#this was definitely a rather personal post

[dellamortethelesser]

I wasn't going to respond to this because I posted this weeks ago and it wasn't even really about an argument over whether it was canon or not, seeing as my original assertion WAS engaging with the text as though Ashur was the Divine. Ultimately, I do not view a single devnote as a statement on who the canon Divine is. If you do, that's your prerogative, but everything that has appeared within the game as we have it does not point unwavering to Ashur being the Divine.

Ashur saying that he's running into obstacles with a Knight-Commander who has support in the Magisterium doesn't imply that he's the Divine. It says that the Knight-Commander has support in the Magisterium and that is what's making it difficult to handle him. Tarquin adding that Knight-Commander Lenos answers to the Chantry COULD mean that Ashur works with the Chantry--but so does Tarquin, who is a Templar. It could also just be Tarquin suggesting an avenue of influence to get him out of the way.

The Venatori choose to execute the Viper in a Blighted Minrathous because he's a vigilante, Robin Hood-esque figure whom the lower classes and the slaves are rallying around as a freedom fighter. People in Docktown talk about him in awe. The people peddling newspapers are always reporting on him and his deeds; the Viper is a known figure. To kill the face of the revolution so publicly would damage morale to the point that you have killed the entire movement.

The Venatori note says that the Vesperians groomed Ashur to be Divine. The devs clearly left it open, but I feel like I would not write a whole sentence about the guy being a scion of such and such GROOMED to be the divine if the guy was actually the Divine. I'd just say he's the Divine. At best you can take this to mean that Ashur might be a candidate for Divine.

There are definitely hints in the game itself. It's left relatively open-ended but not fully confirmed. Frankly this doesn't matter if you view the devnotes as canon--at that point, our opinions on the matter are so disparate that there's not going to be a reconciliation as I do NOT view a devnote as a canon confirmation.

I think it's fun. I love it as a headcanon. I personally choose to believe that Ashur is the Divine because the implications for the Shadow Dragons and the building abolitionist movement in Minrathous are fun. Frankly this has left a rather sour taste in my mouth and I'd rather not see any more discussion on this post as it's taking away from my original point--which was ENGAGING WITH THE IDEA OF ASHUR AS THE DIVINE.

man. I forgot abt that Fenris banter. the one that sparks in act 3 if you approach the chantry. He literally says that the Imperial Chantry receives a tithe for every slave sold. Man if I was Ashur idk how I’d look at that—tangible proof about how the Chantry, the arm of the Maker—profits from slavery and find a way to fix it from the inside. Fuck man I’d take up vigilantism too

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Toussaint L’Ouverture

[no propaganda submitted]

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas

a. “mustache” b. “Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!” c. “He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour […]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

[atheneum-of-you]

I feel like admitting to growth is such an essential part of religion and spirituality as a whole, and I think it's important to admit when you're wrong.

Recently I've been taking a lot of time to really dig into myself religiously, especially as a priestess. I've become hyper aware of the things I say and the impact they have on people, especially beginners.

Firstly, I still think the people that believe that Ovid's writing of Poseidon (Neptune), Medusa, and Athena (Minerva) desperately need to think critically and read the actual myths and realize that they are not the same. However, I was severely misguided in slandering Ovid, who himself was a phenomenal writer. I was definitely drawn into my own personal annoyance with the people that skewed his writing and flung them at his work. That's something I regret.

Additionally, I feel,like I've in some ways made light of my priestesshood and inadvertently caused somewhat of a trend of young worshippers developing an interest in the title and having a misguided sense of what it entails and how it's conducted. I was a much smaller creator then, and never really thought about the ripple affect my words could have on the community around me. I had a whole second post of priestesshood raring to go and I've decided to hold off on it.

While I am a fully graduated priestess with Hermes, I've decided to take the next year to properly study under a renowned priestess and earn the title respectively. This isn't meant denouncing my priestesshood or backtracking, but rather, I want to be properly recognized as one not just by my small community but by those with the title that came before me. I want to ensure that it's known how seriously I take this path in life and how genuine I am when it comes to it.

I'm really happy with this decision, and I can't wait to continue documenting my journey not only as a priestess but a worshipper in hellenic polytheism as a whole ♡

[melonlord98]

Love That Waits: Chapter 1 - Rhea

Summary:

"He had the type of smile that seemed to increase the light in a room when it reached his eyes. Brown eyes. Deep brown eyes that seemed to become molten when he spoke fondly of something. Though she rarely saw him speak much at all since she met him. She was surprised at her own attentiveness in that moment. When the fuck had she started to notice Jey Uso?"

