#and that’s tragic. and that’s beautiful.

[vaguely-concerned]

imagining that while rook is gone, about a week and a half or so in, there's one night where lucanis suddenly appears unannounced in illario's room in the way he has of doing that and which could scare anyone else to death on its own, but of all people in the world illario is the most inclined to only find it mildly annoying to look up from his bad boy Brooding and also facemask-equivalent beauty routine (can't be tragically denied even being doomed by the narrative if you ain't cute) to find his cousin -- now first talon of the crows at least in name -- suddenly staring at him intently and expressionlessly from a few meters away. and when illario (half-jokingly, half-seriously, all-yearningly because crows live bad) is like 'ah so is this finally it are you here to kill me' even with no vengeful purple glow in evidence lucanis just snorts scathingly to show all the seriousness with which he still takes that idea and illario has to wistfully be like 'no, I thought not. so to what do I owe the honour, then, first talon. I figured you'd be pretty busy out there by now'.

and lucanis doesn't say anything at all, just stands there silently for a while and then sits down in a corner of the room with his back against the wall and buries his face in his hands. you have to understand how crucial it is for my vision here that they Do Not talk about it. they never talk about it, not in that moment and not later. illario doesn't have the first idea what 'it' could even be, once he's asked 'is it -- caterina? did something happen to...' (feeling suddenly and absurdly as much like a little boy again as lucanis just had before covering his face) and gotten the slightest headshake in response, nothing else he tries to ask even gets a reaction.

everything is all fucked up and nothing is ever going to be like it used to and the fact that this is where lucanis thought to go about whatever has happened to make his eyes look like that is ludicrous on so many levels and in so many ways. but I do think illario eventually sighs and at least sits down on the floor next to him, leaving a bigger distance between them than he might have once both in self-defense and out of something like consideration. 'I'd ask if you'd like to talk about it, but of course I know you. you never do'. (even with everything else that has happened, illario still knows lucanis better than almost anyone in the world. few things could have convinced him that maybe it really is his cousin in there still quite like this prolonged and complete lack of communication lol.) in the silence they fail to keep each other company in the same way they have for years, but maybe they can at least be honest about it now.

and then when lucanis gets to his feet like this entire very strange silent last half hour never happened to brush dust from his clothes and say he has to go... what can illario really do but go 'sure. great talk, as always. happy to be of service' from the floor as he watches his cousin disappear again into the night. I imagine illario wearing some sort of opulent bath robe or something through this whole thing by the way I think that's an important detail to get in there

[fakecrfan]

Okay, anyone who reads enough fanfic has read this one.

It's the fanfic where you can instantly tell who the writer's blorbo is. The blorbo had tragic circumstances in canon maybe but this fic blows it up to 11. The blorbo is horribly mistreated and horribly, horribly sad -- while also being portrayed as extremely beautiful beyond their initial canon depiction. Blorbo also might have been given extra superpowers and abilities.

There is at least one side character who also gets derailed to be extra mean to Blorbo. Maybe they did something in canon that was wrong but this fic blows it out of proportion in order to focus on how hurt Blorbo is. Or maybe the character did nothing wrong at all and was perfectly okay before, but now has their character completely rewritten in order to be an antagonist to the Blorbo and then of course get punished by the narrative for it.

Plot events are rewritten to revolve around Blorbo. If Blorbo was a secondary character before, they are now a main character. If they were a main character before, they still take on a larger share of scene time than previously and are more directly responsible for events. More time is devoted to other characters discussing the Blorbo as well, so that dialogue revolves around them even when they are not present in the scene.

Everything is now about the beautiful tragedy of Blorbo.

Any of that ringing a bell? Well, you can now go see this fanfic in theaters and it will be the most beautiful shit you will ever see in your entire life.

