#I just don't see it talked about that often

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[seiwas]

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

.

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

.

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[foxgirltail]

Yeah, the one difference I was thinking of is mormon jesus visiting the Americas. But that happens soon after his death/resurrection which would be around like 40 A.D.; and due to his (reattained?) godstatus he wouldn't have left any corpse parts behind on either side of the lake. So I still don't really see how this would make jojo jesus more mormon than any other christian denomination

UNLESS we're talking about another difference (that I only just remembered) between mormon jesus and jesus in other christian mythologies (maybe this isn't a common difference? I have much less experience with other Christian denominations) which is that Jesus fucked at least once (unrelated to this but so did virgin mary)* and could thus have had offspring and therefore been a joestar ancestor

*These are both technically in the "mormon canon" - although partially by extrapolation - but are not brought up very often because they're not really relevant to the greater narrative the mormon church pushes. There's a surprising number of things that this happens to, but that's a discussion for a different post

[princessbrunette]

I don't know if you had already answered this on your blog, but I was wondering would any of the girls be friends? Like I'm talking kitty, puppy, deer, lamb, and bunny. In my head I always pictured Kitty and Puppy being best friends and Bunny being more of an outsider because she's with Rafe.

this is interesting !! let me dissect all of ‘em <3

bunny:

you’re right — no one really wants to be friends with the poor girl because she’s rafe’s ride or die, and well — who trusts rafe? on first glance, they all would assume she’s just as wicked and evil as her boyfriend, but it would only take one interaction with her to know she’s not at all. i think with all the girls, their view on bunny shifts from being suspicious, to being pitying very quickly. whilst i don’t think they’d even get close enough to be friends, the general consensus of her would be “shes so sweet, idk what she sees in rafe.” or “we need to get her out of there!”

if she’s gonna make an unlikely companionship with anyone, it would be a universe where lamb!reader is dating one of the pogues. her and lamb come from similar kooky upbringings, and their complete opposite ways of presenting themselves would make for an interesting and hilarious dynamic. bunny teaches lamb about all the girl things she’d been deprived of, and lamb applies biblical meaning to bunny’s life lessons. she also thinks rafe is the devil but that’s a story for another day.

kitty:

whilst kitty and puppy would be a funny dynamic — and it works, as traditionally pup is with john b and kitty is with jj, my favourite friendship pairing might have to be kitty and deer. kitty feels less responsible for deer like she might with puppy, and as they both have super niche interests and ways of being, they’d have a lot to talk about.

my favourite thing about their dynamic would be the way they handle confronting situations. they’re both big people watchers, often silently floating around, wide eyed and unnervingly observant — however when the attention is drawn to them in a negative light, deer is quick to flee — upset and terrified of confrontation, whereas kitty will stay, tense up and run her mouth protectively of herself and her friend. she may be quiet but she can be lethal when provoked.

puppy:

puppy would get along with anyone, as she’s super friendly and sociable. in the most versatile way, she adapts to the needs of her friend — meaning if she’s hanging out with deer, she knows she’ll be doing a lot of the yapping whilst deer listens and observes before giving advice or an opinion. with kitty, it’s a yap off, the two of them always having alot to say. i can’t really see pup and mouse crossing paths, and i don’t think lamb would particularly take to her.

i am aware i said bunny wouldn’t be around many other readers, but other than lamb, if anyone will break through it’s pup. she and bun have the same energetic, sexually charged ditsy ways, so i think around eachother they’d be able to unapologetically be themselves and treat the world as their playground. their friendship would be less about sitting and talking and more about running around getting into chaos and spending money on rafes card. in another world they’re f4f gfs.

mouse:

i’ve spoken of this many times, but an underrated yet unstoppable duo is mouse and kitty. they enable eachother in the worst ways, mouse teaching kitty how to not get caught when shop lifting, kitty teaching mouse how to fuck, smoke cigs and mouth off (shes too shy to do the last, and lets kitty fight many of her battles)

they spend alot of time together, perhaps to the point of being completely codependent, never seen without the other. kitty was even there the first time mouse had sex, holding her hand. they bicker, but it’s because they care about eachother.

[vervainandspritz]

CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?—please, don't leave me

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request by @goblinjnr

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, grieving, angst, suicide

A/N: it's very fucking sad so beware

~~

Her eyes shut tight as her husband pressed a loving kiss onto her lips. Y/N's body involuntarily relaxing into his hands, causing Tommy to smile through the kiss.

”Mrs. Shelby, are you cold? I can see goosebumps on your skin” He teased, leaning forward as he grazed the skin of her neck with his nose, causing her to let out a sigh.

”Very funny” She responded, pinching his side lightly with a grin. ”That's what happens to a woman when her husband finally decides to put business away and give her affection instead.” Her voice was also teasing, as her own gaze completely drowned in his intense blue orbs.

Pulling her even closer, Tommy's nose brushed against hers in a promise of a kiss.

”So I'll have to consider doing this more often.”

Leaving last, strong kiss on her lips Tommy took a step back.

”Do what you have to, and come find me.” Y/N asked, squeezing his hand lightly, her expression relaxed and almost dreamy seeing him in such a good humour.

Bowing lightly, Thomas answered.

”Don't go too far, I'll join you soon.” His voice had an undertone of worry to it, his eyes becoming slightly more cloudy at the obvious allusion.

Giving him a weak nod, Y/N agreed, understanding exactly what he meant.

Don't go anywhere on your own, it's dangerous

Turning around, Thomas slowly walked back to his office, his steps echoing throughout the corridor as the warmth of their lovely encounter disappeared under the weight of reality.

Y/N let out a sharp breath, her heart picking up speed as her hand fell to her belly, causing more internal pain than anything. The mask she had to wear around him was becoming heavier with each passing day.