~

A character study of the romantic relationship between Rhea Ripley and Jey Uso, through their eyes and the eyes of the people who love them. Starting from Smackdown 2023 to the present day. Somewhat kayfabe compliant, but also putting my own little spin on the most interesting love story in the WWE Universe!

~

These chapters are all written in third person, so if that bothers you, I'm sorry 😢. The first two chapters will be exploring Rhea and Jey's emotional states as individuals, but from the third chapter onward, each chapter will be split between both of them equally. With bonus chapters from the perspectives of Damian Priest, Jimmy Uso, Sami Zayn, and many others as they watch the relationship between Jey and Rhea blossom.

I will warn everyone in advance. This story is the textbook definition of slow burn and it will also not be including explicit smut. If anything sexual happens between the characters, it'll be more of a "fade to black" type vibe.

I wanted to write this fic to explore how Rhea and Jey truly fell in love with each other as they navigate through their own individual traumas. And since this story begins around 2023, I will admit that Rhea and Jey are not in the best place emotionally early on. So, be warned, "Fluff" is tagged, but it's not coming for a while 🤣.

My hope is to have a new chapter uploaded every week on Wednesday. This is my first fic and I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Btw, all the chapters will be posted on AO3 as well if you prefer to view it there 😊!

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April 18, 2023

The shrill chirp of her alarm was what woke her. She leaned back, her arm sliding away from the slim contour of Dom’s waist as she fumbled to grasp the device. Cursing as it nearly fell off the nightstand. Rhea grunted as she pulled her other arm free from under her lover’s head, narrowly managing to catch her phone as it forcefully separated from the charging chord. She flinched back at the brightness of the screen and stamped the alarm off before tossing it onto the armchair just beside the nightstand. Sitting up dully, her shoulders sagged at the weight of what she now acknowledged was a rapidly growing hangover. Her head ached and she hissed as a sharp thread of pain shot from between her eyebrows and spread to the base of her skull. 

“Fucking, Damian.” She groaned, falling heavily back onto the pillows, with her forearm falling over her eyes. Somehow a room shielded by blackout curtains was still too bright. They had gone out the night before with the Bloodline to celebrate the beginning of their alliance. She wasn’t usually the most overzealous drinker. She typically left those duties to Damian and Dominik, but something about that night had just felt right and so she had indulged them. Fuck was that a mistake.

A throb, just barely there, began to pulse at the right corner of her forehead and she cursed again. She’d swear off drinking if it weren’t so damn numbing. The thought was interrupted, however, by the sharp snort from the man laying next to her. She laughed low in her throat, wincing as action went straight to her aching forehead. Dom was a rather enthusiastic sleeper with a likely undiagnosed case of sleep apnea. Any other person would have been rudely awakened throughout the night by the sheer volume of his snores, but Rhea, who lived in a constant state of bottomless fatigue, often slept with a deepness just on the cusp of death. A match made in heaven (or hell, perhaps some would say).

Turning onto her side, she reached out to stroke delicately at the hair cascading over his ear. She was amused at the state of him. His body was turned away from her, but his neck was tipped back rather awkwardly and his mouth seemed to follow, hanging out to the side as he continued to snore. Her eyes scanned him lazily, stopping occasionally to scrutinize the dark spots on his purple silk pajama top from the steady steam of saliva that dribbled off his lip. A man who sleeps as immaturely as he lives awake. Rhea shook her head fondly at the thought. Her fingers continuing to stroke her fingers absentmindedly through his hair as she fell face first into the usual cogitations.

Her mind drifted to the previous year, the thought of her new beginning. How she and Damian had betrayed Edge and welcomed Finn. There was always something about it that never sat right with her. They had done everything right. She believed that. Edge had never deserved their patronage and so they outgrew him. Yet, it still haunted her. Even as she, surrounded by her two closest friends, had looked down at her old mentor and laughed in his face, that look in his eyes had remained imprinted in her mind. Betrayal. One in what had become a disturbing pattern. Her mind flitted to Raquel, her first loss. Her partner that had chosen everyone else over her. And Liv, a dead weight she had needed to shed the way a snake sheds its old skin; reborn in new, more vibrant color. Friendships she had sacrificed to become better. She was in the right. Edge had reassured her in the beginning. Damian too. She had needed to be selfish. She deserved to be! She was right—

Dom suddenly shifted in his sleep and Rhea jerked her hand back in alarm. His body rolled back toward her, realigning with his head and he smacked his lips before settling back into his usual snores. Not yet awake. Rhea stared at him and she could feel that familiar coldness in her chest. She cowered away from it. Throwing her legs off the side of the bed and nearly falling over herself as she made her way into the bathroom.

