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ruegarding · 7 months

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i never understood ppl claiming percy has never suffered the consequences of his loyalty. you're talking about percy "i know the prophecy said my friend would betray me but these are my friends they wouldn't betray me" jackson, who walked into a remote part of the forest with luke and almost died in book one. you're talking about percy "kronos told me point-blank there was a traitor but i can't imagine any of these ppl betraying me" jackson, who decided to stop looking for the traitor and moved on. you're talking about percy "nico is acting suspicious and very clearly hiding something from me but he's my friend and i trust him" jackson, who walked into nico's very obvious set up and almost got himself held hostage during the titan war. percy is so loyal that he cannot fathom betrayal until it's happening, and it has nearly killed him multiple times.

#i think ppl focus on what athena said #'you would destroy the world to save a friend'#but that's not fatal for percy! that's what makes percy dangerous *to the gods*#loyalty is a fatal flaw *for percy* bc he can be told point blank that his friend will betray him and still not be able to comprehend it!#i don't know that percy ever voiced his inability to consider betrayal to anyone (in the books i'm pretty sure it's internal dialogue)#so all anyone else sees is the danger he poses to *them* and *their plans*#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo books #fatal flaws #percy #min talks pjo

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 3 months

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There is a cyclic tragedy inherent to Mori's character wherein he's actually a deeply lonely man, but it's mostly because his resolve to do morally reprehensible things and think of people as pieces on the game board is something he prioritizes over his relations with those very same people, and this inevitably pushes them away (for very understandable reasons). And it kind of sucks honestly because the most frustrating thing about Mori is that he 100% has the potential to be a fantastic teacher and mentor, and more than that, I think he loves it! Just look at Beast! But for as long as he decides he needs to be the one to make "the hard calls" to "preserve peace", then Mori will inevitably continue in this cycle of alienating all the people he has a fondness for.

I do feel as though Mori's loneliness is something he views as a necessary sacrifice that he is making for the greater good (and if he is so willing to sacrifice, then Dazai's unwillingness to do the same comes out of left field because - "what do you mean? you're supposed to be just like me!").

Anyways.

Mori voice: "I'm so alone"

Also Mori: *continues to prioritize pure logic over the emotions of his people and himself*

The people: *get rightly angry and/or become extremely traumatized and leave him*

Mori voice: "I did what needed to be done"

Mori: "..."

Mori: "I'm so alone"

Sir. You are doing this to yourself.

#thing is he works well as a mafia boss because those people who take orders know in advance they are going to be commanded #to do whatever is necessary #mori has cultivated strong bonds of loyalty so people like hirotsu and tachihara have no issue with doing what is demanded of them #since that is just what you do in the mafia.#but for people mori is closer with. his actions frequently feel like betrayal to them. because that may be how you treat a soldier #but it's not how you treat a child a mentee or a friend.#the thing i want to know is why he thinks being ruthless in the service of yokohama's peace is his own personal responsibility #in the first place #bsd #bsd mori #bsd meta #<- sort of. i'm mostly just rambling #storyrambles

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chrhnchynoodles · 4 months

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Currently sick to my stomach thinking about how Percy was talking to Luke about why he didn’t choose him because he was worried if it came between him and Annabeth he’d betray him for Annabeth and he betrayed them both.

#luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy pjo #undying loyalty is Percy’s fatal flaw #trust issues #betrayal #grover underwood

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boxesblr · 5 months

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Rotating Etho's choice to protect his allies in my mind. Obviously they made incredible escapes and held their own but Etho also refusing to sell out Cleo and Grian meant that nearly everyone else died, some died multiple times, most lost additional hearts, hurt alliances (Scott: Gem has no band loyalty!), and did not gain something like 120 hearts total

Meanwhile, Cleo and Grian get to feel secure in their alliance, not go red, and actually finish their tasks. The playing field has obviously been levelled significantly and they still suffered, but Etho facilitated his alliance gaining the most where everyone else lost the most

Obviously it's a display his loyalty first and foremost but he also played the game, ran the numbers, and counted himself out of success knowing it would be diminishing returns to go after them and I just think that's neat

#i dont know how itll play socially with the rest of the server but it was cool #skizz hunting tango and saying he wants him back #tango saying hes not afraid to end him #gem attacking scott and him recognising it as a betrayal #bdubs peeling off to talk to martyn about being a big dog #its great content and its easy to get swept up in the task and i dont fault anyone for the choices they made #but etho took a step back and said actually who does this help? me? at the cost of my alliance?#grian who begged for friends and cleo who has made no secret about how much loyalty matters to her #eoughjjj #secret life spoilers #trafficblr #ethoslab #sorry for ethoposting #also just to reiterate hes not solely responsible for the collective failure or protecting his allies #he could have reasonably assumed that scott series winner smajor would have escaped and it would be a lost cause regardless #and cleo enderpearld all over the server and grian invis pot from his tower they did a lot