But she couldn't tell him. Not when the prognosis were so hopeful the last time they visited the hospital together. Not after seeing him gain back the spark he lost for so long.

Letting out a sharp exhale, Y/N turned around, slowly walking back to their bedroom. Wincing quietly she made her way through the corridor before settling on a bed lightly.

The day they found out was the worst day in her life. Rushing to the doctor so hopefully, once she noticed her stomach... Growing. After trying for a baby, could it finally happen? Y/N wondered back then, showing Tommy the swelling on her stomach.

Putting his hand over her belly, he was the happiest man in the world, dimples on his cheeks revealing to their full extent as he smiled so brightly, a rare sight but how beautiful she felt. A family, of her own.

A girl? A boy? They wondered the day before her visit. Chatting away endlessly about names, clothes and toys for a little Shelby.

A heavenly happiness that lasted no longer than three days, before they got crushed by the diagnosis.

Stomach cancer

Thomas' hand fell limp by his side, as Y/N froze completely. It took a longer minute, followed by ”I'm so sorry” from the doctor before tears appeared. Falling faster and heavier, each one a nail to her poor heart, wiping away every dream they managed to talk about in the last days.

All hope, gone, just like that.

...but it wasn't over just yet, as Dr. Wellerman explained the path they will have to go through. The risks of chemotherapy, additional tests and needed medication.

Tommy tried to stay strong, so badly, despite the white colour his face turned. Nausea took over his mind as he listened to each word, listening to the doctor explaining her survival rate. He needed to be strong.

So he was, carrying the weight like a world champion, never letting her carry it alone.

”Don't cry” He murmured in the worst nights, rocking her back and forth in his arms, sitting on the floor by the bed. ”We will bring you back to good health, and then have children. Little copies of our own, eh? A girl with my nose and your smile.” He spoke quietly into her ear, staring blankly at a wall. Whispering beautiful words she so desperately needed to hear, keeping her heart from breaking.

With each week they were both feeling worse, Y/N's physical state worsening visibly throughout the chemotherapy. The pain she felt in her abdomen could be compared to the flames from hell, reaching her ruthlessly and blooming the horrible thought she tried to push away so badly.

I want to die already, her mind would whisper cruelly, hating the way her husband's bones became more visible. His sunken eyes which lost all colour, almost as if he was the one with tumour eating away on his body and mind.

It wouldn't be much different then, because the pain he carried seeing her slowly fade away was easily the most difficult battles he had to fight.

A couple years back, Thomas would never expect to even think that, but the war in France was nothing compared to the unfair war he chose to fight everyday, holding onto his wife at all costs.

On the worst days, he would silently cry against the door of their bathroom, begging her to let him in as she cried so loudly.

”Don't look at me, I'm disgusting!” Y/N kept repeating, looking in the shattered mirror at her reflection. She was a shadow of her old self, her almost completely bald head mocking her, along with the colourless eyes that looked back.

”Y/N, please. Don't shut me away” His voice was breaking, despite the attempts to stay strong. Minutes later he would be on the floor by her side, kissing her temples and holding so tightly to not let her drown.

”You're beautiful, Mrs. Shelby. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” He talked, looking her in the eyes, his deep, honest voice never ceasing to bring her out of misery even just for a few seconds. Rough fingertips grazing over her delicate, pale skin. ”So beautiful I just had to marry you.”

A deep silence following his gentle tone, as his fingers drew random patterns on her skin.

”Am I dying, Tommy?” She asked quietly, her voice so fearful as she held onto his shirt, head resting on his shoulder. Thomas was almost sure she could physically hear his heart shattering at the question.

”No,” He replied confidently, getting her to look him in the eyes. To see the lack of hesitation and the fire he had in him, as her own was slowly getting smaller. She was losing hope. ”You're not dying. I wouldn't let you leave me, after all, eh?” He said, small, weak smile appearing on his lips and reaching her eyes.

”I love you so much” She whispered, slowly nodding off to sleep against his heartbeat.

Y/N remembered every and each of those days when he's been the lifeline. The only reason she was getting up and fighting against the cruel faith, slipping from death's embrace every day, almost like his love was keeping her alive.

...and it worked. Tests started coming back better than before, the cancer responded well to the chemo, allowing life to slowly seep back into their reality.

Y/N could never forget how happy it made them. Made him. The way he laughed and joked, and touched her looking, oh the way he looked at her. Like nothing else mattered, as he brought her flowers and loved every moment they had. Thomas grew to appreciate her presence so much, even the business wasn't able to get a hold of his mind as often anymore.

Life was a dream, until it wasn't.

The pain and swelling grew, sometimes making it difficult to move her legs even. Y/N held onto the thought that it was temporary, that everything was okay, so she didn't tell him. Couldn't bring herself to share her worries, seeing the way he lived and not just survived anymore.

So the secrets began, every letter from the hospital started coming to the rented storage she kept away from everyone. Tests getting more worrying until one, particular one, killed the hope completely.

The cancer no longer remained in her stomach, now spreading to the liver, lymph nodes and lungs, crushing the potential survival rate to 3%.

”Oh God” She cried at first, howling so loudly her throat grew sore and voice weak.

But it wasn't the worst. The worst was pretending around Tommy, forcing herself to smile and walk and talk as lively as before.

Be there for him, and try hard enough to smile so it would reach her eyes, because else he would know.

Each day was harder as the pain grew stronger. Eventually she had to start shaving her head every few days, to hide the fact she stopped the chemotherapy.

The pain was too much. The first time was easier, as she mindlessly shared the misery with Tommy. Carrying it together was easier, but with how much he loved her, seeing her in that state was killing him more than cancer was killing her.

So she pretended. Smiling, shaving her head and making sure to keep her expression stoic as the swelling burned hellishly.