The pulsing forehead spread back into her hairline and she sucked air sharply through her nose as she felt bile rising in her throat. She fought against it, knocking her knuckles against the carved marble of the bathroom sink. The bathroom went pitch black as the door slid shut behind her. She couldn’t see anything and yet she felt stripped naked. Her skin hot, yet damp from sweat. As if she had been laying on hot coals. It was always like this when she thought of them. The memory of her many lost friendships like a disease that clung to the darkest parts of her. Parts she had layered over with molten rock and steel. She had made herself a blade, to protect against the reminders of her own past heartbreaks. However, it was moments like these where she felt like a snake eating its own tail.

Edge had told her that to be warm and embrace comfort was weakness. You could never get too comfortable. He did. So she and Damian had showed him the fruits of his labor as they usurped him. Rocking back onto her heels, she flailed for the switch and nearly fell when the white light of the mirror hit her square in the face. Her eyes burned with it, but the pain of the headache had dulled. An old pain replaced with a new one. A cycle she knew well. She could sleep, but she never rested. 

She was able to blink as her eyes slowly adjusted and she finally caught sight of herself in the mirror. As she looked on, she realized that the dampness she had felt on her cheeks had not been sweat but were tears. The wet onslaught had flowed past her chin, soaking the collar of her t-shirt with a pale layer of foundation she had forgotten to remove the night before in her drunken state. Rhea sighed before turning her eyes down and flipped on the sink. She watched curiously as the water pooled in the cup of her hands before shoving it across her face. Repeating the process a couple more times before placing her hands on the counter and leaning fully over the sink. The harsh gush of the faucet a welcome buffer to the never-ending whirring that went on in her head. 

For a while, she just stood and breathed. The yelling chorus of voices in her head eventually came down to a more gentle stage whisper. This allowed her to move her attention to something much more important than her many past lives. She needed coffee! With two harsh pats to her cheeks, Rhea straightened her back and shed her clothes.

The chill of the hotel hallway could be felt even through the thick cotton of her hoodie as she made her way down to the lobby. This hotel was not as nice as the other ones they stayed at in the much larger cities. This hotel chain’s buildings were always old, but now haphazardly disguised with a new coat of a rather jarring orange and baby blue paint combo whose ugliness Damian often bitched about during his hangover-fueled breakfast rants. He was a surprisingly chipper alcoholic on the morning after a long night of indulgence. Grumpy, but eloquent. Rhea would typically call him in the mornings and they would eat breakfast as a duo, since Finn and Dominik was particularly unpleasant if not allowed to rise of their own accord. This morning, however, she didn’t feel that she had the patience to deal with what Rhea knew would be a good-natured parental lecture about how she “actively suppressed her negative feelings”. Followed closely by an accusation of taking it out on her boyfriend who was no where near as strong as she was. Damian could do it later, once Rhea had been filled with a minimum of three cups of heavily sweetened coffee. 

She stopped in her tracks just as she turned the corner into the lobby at the sight of a familiar face (or back rather). Jey Uso’s silhouette was hard to miss and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t snuck a handful of curious peaks backstage. He had his back to her, his arms hung bare through the cropped sleeves of his shirt and she could see the slight curve at the bottom of his spine that peaked out from the slit in the equally cropped bottom of his t-shirt. Her eyes moved back to the tattooed contours of his arms, the intricate line work shifting and bending with every minute flex. Art in motion. Rhea was always one to appreciate the artistry of a good tattoo. She and Jey had chatted enthusiastically at the club the night before about their many tattoos, though much of the conversation now only existed in jumbled scraps throughout her memory. His face had been so bright then. He had the type of smile that seemed to increase the light in a room when it reached his eyes. Brown eyes. Deep brown eyes that seemed to become molten when he spoke fondly of something. Though she rarely saw him speak much at all since she met him. She was surprised at her own attentiveness in that moment. When the fuck had she started to notice Jey Uso?

Rhea thought back to all the months before. All the confrontations, but nothing really stood out until yesterday. She’d known of him, but she didn’t know him. Even now, in the infancy of this new alliance. Last night was the first time she’d actually spoken to him outside of provoking him to Super Kick her in the ring. She looked at him wholly now. The coffee long forgotten as she pondered him. Apparently, this was a morning of way too much thought. But she’d worry about that later. Something about him drew her in. Made her want to know more as she continued to watch him prepare his breakfast. Now, leaning lazily against the counter as he waited for a paper cup to fill with orange juice. Rhea pondered Jey Uso’s appearance. His hair, his skin, his tattoos, his build. Once again, she had to admit that he was nice to look at. 

However, that was never what truly interested her about him. There was a heat to him. Something buried so deep, yet burned so bright that you could narrowly manage to avoid getting scorched by it. A longing for something that she didn’t think she’d ever be able to figure out without asking him herself; something she’d never even dream of doing. 