[sleepless-yura]

We’ll do it together

Art I did at the end of November

During the process I have been thinking about the whole path they’ve gone through, and came to the conclusion that their ending is actually happy. Like, the thing is, Vik would have died anyway and probably sooner because of his disease. Now, there’s of course a shimer option, but I believe he wouldn’t survive it, like Jinx did, again because his body not so strong and healthy like hers.

It’s so beautiful, tragic, romantic, and yet happy to die with your “partner” at the same day, being held in his arms.

I’m dead.

[morrowbright]

This scene was do beautiful and ultimately tragic.

To forgive is an act of compassion. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it. - BTVS 2.19

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RINGS OF POWER (2022 - ) Morfydd Clark as Galadriel & Sam Hazeldine as Adar 2.08 Shadow and Flame

[romanceyourdemons]

first chapter of the nonexistent novel "the fourteenth prince is sick of heaven's will"

The fourteenth prince never became emperor, to no one’s surprise. Perhaps the historians of the next dynasty might have been a bit surprised, as they reviewed the series of extraordinary events attached to his name: his birth announced fourteen months after his mother fell pregnant, able to read and write by one year of age and fluently recite the classics by three; skilled in horseback riding and archery at five years and a renowned artist by six, with an inborn gift for divination renowned from Nanyang to north of the Great Wall. Looking at these facts, a historian might find themself believing that the fourteenth prince was destined for greatness, but in his lifetime only one person ever seriously supported him for emperor, and that person was not even his own mother.

The reasons for this were manifold, but all were apparent on the day before the Emperor’s birthday twelve years after the fourteenth prince’s celebrated birth. As most of his half-brothers rushed around finalizing preparations on the birthday gifts they had painstakingly organized, the fourteenth prince settled into a bathtub full of steaming water and herbs, trying to get comfortable, since he knew someone was about to die.

Spring arrived in Chang’an like a diva coming onstage: a brief peek to see if the audience missed her, then an absence to make their hearts grow fonder, then sweeping on all at once, powerful and buxom, all cloying perfume and hot breaths. The courtyard the prince’s bathtub overlooked was raucous with birdsong, but he did not care. He hardly even bothered to listen. He tipped his pitch-dark eyes, watering a bit from the scents of the medicinal herbs, up to the ceiling and ran through the vision that was bound to come true today.

The fourteenth prince, who preferred his childhood name Xiaoju, internally categorized his visions into three groups: useful, useless, and unpleasant. Visions of the results of a dog race, the sudden appearance of a renowned restaurant, a beauty’s outdoor performance being rained out--these things were useful to him. More frequent were the useless visions: a pig in the countryside falling sick, a child being sent out to chop firewood, and similar things. The unpleasant visions featured a human death. All suffering brings pain to the heart of a gentleman, but Xiaoju’s aversion to these visions was more specific: every time a death he foretold came to pass, he would spend the rest of the day out of commission with a splitting  migraine. Only by saving the person could he save himself a headache.

But of course such a thing was easier said than done. As Xiaoju sank his head up to the nose in the steaming water, he thought through what he had to work with for today’s tragedy: a young woman carelessly crosses a city street and gets run down by a careening cart. Very tragic, but how could he hope to prevent it? He did not know who this young woman was; as for where she was, it could be a street in Chang’an, but it might also be in any other prosperous city. The only thing this vision gave him to work with was an off-hand comment from one of the people the young woman skipped by: Don’t you know what tomorrow is? It’s the emperor’s birthday! So, today. At least he knew when his suffering would strike.

Xiaoju turned his eyes to the clear sky outside his courtyard and blew despairing bubbles. Why had the heavens seen fit to give him such a useless gift? If nothing else they could have given him a more dignified trigger for his visions, like incense or meditation. It was just embarrassing to get shackled by the future every time he had wine.

A patch of crimson and green interrupted the pure blue of the sky. Xiaoju sat up so suddenly his whole mouth filled with bitter herbal water. Springing out of the tub and making a mess of the floorboards, he scrambled to the doorway and squinted upwards. He knew that kite. He had seen that exact kite in his vision: fallen, broken, and being waved by an angry shopkeeper at a pair of children just before that vast black cart barreled down the street!