So here she was, sitting on the edge of their bed, both hands on her belly in hopes to ease the pain. Unfamiliar pain, one so strong she couldn't breath at all.

”Tommy” She managed to whimper out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the nightstand so hard, her knuckles turned white. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Y/N felt her legs giving out as she fell down with a loud thump, starting to cough.

Barely opening her eyes, she noticed the drops of crimson red fluid dirtying the clean, wooden floor. Her mind turned hazy, feeling completely out of it as more and more blood splattered the floor.

Only then did she barely register the fast, loud steps approaching.

”Y/N!” Thomas boomed loudly, rushing to her side. His face was completely pale, his shaky hands wrapping around her chest as he pulled her up, completely panicked. ”Frances! Frances call the ambulance!” He screamed in a frenzy, leaning forward to try and help. ”Y/N, I'm here, I'm here.” He choked out as her eyes became cloudy, breaths coming out in short bursts. ”Y/N! Look at me, please fucking look at me!” Tears steamed down his face at the suddenly terrible state she found herself in. She looked at him, but couldn't see.

As he cried, and screamed, pulling all the old medication she used to be taking from her nightstand, spilling them by his side and looking for the particular one that used to help with breathing problems, Y/N was halway gone.

Physically she couldn't see, struggling to breathe enough to keep her brain functioning yet the only thing she could think of was him.

Please, don't take me away. Who's going to protect him from the self-destruction his heart holds?

”Please, don't leave me” He cried out weakly, pushing his forehead against her collarbone, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Hiding.

The memory of his happy, blue eyes was the last thing she registered, feeling as if he gently eased her into sleep, taking away all the pain. In reality, Thomas couldn't hold in the animalistic howling that ripped from his throat while he held her tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth as the sound of an ambulance pulling up by the Arrow house came to his ears.

From this moment, there was nothing.

***

She was gone.

He lost count of the amount of hours since it happened. Thomas didn't know if it was a night or a day, as he forced the maids to cover every source of light in the house before sending them away. The alcohol combined with opium in his system made him see the most beautiful things in the dark, memories shining so brightly.

His eyes rolled back at the scent of her, as he was holding her nightgown to his chest. Blood was trickling from his fingers, dirtying the pink material because of the destruction he brought upon the Arrow house once left alone.

Rocking back and forth in the middle of the room, he remembered the sight of his wife sitting by the vanity, laughing as she made him roll his eyes with her smart mouth. She fitted so perfectly, so perfectly with the scent he was feeling.

It was all that mattered, as long as he felt her presence around him.

In the next few days Polly threw away all the opium he had, trying her best along with her nephews to support him through the ripping loss. Only if he wanted that help, maybe everything would eventually be okay.

But for him, there was nothing before her, and nothing after her. The story was done.

Once left alone again, he let out a sigh, feeling the pounding headache. The noise was overwhelming, impossible to suppress ever since she was gone.

”I can hear them coming again” He whispered into the silence of his office, as the shovels dug against the walls from every direction. Getting louder with every passing minute. ”They want to take you away from me, darling” His voice was rough from the lack of using it. Opening his eyes, Thomas looked at the portrait hanging on the wall. You and him. Like like he promised. His eyes on the painting were far from reality, not resembling the dark irises, swallowed completely by madness which took over his mind without change. ”I won't let you leave me” He repeated the line from the past, lips wrapping around the familiar words as he pulled out the pistol from his holster. Lazily pressing the muzzle against his head as his lips turned upwards into a heartfelt smile. ”I'm coming, sweetheart.”

His loving words were followed by a loud bang, as the bullet ruthlessly ripped through his skull and brain, only to get stuck in the old furniture in another room.

His body went completely limp as the unlit cigarette fell onto the desk, becoming the last sound of their lively love ever heard in the wall of the Arrow house.

A house which became a cemetery for the undying love, and future that would never come.

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine

[kneel-before-queen-loki]

I'm not huge on the horror genre, I just don't have a positive relationship with that kind of adrenaline response, but I understand the point you're making about the message being anti-sex and it therefore serving the writer's goal with the work, so I'm not going to go into further detail there.

I have seen Castlevania, so I know the scene you're referring to, and I do agree that the narrative as a whole benefitted from it being properly present rather than a fade. I also think it's less of a sex scene and more of a naked scene with sexual undertones. Particularly compared to the one between Hector and Lenore, which is the one I was expecting you to talk about when you brought up Castlevania. In that scene the sex itself is being used against Hector to distract and coerce him into something he otherwise wouldn't consent to. In that case I do think the sex was actually pertinent and meaningful to the story.

This is in direct contrast to the show that I think is most known for its sex scenes, Game of Thrones. I haven't seen the entirety of the show, but I know for a fact that the majority of them had very little to do with the advancement of any plot or character development, and didn't have anywhere near enough function to them to warrant inclusion.

Bridgerton, a show I've watched in full, also had a lot of gratuitous sex scenes that I presume were holdover from the novels, and I think they could've cut a lot of them, but credit where credit is due, the ones in season one were often story-relevant even if they weren't all story-moving, since much of the plot of that season was about Daphne's sexual awakening. I still think we didn't need to see all the newlyweds fuck after their weddings, though, not even really with a fade to black, we all knew what they were doing and none of them were unorthodox enough to be revealing anything about their characters.

That's my experience with sex scenes in specific pieces of media, the consensus being, too many sex scenes, people need to stop masturbating in the writers room.

"sex scenes have no narrative purpose" is such a funny take on so many levels. people will really believe that the whole human experience is valuable to portray artistically except sex, which of course has never held emotional weight or significance for anybody

[olderthannetfic]

Oh, I love getting to talk about the history of fandom, especially fanfiction that predates Kirk/Spock. Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the cultural significance of Spirk. But I often see people citing Spirk zines as "the first ever fanfiction" or "the creation of modern fandom" when there have definitely been pioneers that came before that!