Rhea was brought out of her contemplation by the stiff jerk of Jey’s hand as he thrust it into his pocket. She looked on as he glanced around warily before pulling a small pill orange bottle out of his pocket. He hastily popped the white cap and levied the a couple tabs into his palm before tossing his head back and quickly downing the contents of his cup to chase it. Prescriptions from the looks of it. Considering who he fell under, she wouldn’t be too surprised if it was anxiety medication.

Jey bowed his head as he swallowed, the muscles of his back tensing under the thin black layer of his t-shirt. But it was his hand that truly caught her eye. The one not gripping the pill bottle lay open. She could see the patchwork of callouses that decorated the weathered skin there. But to her surprise, his hand was shaking rather violently. From the tips of his fingers to the curve of his shoulder. His whole body taught and coiled like a snake, poised to strike at the first sign of a threat. As her eyes made their way about him, she came to the unnerving realization that his feet were no longer facing away from her and when her head snapped up she was met eye to eye with him. The swiftness with which Jey moved had been what startled her initially, but her focus quickly pivoted to his eyes. No, what hid behind them. Or rather what didn’t. There was nothing there. A calculated emptiness. They both remained anchored in place. She wasn’t afraid to move nor was she afraid of him, but something was keeping her there. Something was keeping him there. Looked in at the eyes, but neither spoke. What was there to say anyway? Any individual with a single modicum of intelligence would tell you that it would be ill-advised to speak to someone who looked you the way that Jey was now. Like an animal. If he had gun it would be drawn. The empty heat she had been pondering before was now looking right at her and she couldn’t look away­–

“Hey, Rhea!” Rhea was embarrassed to think about the rather indignant noise she made at the sound of Damian’s voice that called from down the hallway. She whipped around. Her face set into a glower that deepened as she noticed the crooked-toothed smile Damian flashed back at her.

“Yo, take it easy. Did I scare you?” he teased, nudging her suggestively with his elbow as he came to stand next to her. She turned her head dramatically, her face pinched into a pout as she shoved him back. 

“Fuck off, Priest.” Her voice dripping with an exasperated fondness that she only ever offered to him. He shrugged before pulling his loosely tied robe closer around him and crossing his arms over his chest. His face the picture of amused curiosity as he said, “I called out a couple times and you didn’t answer. So, I got creative.”

Rhea blew air at her bangs, snorting a laugh as she said, “By creative, you mean loud, right?” He shrugged again, then he glanced behind her. Seemingly looking for something that he couldn’t find. She followed his gaze over her shoulder and almost audibly sighed in relief when she noticed Jey was no longer standing there glaring at her.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” she questioned with feigned innocence. Damian did seem to clock it in his hungover state, but he just shook his head. “Nothing. You just seemed lost in something.” he said matter-of-factly.

“Nah, just staring off into space waiting for our usual appointed breakfast date.” Damian scoffed, but made no objection to her explanation, moving past her toward the breakfast spread where Jey had once stood. She could still almost envision the perfect silhouette of Jey as he had been just moments before. A ghostly visage with some kind of death reflected in his eyes. An emptiness she now realized felt so familiar, because it was one she shared within herself. A loss of something. Of someone. A loss of innocence that only your greatest love can cause. A loss she’d felt twice but had been remedied by the new family she had now. Maybe Jey could use a new family too. She laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought and Damian fixed her with a concerned look but made no moves to address it. She resumed her pondering. Jey was too loyal to be fooled out of leaving his family. An absurd thought on her part. Impossible at worst. Yet another thing she’d add to the long list she chose to worry about at a later time.

Or she was full of shit, because even as she made her plate and get several cups of coffee in her system (maybe there was a way to just inject it into her veins first thing in the morning instead. She’d have to do research on it.), her mind wandered back to Jey Uso. More alarmingly, Roman Reigns. A man she had yet to lay eyes on in-person yet loomed large over the union of the two factions. The deal had been made by him. Paul Heyman had just been the typical obedient messenger. When she considered it, Roman was largely responsible for the man that Rhea had narrowly avoided a confrontation with just minutes before. He had beaten Jey down so completely that he was left with only his instincts to guide him. A weapon Roman had sharpened to act as an extension of himself. Jey was no longer an individual, but a cog in the great machine that Roman Reigns had built his now vast empire out of.