Xiaoju had no time to waste. Chances to save a life and spare himself a migraine were few and far between; if he let this one slip through his fingers, he would never forgive himself. A few steps into the courtyard, he backtracked and grabbed a towel for modesty, and then he was off, off, off, like a demon was on his heels.

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Steve had to admit; it took him some time to realize what he was hearing.

In his defense, he was used to all that Demons and Darkness talk from his kids - and Eddie. Don't forget Mr. Dungeon Master Eddie Munson, that was apparently not a Kink Thing, but a DnD thing -, so he didn't really realize that dragons and epic fights and pierced hearts in a metal song weren't about a fantasy fight with literal dragons. He wasn't good with metaphors, okay?! Sorry for not expecting deep emotional topics from a metal band.

(He knew he was judgemental. He was working on it! It was just... Well. Sometimes he felt like it was harder to battle against the shit he learned from high school hierarchy, than against literal monsters.)

Also, who could blame him for thinking that dragon was about the demodogs or Vecna, or the demobats, or any other Upside Down craziness?! The demobats almost tore out Eddie's heart - he could definitely sing that amazingly beautiful metal song about that!

Yet...

The more he listened to the song, the more he looked closer...

He realized what it was.

It was a love song. A fucking love song!

The realization hit him hard. Like being hit by Billy Hargrove hard. He felt dazzled, confused.

He felt hurt.

Jealousy was a bitch. Even bigger than the word "bullshit" was.

But then... But then!

Eddie came out with another song. And another. And another. Lyrics full of drowning in sweet poison, being stabbed by rusty nails, and eaten alive by birds like Prometheus. (That last one was Steve's favorite. He loved all - how could he not; they were Eddie's! -, but something about the song, about the music and the lyrics moved him. "Punish me! Jail me! I'll always steal the fire! Hit me! Chain me! But I'll- BURN!")

The motifs were always mythical, fantastical, dark and painful. Steve was always shit at analyzing poems and symbols. Yet there he was, recognizing the themes. Recognizing himself in them. Himself - and Eddie.

Eddie never said anything about anything; not about the songs, not about his hurt feelings, and definitely not about his love for Steve. And Steve knew him, understood him. Eddie would continue sing his heart out, without saying anything to him, he would be content with the way things were. It was the tragic rockstar in him.

But Steve? Steve was different.

So, the moment the concert with Eddie's latest love song finished (bats. It was about bats. Of course it was about bats), Steve smiled.

"Do you think the next time you write a song about us, it can be about how delighted you are to be with your boyfriend?"

Eddie froze. And blinked. And stared some more.

Then, with sudden stars in his eyes, he replied, "No. But I can write about crawling into a beating heart and burrowing myself in it forever, helping it pump the blood as an irreplaceable clog in the delicate machine. That's good?"

Steve smiled, his heart beating faster as the tiny, imagined Eddie worked tirelessly. "That's perfect."

"Good."

"Good," they agreed.

Eddie WOULD write love songs for Steve, you guys just aren’t creative enough.

“But he likes metal!” I hear you shout. I shut your lips. He likes metal, yes, but I think a lot of you are confusing the type of metal Eddie listens to with like, hardcore black metal.

Eddie Munson listens to Metallica, Motorhead, Ronnie Dio, all THREE of which have love songs in their discography. Sure, he’s not writing about how much he loves the feeling of Steve’s lips against his and how the sun hits Steve’s eyes at just the right angle or something, but he IS writing about a looming monster, imprisoning him in chains that wrap tightly around his soul like a curse. A fire-breathing demon that pulls him back from his true desires- to capture the forbidden idol from its temple and slay the monster once and for all. He IS writing about running away with precious jewels and destroying all that comes in his path.