A lot can also be said about how many stories like Jason and the Argonauts or Paradise Lost are essentially self-insert fanfiction, but since so many of these literary classics were written before the advent of modern copyright law (therefore making creative works the property of the author, and not simply public domain) some people consider the first "true" fanfics, in the sense that the creator legally owns the source material, were for Gulliver's Travels.

But you could go back in time for centuries and still find examples of fanfiction. Shakespeare wrote about dozens and dozens of real people, and based loads of his works on historical figures or existing tales. He was, essentially, writing RPF.

The truth of it is, you could go back through thousands of years of human history and find examples of fanfic dating all the way back to the beginning of recorded time.

And I just think that's awesome.

--

The significance of K/S is that there's a direct line from that to a certain part of LJ fandom and then to AO3. It's definitely not the first fandom or the first fic.

[elryuse]

Hi, I really like your stuff! Could you try to write a wholesome yandere? It will be kind of a challenge for you considering how dark your stories get but the I think you'll do well.

KILLING ME SOFTLY

YANDERE WINTER X MALE READER

Winter, the radiant star of the K-pop group, was a woman of contradictions. On stage, she was a dazzling performer, captivating audiences with her powerful vocals and mesmerizing dance moves. Off stage, however, she was a creature of shadows, a woman consumed by a dark and obsessive love.

Her obsession was Y/N, her manager, a man of quiet strength and unwavering loyalty. He was her anchor, her guiding star, the one who brought light into her often chaotic world. But Winter's love for him was not a simple affection. It was a possessive, all-consuming obsession, a dark force that threatened to consume her entirely.

Whenever a female idol or staff member dared to approach Y/N, Winter's jealousy would flare up, a fiery inferno that threatened to consume everything in its path. Her eyes would narrow, her lips would curl into a sinister smile, and a chill would run down the spine of anyone who dared to cross her path.

Y/N, though aware of Winter's obsessive nature, was not deterred. He understood the depths of her love, the darkness that fueled her passion. He knew that beneath the facade of the fierce idol was a vulnerable woman, a woman who craved love and acceptance.

"Winter," he would say, his voice gentle, "you don't have to be afraid."

She would look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love and fear. "I'm not afraid," she would insist, her voice trembling. "I just... I care about you."

Y/N would smile, a knowing smile. "I know, Winter. I know."

Despite her possessive nature, Winter was a talented and dedicated artist. She poured her heart and soul into her music, her performances, and her craft. She was a perfectionist, demanding the best of herself and those around her.

One day, a new female idol, a rising star named Luna, joined their agency. She was young, beautiful, and talented, and she immediately caught Y/N's attention. Winter, sensing a threat, grew increasingly jealous. She watched Luna's every move, her every interaction with Y/N.

One evening, at a company dinner, Winter confronted Luna. "Stay away from him," she warned, her voice low and menacing.

Luna, taken aback by Winter's aggression, apologized and retreated. But Winter was not satisfied. She knew that she had to do more to protect her claim on Y/N.

She began to sabotage Luna's career, spreading rumors, sabotaging her performances, and undermining her confidence. Luna, once a rising star, began to fade, her light dimmed by Winter's dark shadow.

Y/N, aware of Winter's actions, was troubled. He knew that she was hurting herself, hurting others, in the name of love. He tried to reason with her, to calm her down, but she was beyond reason.

"You don't understand," she would say, her eyes filled with a desperate intensity. "I can't lose you."

Y/N sighed. "I'll always be here for you, Winter. But you have to let go. You have to let others be happy."

Winter, however, was unwilling to compromise. She was a woman possessed, a creature of darkness. And she would do anything to keep Y/N by her side, even if it meant destroying everything around her.

Y/N, despite his love for Winter, was aware of the destructive path she was treading. He knew that her obsession, if unchecked, could lead to disaster. He had to find a way to help her, to guide her back to the light.

He began to spend more time with her, trying to distract her from her obsessive thoughts. He would take her on walks, watch movies with her, and talk to her about her dreams and aspirations. He encouraged her to focus on her music, on her art, on the things that brought her joy.

At first, Winter was resistant. She wanted Y/N to herself, and she didn't want anything to distract him from her. But as time passed, she began to see the wisdom in his words. She realized that her obsession was not only hurting herself but also those around her.

She started to practice self-control, to manage her emotions. She began to see the world through a different lens, a lens of compassion and understanding. She learned to appreciate the beauty of life, the joy of human connection.

Y/N was proud of her progress. He had helped her to see the light, to break free from the darkness that had consumed her. Their relationship deepened, their bond strengthened by their shared experiences.

One day, as they were walking through the park, Winter turned to Y/N and said, "Thank you."

"For what?" Y/N asked, puzzled.

"For everything," she replied. "For loving me, for understanding me, for helping me to be a better person."

Y/N smiled. "You're welcome, Winter. I love you."

Their love story was a testament to the power of love and understanding. It was a story of redemption, of hope, of a love that could conquer all.

The soft hum of the café filled the air as Winter and Y/N sat across from each other, their hands intertwined. The warmth of the afternoon sun seeped through the window, casting a golden glow on their faces. It was a simple, quiet moment, a moment of peace and contentment.

Winter, once a tempestuous force of nature, now exuded a serene calmness. The darkness that had once consumed her had been replaced by a gentle light. She had learned to love herself, to love others, and to appreciate the beauty of life.

"Remember when I used to be so obsessed with you?" she asked, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Y/N chuckled. "I remember. It was quite a ride."

"I'm so glad you stuck with me," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "You helped me to see the light."

Y/N squeezed her hand. "I'm glad I did. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

As they walked hand-in-hand through the park, the setting sun cast long shadows across the path. They talked about their dreams, their hopes, their future. They talked about the life they would build together, a life filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

As they stood beneath the twilight sky, Y/N turned to Winter and kissed her forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

Winter smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I love you too," she replied.