Roman was a familiar shadow to her. Like her own mentor, who haunted her even now. Roman Reigns did not seem like the type who took kindly to betrayal. Those who grew brave enough to stand before him was put down expeditiously. It’s why the Judgment Day had agreed to the alliance. Why try and fight a god, just to lose everything, when he’s willing to make you kings? Their faction was still young and while they didn’t have much to lose, fear was enough. Perhaps Edge would be ashamed of them now. The man who thought he was bulletproof. The one who taught them to fear nothing, but he showed his weakness then. He made them too strong, too strong to need him and they took full advantage. They had felled the king who believed himself to be the same god that Roman was. 

Still, maybe Roman’s time would be coming soon too. The tension radiated off all the members of the Bloodline in waves. Sami Zayn had opened a door inside a house that every believed to be forged shut with steel. A door no one had thought to check for. And answer to a question that she was sure none of the Bloodline had ever dared to ask. 

But that was none of her business. What choices the Bloodline members chose to make didn’t matter to her. So long as they stayed out of her way.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

I just found this account and saw the post about how the brothers would react to being called daddy, and I started wondering. How would they react to being called puppy/kitten?

Feast my child

The brothers reaction to being called kitten/puppy

Lucifer

He honestly wasn't too bothered by it. He in fact took it as some challenge. "Oh? Puppy hm? Do you want me to be your dog?~" his own teasing followed. He liked it tbh.

Mammon

This man whimpers. WHIMPERS. He then immediately drops to his knees for you. "I am. I promise I am. I'm yer good boy right?" He asks in a desperate tone and wide pretty eyes. He DEFINITELY enjoys it.

Levi

He probably almost nutted in his pants. This loser immediately looks away and covers his face. "I-I w-what?" He says as if he didn't hear you VERY clearly. Sporting a hard on and not hiding because he'd rather hide his face. Call him it again.

Satan

He blushes hard. You just called him something he usually calls you. He stutters a bit "w-what was that?" After you repeat yourself he immediately covers your mouth "not again" he says. He also enjoyed it but it seemed to much for him. Poor baby.

Asmos

"Kitten hm? How cute~ can I call you that too?" He purrs out. He enjoys it just as much as the next person. He would be happy even when you call him whore tbh as long as you put 'your' in front of it

Beel

He smiles all happy like it's a cute pet name with no sexual innuendos. You don't have the heart to tell him it does. He actually asks you to call him it more since he's not very vocal he LOVES when you give him cute nicknames.

Belphie

"don't start this" he huffs with a red face. He enjoyed it more than daddy. He was still flustered. "Can't you call me something normal that doesn't make me blush or be disgusted?" He asks with a slight whine and pout. He kinda likes it.

[respectthepetty]

wrt joong being emotional on social media (ie public), my personal take isn’t that someone shouldn’t have emotions, but rather that a public figure should be aware that anything the share or tweet in a moment of pique will last forever—not just in an archival sense but in the fandom’s collective memory as well. i come from a background where i am legally held responsible for anything i put on social media that could be ‘damaging’ to my company even if it’s on a personal account. not saying that’s fair or right, but that’s the reality for myself and many others. beefing with someone also signed to your company and intimating and dissatisfaction with your coworkers is something that would personally get me brought before a manager at minimum. again, this is just how it would work for me, but i’m guessing some other people in this fan space may be in similar circumstances and this also see these tweets and insta posts as unprofessional. there’s another possible discussion to be had here about the way society deems anything undesirable in a sort of mental illness-unprofessional venn diagram, but this ask is already long enough.

Anon (if this is the same anon), your response wasn't too long! It was perfect! And so was @waitmyturtles' response because it's getting at what I'm trying to highlight - his behavior could be deemed unprofessional, but not mentally unwell. I understand that the tweets and retweets are crude, but my resistance is aligning that with his mental health.

Just like you, I have a job that monitors my social media activities (if they can be found *wink, nod, Tumblr*), and if I wrote about my department mates the way Joong and Dunk are interacting, my department chair would have me in the vice president's office after the second tweet. I get it. But even if I did shit-talk my department mate on Twitter because she threw a party with my professional enemy (business instructors), I would be displeased if my chair connected that with me being mentally unstable.

There is definitely a "discussion to be had here about the way society deems anything undesirable in a sort of mental illness-unprofessional venn diagram" and after reading yours and turtle's responses, I feel we are all in the same boat, but coming at it in different ways. However, I want to emphasize that regardless of Joong's actual mental health, I do not attribute his social media behavior as a reason to claim he is unwell. Unprofessional? I see it. Unwell? That falls into that Venn diagram of unrealistic societal norms you mentioned, and I think both of us can agree that is unfair for us to place that label on him.

I appreciate your initial ask to me because it let me know that Twitter was popping off during all of this, and gave me more details to add to my "We Got Beef: Joong & Est Edition" pile, but I'm even more thankful you replied to the follow-up question.