Eddie Munson’s writing Wizard-metal love songs about Steve Harrington in a language he’ll never understand. His band loves it because it’s fantastical, it’s intense, it’s metal. Eddie likes it because it’s about the feeling of loving someone that, to his knowledge, he can never have.

You guys gotta start getting wild with it, man. Because the Eddie I know is putting it all on the line tbh.

[thesun4ndthestar]

•What if•

One evening Harry and Draco were hanging out at Grimmauld place, sitting on the couch in the living room. Hugging, talking and sometimes kissing.

When Sirius randomly came into the room sadly smiled, looked at them and said: “You two remind me exactly of James and Regulus.” Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

Nothing more was said. The two younger boys were left briefly confused at what had happened between Harry’s father and Sirius’ younger brother. They had no idea about the tragically beautiful story that had taken place before them.

[auguryofjellyfish]

i read something that made me think deeper about Kamimura's death and how i feel about it....Tsuno's death left me catatonic on friday because i love her deeply, but Kamimura's got wedged in my gut like a shard of glass. or: why Kamimura's death feels worse to me than Tsuno's.

it mostly comes down to the matter of his potential as a person and the circumstances of his death put together.

Tsuno…she had already found herself. just as some other characters, we have met her after she had already grown into herself, and "completed her arc". she knew who she wanted to be and worked tirelessly to uphold that ideal. she had loving family and friends and lived her best life, one that brought her fulfillment. she kept being herself in the killing game. connecting, caring, and loving with all her heart. she remained true to herself until the end.

she died doing what she's always have…trying her best. losing her is deeply tragic because she shone so brightly in life. she didn't manage to do everything she wanted, and it's not like she didn't have problems or flaws, she could have grown further. she didn't die with 0 regrets. it's not like she was done, no, nowhere near. but she was complete.

but..Kamimura... what…did he have? years of suffering and depression, multiple suicide attempts, shaky and uncertain future. barely any family, no friends. Kamimura entered the killing game having almost nothing. but that's not the worst thing.

it's that he was just starting to grow. the killing game and the motives made him absolutely miserable but at the same time...he was starting to form positive relationships. he had started to accept at least some level of support, after years of having to be independent. and obviously, there's Ken- who, if they all had gotten out, would 100% have stayed in Kamimura's life.

he contemplated his life and his dreams. he set a goal. even if small, he was still looking forward. he was starting to become more connected, to gain things he didn't have before...ever so slowly, he was starting to change...and i'm sure, despite his cynicism and ever-present struggle, despite the possibility of dying at any moment...that deep down, the littlest seed of hope for his future was just starting to grow.

and then he died.

it's not only him. it's also his massive unrealized potential. unexpressed feelings, unsaid words. un-lived life. he didn't manage to build a life that brought him satisfaction. he didn't…he didn't manage to do a single thing with his life that he wanted. he was nowhere near his full potential. he died as he lived and he's just gone and he got NOTHING. JUST after he was presented with the hope of his life possibly becoming different.

if Tsuno was at her best, a beautiful tree in full bloom cut short, then Kamimura was a little sappling slowly unfurling, and then getting stomped on and set on fire.

and you know what the worst part is? it didn't need to happen.

none of the previous deaths needed to happen, but they were forced to. this time, nobody snapped. nobody made a mistake, it was an active choice. there was NO good reason for him and Tsuno to die. just one person's selfishness, not even only to save their own hide but to also cause suffering. Tsuno's death was senseless and cruel but compared to Kamimura she at least retained some dignity. he didn't HAVE to be disrespected even in death, body torn apart and desacrated, like he was NOTHING. but he was, for the sake of a convoluted ass bullshit fucking plan.

yes, someone would have to die eventually with this motive. yes, not traumatizing hasegawa this badly thus incapacitating him would have added more risk for the culprit. idgaf. i'm not this upset that he died per se, it's that he died like this without being granted peace in death, with Hasegawa and everyone else unable to say proper goodbye because Kamimura's body's in fucking pieces.