And as they walked away, hand in hand, they knew that their love story was just beginning.

- To Be Continued -

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

There something I've been seriously wondering about when it comes to Yuu and the world of twisted wonderland. (This probably hasn't been mentioned in game and is just something I've thought about a lot)

Considering the fact that Yuu is from a different world I've been wondering about how their immune system would certainly be different to that of people who originally reside in twisted wonderland, so I've been thinking that surely due to that Yuu would have the tendency to get more often sick due to them not being used to the viruses twisted wonderland has (unless they have super good immunity), this would make not only Yuu have no magic, but also have the downside of getting a sick a lot more.

(also sorry if I misspell anything English ain't my first language)

Just a yap session cause I had this in my mind for ages and I wanted to talk about it for once.

That's true, it's not really something covered or addressed in most isekai stories (unless the story itself revolves around health)--and for a good reason, I think. I doubt the creators want the audience to constantly worry about the physical wellbeing of their (usually) self-insert protagonist who gets to live a fantastical new life in a world with magic and hot cat girls or whatever. It would fight for the attention of the wish fulfillment or major conflict at hand. Having the POV character be sick all of the time also makes it more difficult to actually write interesting, dynamic scenarios since they'd be bedridden or preoccupied with recovering. This is a matter of practicality.

I'm sure there are Yuusonas out there with poor immune systems (or even preexisting conditions) that play with this idea? Like maybe they're a frequent visitor of the school infirmary or they need to have regular check-ins with the nurse. This could also be an avenue to see how they react to magic-based medical treatment or potions, which don't appear to be a cure-all, despite the miracles that magic can achieve. We have a lot of diversity in the Twst fandom's OCs, and that allows all these different aspects to be explored.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

I can respect that. I myself often struggle with simply existing in between what is and what should be. Ideally yes, the presidency shouldn't be decided based on who is better at selling snake oil, but that's also the reality we live in. So the question becomes: "Do we stoop to the level of making our candidate a showman/woman over an intellectual, or do we keep pushing the intellectual and hope it works one day?" And mind you, I'm using "intellectual" as more of a personality identifier than a compliment. An intellectual can have dumb as rock takes, so long as they talk smartly, they're going to come across as "intellectual". But this isn't an exact science, just my own thoughts on it, I suppose. Don't take this binary too seriously, I sure don't.

My take on why Kamala lost is somewhat of a long one. Since I feel this element of it is all but guaranteed to get me sidetracked, I'll push past the business about how she was unfairly thrust upon us as a candidate, thus proving the primaries are essentially "rigged" and pointless (at least as far as the DNC goes, but for all I know, the RNC could be the same. I'm not a Republican so I couldn't say really). This is a big reason against her though, so it shouldn't be ignored. There was no hand-waving this issue away, and we can sit here and discuss what alternatives did or didn't exist until we're blue in the face, but as I said, that would sidetrack us.

Beyond that, I believe her biggest issue is one that the Democrats have had for years now and that's just a blanket assumption that Dems will just "Vote Blue No Matter Who", the idiotic phrase I will argue against until the day I die it seems. This is most evident by her inability to work her own base to vote for her, and instead she's out parading around Liz Cheney in some feeble-minded attempt to try and win over people who do not want to vote for her.

I mean she had 7,000,000+ less people vote for her than Biden, meanwhile Trump has gained 13,000,000+ since 2016. We consistently hear about how "if everyone who didn't vote voted, statistically most of them would vote Democrat" and yet it never seems to click with Democrats that they should be currying favor from non-voters as opposed to Republican voters. I don't understand why they're so insistent on trying to flip voters when there are tons of undeclared votes just sitting there. There were around 90,000,000 people who didn't vote. Even just a few million of those in the right states would've won her the election.

And to jump back to my point about trying to flip votes, they don't even do that right either, not that there's much hope of it working to begin with. They send out completely mixed messages like sending Liz Cheney out to campaign with Kamala, indicating that yes, even some Republicans are voting for her, while simultaneously telling you that if you don't vote for her, you're an idiot, uneducated, etc.

Like I know this sounds obnoxious, but I also fail to see how it isn't just common sense. You can believe in your heart of hearts that Republicans are dumb backwater hillbilly hicks all you'd like, but when you're in the midst of an election and for some idiotic reason your candidate is trying to appeal to those dumb backwater hillbilly hicks, perhaps you should reserve your opinions of them until after the election. When applying for a job, maybe you shouldn't call the guy interviewing you a dumbass until after you've left the interview, even if he was in fact a dumbass.

I also disagree with the sentiment that Republicans are the only ones voting based on emotion. Did you not hear Democrats leading into, and post-election? They genuinely believe the end of the world was at stake. Republicans may have voted on the hope that Trump will be their savior, but Democrats voted on the fear that Trump would be their doom. Fear is just as much an irrational emotion as hope is.

To summarize because I feel like I probably didn't get my point across too clearly:

Forced on us as our candidate, completely disregarding democracy, proving once and for all the primaries are pointless and it's all rigged.

Blanket assumption that Democrats will vote Democrat regardless of candidate, their platform, or the way they run their campaign.

Complete disregard of their own base, in favor of flipping votes.

In addition to the last point, would rather fail to flip votes than work on getting any of the millions of non-voters involved.

Indecisive attitudes of "we are better than you, Republicans" but also "please vote for us, Republicans".

Scapegoating minorities not voting for them as why they didn't win, on top of just in general lacking understanding as to why they didn't win.

The entire DNC needs to be ripped up from the roots and replaced.