[cicobuffs]

preachers son! art who's very touchy...

i feel like when he was growing up, art didn't get a whole lot of physical affection from much of anyone, aside from his mom and the older women that would frequent his dad's sermons and mass. even then, those encounters were mainly just fleeting hugs before being sent off to school by his mother or an uncomfortable pinch on the cheek when the older ladies were on their way to exit the church. him and his family would always stand by the door: his father shaking the hand of each person leaving and saying things like "god bless you" or "you have a good one now,". and the whole premise of his dad even giving art the time of day for any of that "affection nonsense" is entirely out of the question. so at the end of the day by the time he had met you, art was teetering on the edge of being touch-starved.

i touched on this a bit with the whole hand kissing post but i cannot express enough how he just always has a hand on you. once you guys are together, there's a hand on your waist or the small of your back when you're walking side by side, if you're sitting next to one another he's the type to bring your legs over on top of his and run his hand from your knee to your calf. even before you guys got together, he would pull you into a hug whenever the two of you would see each other and it'd always be one of those hugs that lingered a bit longer: where he'd want it to last rather than being so brief.

art is the type of person to absolutely melt whenever you reciprocate in affection. he likes when you grab for one of his hands and trace the lines in his palms, brushing over small calluses from tennis or when you run a finger down his nose bridge when you guys are lying together in bed with your chin placed on top of his chest. whenever you kiss and you go from having your hands rest on his neck to then settling on just bringing yourself closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. you can swear you can feel him smile against your lips and his grip on your waist tighten a bit.

really he's obsessed with you and anything you do and can't help from reaching out for you. i think he really relishes in the feeling that you're actually there rather than being one of those aforementioned quick embrace or touch. definitely healing some parts of him that he kind of really buried deep down.

[rey-jake-therapist]

As much as I liked Adar as a character and wished he had lingered in a little bit longer (he could have had a great redemption arc if you ask me), the thing that frustrates me the most about his death is that now, we'll never get to see his backstory, especially his past relationship with Sauron. He's dead, so why would they bother write it?

So we'll probably never know what they were for each other, what were Sauron's real feelings for him if he had any, if he ever was sincere with Adar or not... I headcanon it as romantic, personally. I think Sauron seduced Adar like he seduced Galadriel, that Adar fell in love with him, and that Sauron at least had a certain affection for him and trusted him. I think that's why he cried when Adar told 'Halbrand' how they met.

I think this is also why Sauron, who's always playing 4D chess in his mind and is always ahead of his time because he can predict his adversaries' moves long before they even start making their plans, didn't see *this* coming. He was completely oblivious to the doubts that Adar had about him, or at least he was certain that Adar would never betray him.

The way they looked at each other... The way Sauron touched his wound staring at Adar... His eyes said, "wtf.... Is this for real? YOU did this??" 💔 And Adar's conflicted gaze.... Urgh, I need MORE!

Of course there's also his arrogance that explains Sauron's blindness to the obvious, and this arrogance will cause many of his future failures: him not realizing that Galadriel would rather die than be with him is an example of that.

I must say it makes me feel very sad that we'll probably never get more stories about Adar and Sauron, because apart from his complex relationship with Galadriel, his connection with Adar was the one thing I find the most intriguing. Like uh, sorry but I can't say I care about whatever he had with Melkor for example. I have an idea of what it was, and it's definitely not the loving fluffy stuff that most shippers seem to imagine, but honestly idgaf about this dynamics... Maybe I'd care if Melkor appeared at some point in a flashback, but I don't think so tbh, except if what it revealed surprised me.

Regarding Adar and Sauron's shared past, it feels like the writers threw us a bone when they showed the flashback and that's it. We also got Adar say that Sauron promised him 'children', okay Sir, 'care to elaborate? 😭 I would have liked to know the context of this promise at least...

Anyway, I don't even know why I post this. Sometimes I post stuff just because I need to say it... But if you feel like me, please don't shy and join me in my grief! 🙏🏼

[serpentface]

Faiza performing the Kagnoma Odo (pretty literally 'lion dance'), a weapons dance and one of the more important ritual duties of Odonii priestesses. A relatively new addition to this traditional dance involves the musket as the primary weapon, which is fired mid-twirl into the ground at the climax of the dance. Faiza is experiencing an 'oh fuck' moment because her shot is more than ideally diagonal, but she’s being so cool with it.

This is a wholly ceremonial performance at the onset of the pilgrimage, performed in full regalia and lion skin (of the small, semi-domesticated strain) but no armor. It’s also distinctly a display of political allegiance between the powerful and beloved Odonii priesthood (and its loyal military) with the increasingly reviled and destabilized imperial family, with Faiza prominently wearing a bracelet of the royal serpent, which was gifted (along with the musket) by the usoma Stavis Amanti himself (Usoma is the Wardi word for king, which has been retained in the context of emperors).