[brightestplanets]

using my step mom's divorce breakdown 85 inch tv she bought as god intended. To watch arcane. And cry over Jayce and Viktor's beautiful tragic ending which looks beautiful on a tv half the size of our living room

[lafleshlumpeater]

Speak Now or Red this or that. Mine or Everything Has Changed? Sparks Fly or Treacherous? Back to December or The Very First Night? Speak Now or Stay Stay Stay? Dear John or 10 min version of ATW? Mean or I Bet You Think About Me? The Story of Us or Sad Beautiful Tragic? Never Grow Up or Nothing New? Enchanted or Message in a Bottle? Haunted or The Moment I Knew? Last Kiss or 5 min version of All Too Well? Long Live or 22? Ours or Run? If This Was a Movie or Come Back... Be Here? Electric Touch or State of Grace? Castles Crumbling or The Lucky One? Foolish One or IKYWT? Timeless or Starlight? Speak Now or Red?

Speak Now or Red this or that. Mine or Everything Has Changed? Sparks Fly or Treacherous? Back to December or The Very First Night? Speak Now or Stay Stay Stay? Dear John or 10 min version of ATW? Mean or I Bet You Think About Me? The Story of Us or Sad Beautiful Tragic? Never Grow Up or Nothing New? Enchanted or Message in a Bottle? Haunted or The Moment I Knew? Last Kiss or 5 min version of All Too Well? Long Live or 22? Ours or Run? If This Was a Movie or Come Back... Be Here? Electric Touch or State of Grace? Castles Crumbling or The Lucky One? Foolish One or IKYWT? Timeless or Starlight? Speak Now or Red?

[hotvintagepoll]

Giulietta Masina (La Strada, Fortunella, Nights of Cabiria)—To me, she is the DEFINITION of scrungly little guy, always, but especially in La Strada. She is hilarious, adorable and heartbreaking all in one. She was born in a wet cardboard box all alone. She is the slapstick clown woman of my dreams. She gets called an "ugly artichoke" TWICE in that film (not true, very brutal, but quite funny - she's the wife of the director too, might I add). Her face is so brilliant, no one ever emoted like she did. She is Pierrot Hot, simple as. Gif of the exact moment I fell in love with her upon first seeing this film, if you wanna include it: [link]

Alice Pearce (On the Town)— She is timid she is bold she is thirsty she is awkward she is me she is you she is everything. She is Alice Pearce and she was playing Lucy Schmeeler onstage in the Broadway hit ON THE TOWN, and Gene Kelly saw it and immediately knew two things: (1) he wanted to do a movie version and (B) only if Alice Pearce reprised her original role. And both things happened, hallelujah, so now we can enjoy forever her making an allergy-ridden mess of a blind date with Gene Kelly in the most relatable way possible, and if it doesn't scream SCRUNGLE in fifty-foot neon-lit all caps with a brass band fanfare and a side of fireworks, then I'm the New York subway system. *sneezes and laughs maniacally, somehow breaking a table in the process*

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Giulietta:

She's Italian, isn't that enough? No? Fine. She also won two Cannes film awards and is best known for her character in La Strada, in which she played a young woman who fell in love with her captor and witnessed the cruelty of humanity, but still never really lost her child-like spirit.

Masina has a wonderful impish, scrungly quality to her that made her perfect for her iconic Sad Clown type roles. She got tons of comparisons to Chaplin (who despite being handsome, certainly *played* scrungles) and goddamn if they aren’t true. Like yes, she’s obviously beautiful when glammed up, but even in promotional photos, Masina always has this weirdo quality to her. I could see her playing a strange little goblin sidekick to Columbo as he solves a murder in Italy. Even in Nights of Cabiria, where she’s ostensibly playing an object of desire, Masina carries herself with a gait usually reserved for old crones and character actors, (which only makes her yearning for happiness more tragic!).