[eliotbaum]

This is gonna be a weird message and I hope it doesn't put you on the spot (you don't have to answer it at all)! You probably don't remember this (especially since im on anon) but years ago you commissioned me (a small, unknown artist) to draw your characters from Heart of Gold and it made me incredibly happy. But to this day I feel bad thinking back to what I delivered. I gave it my all but it just wasn't a good commission and I just wanted to get it off my chest that I'm really sorry about it! You were one of my fav artists even back then and I still wish I had had the skill to do your work justice. (You were nothing but nice about it though and this really isn't meant as a guilt trip! It's just been on my mind for so long 😅)

Oh!! I have never received a commission I wasn’t over the moon with so I couldn’t recollect which comm you’re talking about! But aaaah please don’t be so hard on yourself anon artist 😭 and no need to apologize! I am sad to hear that after all this time you’re still bothered by what you delivered, but I also completely understand. I’ve delivered commissions/work that I later on was dissatisfied with. But how we perceive what we do and what the commissioner/client in the end receives and views through their pink-tinted blorbo loving glasses is often worlds apart. Maybe there is always some trepidation when it comes to another artist commissioning you, but I don’t look for mistakes when I receive art. I’m just happy to see my guys and gals in another style 😌

What matters is that you gave everything you could at the time and that already means a lot to me. If you’re ever up for it and want to give it another shot, feel free to write me privately and I can see if there’s something I’d like commissioned again 👀

[jazeswhbhaven]

hi!! can I request whb!kings ( and some nobles if you want ) reactions to a mc who says they love long-haired men?

Hi there!! I am feeling this request heavy because I too find long-haired men aesthetically pleasing to look at irl and fiction. Let's see what our kings think :P

Satan: He has long hair. It's fluffy, unruly at times and smells like cat fur, but it's still long. So when he hears MC going on and on about men with long hair, he's grabbing their hands and forcing them to pet his hair and play with it. I mean he's standing right there, might as well fulfill your desires MC....

Mammon: He hears that MC loves long-haired men and it brings him back to the time he had long hair, long and luxurious that he inherited from his father. Using his little Ai bots and a bit of magic, he creates a machine that can change your hairstyle in less than 5 minutes. And with that, his hair grows out past his shoulders, and MC is in awe. Leave it to Mammon to do anything for MC's attention.

Beelzebub: His hair is kinda long, but it's styled because he prefers it that way. But he starts to get testy about MC being around Bael because when he takes it down from being tied up, it's pretty damn long, he just never has time to cut it. Because of that, he may have cut Bael's hair while he was sleeping....that way MC won't have any distractions and can be reminded of Beel when he's away. It's a good thing the other nobles have short hair....

Leviathan: What's so good about long hair? It gets in the way, makes you look like a wild animal, and isn't very flattering at all. He's already upset with MC even mentioning others who have long hair and a particular devil comes to mind. Next thing you know, MC is noticing that Levi is letting his hair grow out. The other devils in Hades are now required to keep their hair at a certain length which is no longer than the bottom of their ear lobes.

Lucifer: His hair is kept at neck length because he prefers it that way, but can understand why MC likes long-hair. In fact, he mentions that Gamigin has long hair and that MC should go and braid it sometimes. Though, MC's point was to get Lucifer to try and grow out his hair longer, maybe past his shoulders. That won't ever happen, his hair would get caught in his open wound that still on his back and he can't have that.

Belphegor: He likes his hair medium length because it's less maintenance. He doesn't think he could ever deal with long hair because it would never be washed and get all messed up and greasy beyond repair. However, he's willing to put on a wig for MC because he can take that off easily, or just get Beleth to do it. But don't expect that wig to be in good condition after a couple days of him sleeping in it.

Asmodeus: His hair is so long it drags across the floor. So when MC mentions loving long-haired men he's front and center smothering them with his hair. He even asks MC if they would like it if he grew out his hair in other places too. Also he read their mind when they once thought about doing inappropriate things with his hair. He wants to try that out. Right now in fact.

NOBLES TIME~

Sitri: His hair is short now, so when he hears about MC having a thing for long-haired men, he's considering growing it out again. After a couple weeks his hair reaches his shoulders and it's fluffy and pretty. Everyone in the palace kept forgetting it was Sitri, and MC was running into things because they kept staring. He felt it was too much of a distraction so he cuts it. But it was fun while it lasted.

Zagan: This noble has such pretty silky hair, MC can't help but compliment him each time. Zagan doesn't have much to say, but here lately he's been using a different conditioner and shampoo and now his hair is even longer and shiny. He secretly hopes this gets MC to talk to him more.

Paimon: He always has his hair tied up in pigtails so when he reveals how long his hair is to MC, he's happy to hear that MC is impressed and wants to play with it often. Paimon even encourages MC to get extensions to match, because he also likes long-hair on potential suitors. Now they can matcchhhhhh <3

Bael: He's pretty pissed off that Beel cut his hair in the middle of the night, but at least now he looks even more similar to his annoying best friend. He always liked having his long hair tied back and even planned on growing it out more because he found out MC likes long-haired men. Now it's his chance again, at least his hair grows fast.

SURPRISE ITS RIN!!!~

When Jjok turns into his other form, his hair is long, pretty, and super red like his fur. It was merely a coincidence that MC happens to like men with long-hair so he brags about it whenever he gets the chance too. Imagine him, a simple red lump demon that can turn into a hottie with long-hair? He smiling and even bothering Lucifer about it too.

[lbulldesigns]

Wild Rune Foreshadowing Jayce, Heimendinger, and Ekko's roles in the coming episodes

I just had this sudden epiphany about the true significance of Jayce, Heimendinger, and Ekko's scene in the Wild Rune at the end of Act I.

The way that the Wild Rune distorts them is basically showing us what they are experiencing individually and foreshadowing their roles in the rest of the season.