The Kagnoma Odo is the ultimate demonstration of the Odonii as an embodiment of the Lion Face of God and living vessel of military might and sovereignty, demonstrating her fitness and proficiency with weapons and as a spiritual unifier for soldiers. It is accompanied by drumming and occurs in stages, running through the three keymost weapons used in war- the spear, the sword, and the musket. The musket is of the most significance, given the weapon has developed a particular esteem as the ultimate embodiment of might and superiority. Assistants (almost always other priestesses, occasionally high ranking soldiers) load and prime the musket to be fired at the climax of the dance, where it is shot into the ground as the priestess leaps out of range of the shot. The firing signals the end of the dance and the rite itself.

While not the utmost exemplar of trigger discipline, only fully inducted and senior (and therefore very thoroughly trained) Odonii are permitted to perform the dance, and injuries during actual performances are quite rare (though are known to occur during training, more than a few Odonii have burns and wounds on their feet).

The most important renditions of this dance are performed upon declarations of war and before battles (in this case, generally done in full armor along with the lion pelt). It is also done during some trainings (while a dance, it is carefully choreographed to include naturalistic maneuvers of the weapons involved and helps soldiers limber up and learn to move their weapons). It is regarded as an impressive and motivating sight and a morale booster, and, seen at a distance, potentially intimidating to enemies.

A special variant of this dance is performed as means of fully incarnating the Odomache, which is done in full nudity with the body covered in the blood of the freshly sacrificed lion and cloaked in its raw pelt (the lion has become the corpse of Odomache in the moment of death, as part of its recreation of God's sacrifice). Her public, full nude appearance once (and only once) in this act is what allows the Lion Face of God to incarnate within her. Those in attendance see the spiritually vulnerable, naked human body obscured with the sanctified and deified blood and cloaked in the sanctified and deified skin. It is a merger of the contradictions of mortality and divinity, the boundaries between the two indistinct in flickering firelight and the flash of musketfire. She is witnessed by her people, dangling in between humanity and divinity and leading them in dance, and and is thus transformed.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

stan: how can you be polyamorous and aroace, or…whatever mabel called it?

ford: in my case, i have my family and i have my platonic polycule. i would prefer to never have to interact with anyone outside these two groups

stan: what about soos and wendy? they’re not in either of those groups

ford: first of all, i am soos’ uncle, second of all, are you saying you don’t believe i would both die and kill for wendy?

stan: you’ve got a weird way of defining family, six

ford: it’s my favorite way

[rainingincale]

[focsle]

Do I still have to see people blanket defining bisexuality in a reductive and incorrect way in 2023? Do I?

[aliusfrater]

[eveningrainstorm]

Listen. Swansea is great; he's a well-written character and I like him a lot. But it's weird to me how much fan content I see about him that seems to make him out to be a lot nicer than he's actually shown to be in the game, and nowhere is this more obvious than in how people depict his relationship with Anya.

I've seen other people address the whole "If Anya had told Swansea what happened he'd have killed Jimmy" thing (she did. he didn't.) but there's a larger issue where people act like Swansea cared a lot more about Anya and was a lot closer with her than is actually the case in canon. And sure, the game leaves a lot of room for differing interpretations of things and imaginings of what could have happened offscreen, but I've seen so many people act like this idea of Swansea and Anya being close is something actually depicted in canon which. It very much is not.

Like okay. Let's talk about this. What does the game itself actually show us about Anya and Swansea's relationship?

Well, we don't see much of their dynamic before the crash aside from them just being coworkers with some level of familiarity with each other. They do stand together at the birthday party, and Anya playfully tells Curly that “Swansea really likes that cake. Don’t tell anyone,” to which Swansea only "hmph"s in response. From this we can gather that the two of them are friendly enough that Anya feels comfortable teasing him. Even so, she certainly isn't an exception to his characteristic harshness and brutal honesty — take an interaction later in the same scene, where a distressed Anya says she has no savings and asks if Pony Express can really fire them like this and Swansea, not cruelly but certainly bluntly, tells her that Pony Express going under has been a long time coming.

