’t winter.

Murphy shivers, feeling his bones rattle with it. The night is calm, but bitterly cold, and it will not end well for him, sitting in the snow until morning. In the dark of winter, he cannot afford a night without shelter, a day without a sure way to come by some food to keep his strengths up. In London, he would have known where to go. Here, he is helpless.

Damn Hob Gadling, and may Destruction take him! Murphy will have no other choice but to crawl back to him, and hope he’ll be kept on as Endless-impersonator. Hope, because Murphy’s made a right pig’s ear of it so far, slow and clumsy to learn, and outright refusing to play at nobility. He will always be a gutter rat, Murphy knows it. They can’t fashion him into a Dream King, and perhaps this flare of temper will prove to Hob once and for all that there is no point in trying.

There is no point in trying.

Murphy gives up on his collar, and rests his hands on the parapet. Matthew caws, and presses his head against his arm, a far better reassurance than Hob’s false smiles. It comforts Murphy, at least a little. He’s not alone, never alone - no matter how lonely he might feel.

Underneath them, a foreign river flows just fast enough to avoid the freeze. The water does not reflect any stars, but the snow dancing over the surface makes it almost look as if. His own reflection wavers and breaks across the waves.

(Some nights, he dreams of a darkened shore and a sea stretching far past the horizon, black waters that fold up into the night sky, indistinguishable from each other. Of a wooden pier, and galaxies swirling underneath.

Whenever he leans out too far, the reflected eyes he meets are not his own, and he wakes with a scream lodged in his throat.)

Murphy shivers again, and savours the last remnants of his pride, before it, too, will have to be cast into the dirt and abandoned.

“I believe you forgot this, young friend.”

Murphy’s head snaps up.

Dreams and nightmares approach without a whisper, perfectly silent at night if they choose to be. Gilbert is no exception; and if Murphy were to pay attention to anything but his heart racing like a startled hare, he would perhaps be a little distressed by the fact that there are no fresh footprints in the snow beside his own.

But it’s only Gilbert, kind-eyed and not-human, holding out Murphy’s scarf like a peace offering.

Murphy does not take it.

“Did Gadling send you?” he asks, wary.

“Robert informed me what had transpired between you two.” Gilbert admits. “But rest assured, I am here on nobody’s behalf but my own - and, well, yours. Frightfully nippy tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

Murphy does not say. He trusts Gil as little as Hob, perhaps even less. A dream attempting to betray the memory of his master seems hardly like a paragon of virtue, and is perhaps even more suspicious than a deceitful human.

(He does, however, take the scarf now. It’s too cold to be stubborn, and when he winds it around his neck, it smells of sunshine on a summer meadow, warm and comforting.)

“And if you truly wish to leave… dear boy, I won’t stop you.” Murphy does not like the way Gilbert looks at him, as if trying to see someone else beneath his skin. He does not meet Murphy’s eyes, if he can help it. “In fact I would send you off with well-earned compensation for your time, and travel fare. Unless…”

Gil steps up to the parapet beside him.

“...unless I can convince you to stay…?”

“Why would you?” Murphy mutters, instead of why would I, if you’re offering to pay me off? “It should be perfectly obvious that I’ll never pass muster.”

“Ironically,” Gilbert smiles, but only at the man he pretends to see whenever he looks at Murphy, “it is well known among the former denizens of the Dreaming that His Lordship was often prone to very similar bouts of pessimism. I have faith in you, Murphy - and so does Robert Gadling. Please, do not leave. I rather doubt we will succeed without you.”

"You…" Murphy struggles with the words, the sentiment behind them lodging uncomfortably in his throat. "You have great respect, even love, for Dream of the Endless' memory. So why do you pretend? Why try to fool his siblings that I am him?"

For a moment, Gilbert seems ready to insist, as always, that Murphy is, or at least might be - but, to his credit, he does not play Murphy for a fool, in the end. Not this time. Not like Hob always, always does.