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icepick-jackalope · 1 year

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The fact that Joe Morelli is so minor that every poster identifies him by his weapon and yet his themes ARE the films themes, the fact that he's playing the stereotypical 'one last job' career killer but with actual depth because dammit he loves and is fundamentally unable to say no to goncharov, the fact that his theme has leitmotifs from katyas and andreys because he, on the basest level, mirrors their unwillingness to say no to the beastly man that made them all who they are (for better and for worse, in sickness and in health), the fact that he - as one of our two actually italian characters in this italian mob film - is killed on the steps of the cathedral he was married in (cmon you guys why are you sleeping on the intersection of faith and deceit), the fact that it was his father in laws fucking ice pick-

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wyvernquill · 2 months

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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…)

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #thank you for the ask and sorry it took so long!#maybe at some point i'll go back and also write hob successfully recruiting murphy #but i was a little stuck on that so i skipped the recruitment and wrote this instead #fiddler's green's role in this au is just very interesting to dig into #deception and manipulation is not in his nature and the closest he gets to selfishness is just wanting to live a human life #so why would he agree to help hob with this scheme?#i'm quite pleased with the way i spun it - he really does it out of love and thinks it's ultimately for a good cause #and subconsciously the assurance that gil is doing it out of loyalty rather than as betrayal is very (suspiciously) important to murphy #also very light 1889 meeting parallels with hob and murphy's fight at the start!

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sarioh · 2 years

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i think a fundamental difference between ethubs in last life and bdubs and impulse in double life isn’t really that etho didn’t know how to love bdubs, because he did, evidently. he killed for bdubs twice, stole for him, broke the rules for him, and he said it at the end, from the afterlife, when no one was around to hear. bdubs knew as well, as he proudly asserted to the other reds on the snow fort. it’s more that love was very much equated to violence in last life. you don’t prove it through words, you prove it by killing for each other, by showing that you’d die for each other--death itself was the currency for love. but that’s not really the case now, since your life is tied to your partner. you can’t die for them. so how can bdubs possibly prove his devotion to impulse, if he can’t show it the only way he knows how to? how can he ever be sure that impulse is devoted to him in the same way he was sure that etho was?

bdubs makes up for this deficit by stealing, by looting, taking the gold from someone’s chest to make the clock, hurting others to appease impulse. all the while impulse was in the mines, collecting the gold through his own hard work, the only sacrifice he made being his own time.

what impulse knows that bdubs doesn’t is that love doesn’t have to be sacrifice or bloodshed. it can be unconditional and it can be pure. it can be kindness, and sincerity, and simple gestures. it can be putting your bed next to someone, building a house with them, getting old with them. love doesn’t have to be death--it can be life, instead.

#double life smp #impulsesv #bdoubleo100 #ethubs #impdubs #???#SORRY. SORRY im just seeing some ppl talk about how bdubs was let down by etho and thats why he doesnt know how to devote himself to impuls #but i dont really think thats the case. i think that its just that the type of love expected of him has changed and he cant deal with it #i dont like the idea of minimizing the devotion and loyalty between bdubs and etho #maybe its cuz im so attached to ethubs but. I do think that etho and bdubs loved each other. i think they knew that they did #but they arent USED to a more Pure type of love. it has to be proven through violence and betrayal #rio posts #meta

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grain-my-beloved · 6 months

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Thinking about Grian being forced to fight his partner at the end of season one. Him being devastated, almost unable to do it, even though Scar betrayed him first. "I'm sorry". Him jumping off the cliff himself when it was done. "I don't feel good."

Grian being attacked repeatedly by his closest allies once they turned red in Last Life. Being cornered and nearly trap killed by Mumbo and Tim. Turning on them because they were turning on him first. The way he was so distraught to lose them. "My friend!"

Him killing Bigb inadvertently in Double Life. It wasn't on purpose per say. He wasn't thinking about it, he just wanted to get a kill, he needed to leave his mark on the season, because he was red, and that's what red names do. The way he didn't realize what he'd done until after the fact. "I am such a traitor."

And then finally Limited Life. Grian turning on Scar in the middle of a fight, literally stabbing him in the back in the heat of the finale, and not regretting it. "You gotta go."

#trafficblr #grian #something something the life series dissolves personal loyalties and standards #it isnt a grian thing #its an everyone thing #this game *forces* you against your friends #it pits you against the people you love most over and over #until fighting them doesn't hurt as much #until being betrayal doesn't hurt as much #for *either* party #because it's always like this #and it's noones fault #but there's always a winner and a loser #in any team #and at this point #everyone gets that #they *have* to get it.

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