Of more importance, perhaps, is the game's first "2 months after the crash" segment, where we are first introduced to both of them — and where the game makes it quite apparent just how little Swansea respects Anya. The very first scene, in fact, features Swansea interrupting Anya and mocking her when she tries to explain why opening the cargo hold is a good idea. Later, when talking to Jimmy, Swansea calls Anya "our so-called nurse" and says that "it's in one ear and out the other" when talking about how she nearly got injured on the broken vent. And if you get the code scanner before talking to her Swansea will tell you to get her before opening the cargo hold but specifically with the justification that "even she couldn't make the situation worse with her presence." None of this is really uncharacteristic of Swansea, given he talks about Daisuke in much the same way, but it's not something that can just be swept under the rug — and yet, seemingly, everyone does. I hardly ever see anyone even mention Swansea insulting her here.

Of course, none of these scenes are where the idea that Swansea and Anya are particularly close comes from. No, that idea comes from a single scene: "3 months after", when Jimmy finds the two of them talking in the cockpit at night. We only see the end of this conversation, where Anya, apparently crying, is saying “No. I understand completely. If that’s how it has to be—”

The game never reveals exactly what the two of them were talking about; the two main theories I've seen are that Swansea was telling her that he was saving the cryopod for Daisuke or that she had told Swansea that Jimmy assaulted her and Swansea was saying she'd just have to put up with being around him for the time being. Personally, I think the latter is much more likely, but either way, the end result is the same: regardless of how much Swansea cares about Anya, her well-being is not his first priority.

We never see any follow-up on this conversation; if Anya and Swansea meet up behind Jimmy's back at any other point, we don't see it or hear it referenced. "4 months after" offers no interaction between the two of them at all, with Swansea busy dancing drunkenly while Anya, on the other side of the lounge, tells Jimmy about the extra medicine cabinet. "5 months after", Anya commits suicide in Medical while Swansea sits drunk and oblivious in front of Utility. The only reference to Anya and Swansea's conversation — and the closest we get to a confirmation of what it was about — comes after Daisuke's death, when Jimmy uses "telling Anya who knows what" as a sign of shady behavior from Swansea, and Swansea agrees that he did talk to Anya, "but it was her telling me all sorts of things instead, wasn't it?", the implication being that she told Swansea about Jimmy raping her.

This line is interesting. Swansea is referencing what Jimmy did to Anya here, and implicitly condemning him for it, and yet... well, Anya's already dead. Swansea isn't doing anything for her, really; he doesn't seem particularly emotional or angry about it, either. All it really is, when it comes down to it, is a spiteful jab at Jimmy — just Swansea, still angry over Daisuke's death, trying to get under Jimmy's skin.

We never see Swansea react to Anya's death. This isn't surprising; we aren't shown what happened when Daisuke got the door to Medical open, and afterwards Swansea is understandably preoccupied with Daisuke's fatal injuries. The first thing Swansea says about Anya after her death is the line about her telling him things. And, well... here's the problem.

That line? Is also the last thing Swansea says about Anya.

He never mentions her again. That one line, the one that doesn't even mention her death, the one that seems more about getting at Jimmy than mourning her — that's the last we hear of her from Swansea. And maybe he does care, maybe her death is just as much a catalyst for him trying to kill Jimmy as Daisuke's is. But he never says anything about her. He doesn't mention her in his death scene. Sure, that last portion of the game is largely filtered through Jimmy's mind, his disregard for Anya keeping her out of focus, but Swansea's death — a moment of sharp, simple clarity in which Swansea says all the things Jimmy doesn't want to hear — doesn't have that excuse. Swansea doesn't say a thing about her, because in the end, he's not focused on her either.

So that's what we have. They don't seem to be that close, before or after the crash, though they theoretically could be. Anya telling him specifically about what Jimmy did could be considered a notable show of trust, but then again she could have just wanted to tell someone and considered him her best option, and in any case if she was hoping for him to do anything about it, he didn't. And despite a large portion of the fandom believing it to be the case, there isn't actually anything indicating that he told Anya about the cryo pod — if anything, his assertion that it was Anya who told him things rather than the other way around is evidence against it. Technically, anything's possible — Swansea could have comforted Anya when she told him about Jimmy, he could have offered her the cryo pod, he could have grieved her just as much as Daisuke — but looking at what the game itself presents, the picture it paints is far different from the one typically seen in the fandom.

We don't know what's going on in Swansea's head. We don't know what happens in the time between the moments the game shows us. But what the game does show us is this: Swansea repeatedly is disrespectful and rude to or about Anya; Swansea doesn't do anything after she tells him what Jimmy did to her; Swansea doesn't have any real reaction to Anya's death. Does he care about her? Probably. I'd like to believe so. But she's not the one he decides to kill Jimmy over, she's not the one he has regrets for in his dying moments, she's not the one he's saving the cryo pod for.

Maybe Swansea cares about Anya, but she's not his first priority. And isn't that sort of the point? This is what the game has been showing us the whole time: Anya is no one's first priority, except her own.

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques” as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.