"You are quite correct. I loved His Lordship deeply, in a way that could never be understood by anyone but a dream and their creator." Gilbert sighs, his soft meadow-green eyes gazing far into the distance of better days, lined by old grief. "He made me to be the Heart of the Dreaming, and he was the Dreaming, so I knew his heart and self better than any other. The loss, when he… you cannot imagine it, young friend. I thought I would wither away and die. I thought that would be a mercy. To live as a dream in a universe that does not contain Dream of the Endless seemed entirely unthinkable, and to be quite frank, I did not think I would survive longer than a year at most in the Waking."

"I understand," says Murphy, quietly, and he does. He is no stranger to the feeling of being so untethered, only floating along with the end looming over him, death - not Death, no longer, the Endless have been cast from their domains - only biding its time.

(In the first year he can remember, Murphy did not think he would see another, either.)

"And yet, the year passed. And I lived." Gilbert smiles, faintly, taking off his glasses to polish them. "I suspect it was humanity which saved me, for all that they robbed me of my home and Lord, as well. I found… such joy, in this world. In my human form, wandering among them. Calling a few select individuals friends, even. Young Robert's companionship was a particular blessing, and I owe him more than he can ever know."

He sets the glasses back on his nose.

"Lord Morpheus is dead." Says Gilbert. Says it like fact, like something too absolute for the sort of dream-creature born of hypotheticals he is, like an unshakeable truth he has resigned himself to. His voice only barely breaks over the words. "And I shall grieve him for all the rest of my days… but I must live to mourn him. Life goes on, young friend, and we must all move along with it. And, well. I cannot speak for Robert's motivations, but the true reason why I have agreed to this mad scheme…"

Gilbert takes Murphy's freezing hands in his own. His fingertips are not lined quite right, they would not leave prints that look even remotely like those of a human - but aside from that, his grip is warm, avuncular, firm, reassuring.

"I fear that his siblings will not be able to live on without him." Gilbert confesses, quietly. "They are not made to accept change and move on from a loss as monumental as what humanity has wrought upon them. To have you… not him, not entirely, but perhaps enough… it is my most solemn hope that it might give them some form of closure at long last."

"So that's what it is?" Murphy laughs, bitterly. "Charitable concern for the well-being of personifications of abstract concepts!?"

"No." Gilbert corrects mildly. "Love. For my creator's family."

Murphy scoffs. His chest aches with it.

"What you, hmm. What you must understand, about Lord Morpheus…" Gilbert seems to be choosing his words very carefully. "...is that, for all that he was often harsh and commanding, he was so very loving, always. My Lord loved with all his self, even if he would attempt to turn a cold shoulder to the world - and I think you are much like him in temperament, young Murphy.”

Murphy does not acknowledge that. He doesn't think he can.

“He loved his family, and he loved the Dreaming, and all the beings in it. I was his heart, or near as, you must recall, I knew the truth at the core of him.

Memories or not, love as he did, and you will be a credit to his name, and a comfort to all who knew him."

(Murphy does not have it in himself to love like Dream of the Endless did. He already struggles to love at all.

But perhaps, for the sake of the entity whose memory he will dishonour, he can try.)

“So. Will you come back and resume your lessons?” Gil asks, very gently. “You may leave, now or any other time, of course you may. But it would be to your benefit, as well as to that of many others, if you did not.”

“I’ll stay,” Murphy forces out. He could blame the way his hands shake on the cold. “For now.”

“Thank you, dear child. Thank you.” This time, when Gilbert smiles, it very nearly feels like it is directed at him, after all. “Now, let’s get you out of this cold, hm? And Matthew as well.”

Murphy lets Gilbert herd him back to their inn, sits through Hob Gadling’s apology and wonders if it was sincere - he can never tell, with this infuriating man - and continues to learn as much as possible about the life of Dream of the Endless.

But he’s slowly realising, if anything will convince the Endless siblings, then it certainly won’t be the trivia. He’ll have to learn to love like the Lord of Stories, for their deception to have a snowflake’s chance in hell.

(Oh, wonderful. As if this wasn’t difficult enough already…)