Jayce:

We have this, honestly, really cool loop of Jayce which stands out from Heimendinger and Ekko's distortion. For one he's in tack, he isn't splintering apart or anything. Two, he looks at his previous self before facing forward which indicates that he's stuck repeating himself until we get to the end where he looks horrified at the Wild Rune and asks "what have we done" before attacking it with his hammer.

And going by how worn-out Jayce looks in Act II, his dialogue with Viktor, plus him just instantly attacking Viktor on sight. All points towards Jayce having been stuck in a time loop, and episode 6 is him finally breaking out of it.

I think the Wild Rune put him through this particular hell because it wants Jayce to fix his mistakes, but considering Jayce's habit of making decisions without fully thinking ahead (i.e. his deal with Silco, resurrecting Viktor, building the failsafe in a location that he didn't thoroughly vet first and making sure was safe) and then regretting said actions once things go wrong, the time loop could be the Wild Rune's way of forcing Jayce to make his mistakes until he either learns from them or learns to avoid them.

The glitching out we see before he shoots Viktor, going by Riot's way of showcasing mental struggles with individual characters i.e. Jinx seeing scratches and neon sketches when she has a breakdown, him splitting apart into more of himself can be a nod towards him reliving this experience again and again and again. He was prepared to talk at this point, and then he just starts shooting instead.

Heimendinger:

Now, onto Eldricheimer.

I've seen a lot of Biblically Accurate Heimendinger jokes going around, and this is mostly because of how his face splits apart and his eyes multiply.

I don't think the animators put this in just to show how disturbing the Wild Rune is, I think they wanted us to actually think of Eldrich beings when looking at him. For those who aren't well versed or know about H.P. Lovecraft's work, the Eldrich horrors in his stories share the same concept. They're creatures so ancient that looking upon them will drive you insane. They break the laws of our nature and are often hard to describe, much like biblically accurate angels who are described as having many eyes.

The reason why either of these beings are difficult to understand or describe is because they basically shoot knowledge straight into your brain, they show you the answers to the universe, but because our minds can't hold that much information, we go insane and perceive what we are experiencing as a horrific experience.

When Heimendinger is affected, his body is being held still and is facing forward. His arms are held stiffly by his side, as if he's being forced. And then his eyes splinter from his face and multiply (even on the wall behind him), with his many eyes staring outwards in wide eyed in horror.

The Wild Rune is forcing Heimendinger to look. It's forcing a person who has stayed so consistently and ignorantly blind to the point of sheer stubbornness to actually look.

Heimendinger, as we all know, doesn't take accountability for his actions. He is 200 years old, he assisted in the founding of Piltover, he lead the council throughout that time, and has basically allowed Zaun to fall so stupidly and pointlessly into destitution because he wouldn't look at what was happening in front of him. He stayed focused on his pride and joy, Piltover.

I speculate that, if we go by the theme we have so far with time distortion, that Heimendinger is being made to watch everything both past and future. This would drive a normal person insane, but Heimendinger is basically immortal therefore his mind would be able to handle the information overload; you don't live through centuries without being able to compartmentalize hundreds of years of memories.

And going by his League description, Heimendinger is a scientist that vows to understand the knowledge of the universe, both natural and magic. This is how we are going to get the unhinged Heimendinger who build mecha T-Rex's as shown in his splash art.

Ekko:

I thought that this was a pretty cool shot not gonna lie, I 100% believe that Ekko isn't dead, I mean we all understand his game counterparts history with time and there are still scenes with him that we haven't seen yet, so the revalation that his is a-okay is not that ground breaking.

But I really like where the writers and animators are going in regards to him acquiring his time manipulaton abilities for the show. Him creating a time machine because his a genius is good and all, but how much more poetic is it that he learns to master time by being taught by time itself and using both his newly acquired knowledge and his expertise in tinkering and inventing to then make the Z-Drive.

The boy who shattered time, being shattered apart.

And we all understand where his story is gonna go from here, he is going to be able to rewind time to fix things. Perhaps the Wild Rune imparted this knowledge onto him to counteract any mistakes that jayce would make, or to ensure that the best outcome would be achieved for whatever crisis (possible Void invasion) may be coming.

Or maybe it saw his wish to save Powder/Jinx from herself, but because fate has had a trajectory already outlined refuses to let him go that far back.

Perhaps the events of episode 6 are where the Wild Rune will allow this fate's story to be manipulated, like rewritting a chapter to determine a better ending to the book. There could be a chance that Jinx will play a pivitol role in the events to come, and that her dying before the upcoming battle will ensure a bad outcome... Or that could just be my own wishful thinking, I don't know.

[dogsplayingpoker]

Ok weird it wasn't letting me reblog this properly. Anways hiiiii

I did read it (over a year ago when i reblogged this) and that isn't what I said, or my criticism of his point and, overall, the neo-liberal ancient-contemporary comparative perspective that Devereaux is routinely writing these articles in. It would be silly to be fully Pro-Rome, sure, but I'm not really accusing him of that persay. I do still think his general perspective is a silly and factually inaccurate one and disagree with it, so I therefor disagree with the arguments he makes starting from this perspective. In particular, I think that no matter how much he claims to actively be against it, Devereaux and the many historians that follow his same playbook end up: 1. romanticizing (I previously said "admiring," which may have been where we got mixed up) Rome by claiming it was a ghastly horrific slave state (true) while also being unable to help from looking to "the good parts" with a kind of breathless nostalgia, and here, overtly for guidance. This is of course a pretty common issue for classicists, unfortunately, including professors of mine that I've generally really respected. Usually the "good parts" = freedom of religion in occupied territories, civil rights afforded to slaves (+the way that pre-Race slavery functioned differently in general), and exactly what Devereaux says in the title of the article, i.e. their "Notion of authority" being likened, often, to a gentle but firm father figure who knows whats best for his children. It is absolutely hilarious to me how often historians, even ones that claim to have left-wing values, can believe in the noble pater familias rule of the romans with a smile and a tear in their eye. Does anyone else here remember 'the white man's burden'? Did anyone see that weird tucker carlson speech where he talks about daddy coming to spank the disobedient little girl that (assumably?) was supposed to be the Biden government? Anyways. Writers try to isolate only that there was religious self determination (in occupied territories of an expansionist empire), that they Ruled the horrible violent imperial war machine Fairly, and then don't even hide the fumble when they get to the slavery part, proudly saying YEAH, they were ENSLAVED, sure, and that's BAD, BUT........ This all ties into issue two, or the underlying issue:

2. Devereaux is a liberal American historian that is either unable to appreciate the full context of the country he lives in OR is actively obfuscating it AND/OR accepts it and thinks its just peachy outside of a few stubborn issues like police brutality and the like which he thinks can be handled in a vacuum by throwing enough good old fashioned liberal values at them. He fails to view issues from a systemic lens and therefor thinks anything he doesn't like is a weird flaw coming from some outside source. In that article (and I can't find this specific article again on Foreign Policy to pull examples from, I'm sorry) he was trying to 'learn from rome' for the sake of America. Even if he's saying Rome was a heavily flawed society, he is saying our empire can still learn a good thing from their empire. I disagree with that. I disagree with the empires staying empires in the first place, or that empires are things worth saving, or that they're even possible to save. My argument is also that we should actually definitely not look to Ancient Rome for advice on law enforcement, or indeed any of our policies point blank period. I personally think this kind of Rome-USA compare and contrast exercise is always fnny because the writer also never seems to reckon with how much we already, fundamentally, ARE Rome-- in all the worst ways, and in the ways he's claiming we can 'learn' from them. We already have. We've been romanticizing and following in their footsteps very intentionally the whole time, just as others were inspired to follow in ours in a horrific timeline of gore and human atrocities. Devereaux, per his website, is really into classical liberalism, liberal democracies, private property, free-market capitalism, and John Locke. (https://acoup.blog/2024/07/05/collections-the-philosophy-of-liberty-on-liberalism/). We simply have really different perspectives on politics that also inform how we view and would choose to write about things as historians.

I think this quote from that blog post on liberalism is especially funny in context: "And of course Cicero himself never fully absorbs the implications of his philosophy: a wealthy Roman slave-holder, it never occurs to Cicero that perhaps he daily violates the natural law by keeping people in bondage." Devereaux himself never fully absorbs the implications of his philosophy: a white well-to-do professor in an elite seat within American Academia, it never occurs to Devereaux that perhaps he daily violates the individual freedoms of liberalism by rationalizing and hiding away the dark parts of a fundamentally unjust empire relying on the slave labor of prisoners, the indentured servitude of sweatshop workers worldwide, the slaughter and subjugation of millions of in the global south and the underclasses within the empire itself, and the theft and hoarding of the world's resources. But okay. Cicero bad, John Locke good. Got it. My argument would of course be that they are both bad, both equally ignoring the reality of the society they lived in and their places within it. Devereaux is starting his argument from an already catastrophically flawed point of view that forces him to look past things like 'context' whenever it becomes inconvenient. He has to say in the post multiple times that like yeah, sure, Locke's view of who counted as a "person" worthy of having things like "rights" was, um...narrower than ours today, but he was still correct because I like him (and it's totally different from how other people cited, like Cicero, were incorrect hypocrites). Ignore the slavery and colonialism, same old same old, it is still correct and not at all laughable to claim that the United States was a nation formed on a defining principle of inalienable freedoms for every single person. He mentions that those things were obviously bad but doesn't see them as truly conflicting, more as growing pains. He even says the founding father's misogyny and racism (towards the enslaved specifically: indigenous people, and therefore the ACTUAL founding principles of the US colonial empire, go completely unmentioned) "[...] represented betrayals of the principles that otherwise document: the crime was common, the hypocrisy was special." American exceptionalism who? Obviously if he was saying we should instate a more 1:1 ancient roman government that would also be ridiculous. But my point is that he's asking the wrong questions about the society we have and what's wrong with it in the first place. He is often wrong about Rome and near-universally wrong about America.

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[midnightorchids]

fuck it here’s some dating firefighter!jason headcanons… there’s one suggestive pick up line at the very end ;(

- He often leaves your shared home in a chaotic state— hair disheveled, shoe laces untied and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth

- However despite his hastiness, Jason never seems to forget to kiss you goodbye. His lips would connect with the plump skin of your cheeks first and then travel to your lips. He’d mutter small a “I’ll see you tonight,” and send you a quick wink before running out the door

- He laughs at your jokes and always continues the bit. If you make a fire joke/pun, you know he’s about to make a million more

- “I don't need a fire alarm to tell me that you're on fire.” “Jay come up with something better please”

- Jason works late at the station, so on days where you have some free time, you bring him a shawarma from his favourite restaurant. He’s always surprised, but so unbelievably happy at the same time. If he’s not too busy, you’ll stay and steal a couple bites of his wrap while he tells you about his day

- He brags about you to his coworkers. Like a lot. They all know you by name and they often tease Jason for not shutting the fuck up, they’re tired of hearing about you (actually they’re just jealous)

- Jason is really protective over you, especially in public spaces. He always has his hand on the small of your back or has your hands interlocked. He guides you through crowds and makes sure to keep close. On the off chance that you’re not near him, his eyes will still be on you. It’s never weird or overbearing though, he’s protective, but he’s not over the top

- he regularly watches crime and law enforcement shows with you and has a habit of pointing out inaccuracies (especially when the fire department’s involved). It’s annoying because he talks a lot, but also, it’s so cute when he gets worked up over the small details

- “The fire escape isn't the only thing I want to go down on.” “JASON WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT…!! ;)”