Alice Pearce:

[menofprogress]

Again, i dont really want jayce and viktor to appear in any future seasons.

A big reason for that is, im gonna be fully honest, that im such a delulu jayvik truther at this point that i KNOW it would negatively impact my viewing experience if they like... arent together in a future show lol. Or, heaven forbid, they only include one of them. Shudders. Canon jayvik is so integral to MY arcane experience that it would honest to god feel like a retcon to me if they werent smooching in the new show.

Another reason is that i dont think any canon show can add anything valuable to their story? They had such a beautiful, tragic, full circle ending that anything added on top would just cheapen it. I really do want to see stories about them post-canon, but, as i said before, i really think those are best explored through fanworks.

Last reason: i love them and theyre my favourites, but i KNOW they would turn into the focal point of any new show that they release and i really want the new stories to be about characters who are either new or not fully explored yet (MEL).

Theres absolutely no signs or reasons that they would be in the noxus show (if we're even getting that), i just wanted to give my 2 cents....

[just-existing-as-you-do-blog]

Okay SO

We no longer in film or television have the Hays Code. There is nothing stopping us from using words like "gay", "trans", or "lesbian" in media. Except that when I was scripting for one of my comics I felt like I couldn't have a charecter explicitly say they were trans. It took me to the third round of edits to edit the line to simply say "Oh, I'm trans."

Why is that?

Historically these things had to be coded into story. They had to be villainized (ie: Dracula, Disney villains, ect). They had to be the barest hint in the breeze (see The Monk.) TV shows and movies of the early 2000s could only use terms like "boyfriend" (to refer to a gay relationship) like once an episode. They couldn't say Trans. They could barely say drag queen. They could, by any legal right, the studios that ran these shows had no reason to stop them from saying queer. But it's like some unspoken rule that you can't use explicit words for explicitly queer charecters.

Is the ambiguity what makes it queer? I would disagree. Does every piece of media need to say "Gay"? No, it's not always necessary and I don't condem any media that doesn't now or in the future. HOWEVER saying the words is important. The amount of times I have heard a show praised for not using the word gay because it "Doesn't fit" in the world of the show, the time period, whatever. Why does the language we use to describe ourselves not fit in a world with magic, or in the past, or in the future?

Why does a novel by a queer author have the slurs written perfectly well but words like "gay" aren't?

Why do I, a nonbinary, demiromantic, lesbian, comic book artist feel hesitant to write the word "trans" on my page?

The queer art of the past is beautiful. It is powerful. It is romantic and tragic and all of those wonderfully things. But traditions of softening our words so that the world will swallow them easier are best left in the past.

This poll is asking about (1) explicitly canonical– not implied or headcanoned, no matter how much of the fandom holds that headcanon– and (2) protagonists, not side/background characters or antagonists.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[sleepless-yura]

Tumblr seems to be very welcoming actually, don’t understand why I abandoned my profile, but now I’m staying

Want to post some more of my work from 2024

This one I painted when the last chapter of “Houseki no Kuni” came out, I had an unfinished fanart for it from 2023 and revised it.

It’s the most tragic, but at the same time the most beautiful story I’ve read. I spilled lots of tears over the Phos, and happy she found peace at last.

I have also unfinished art with Padparadscha, and I hope I will find time to finish it soon

You might notice that the rendering style is different from my current, it’s because I spent the whole of 2024 trying to find the brushes that I will be completely satisfied with, also I had no ability to keep my clip studio subscription and had to use procreate now which also had a great impact in all this.

[venic-bxtch]

·˚ ◌༘͙ Off to the Races! ˊ

•Chapter 1•

WC: 2862

TW: age gap(Rafe is in his 40s, reader is in their early twenties but is 19 or twenty in this chapter), cussing, L-bomb, death, and underage drinking

Some people are more equal than others.

This was just the case for you. You were the average girl from The Cut, impoverished and frugal. But you had it all, good grades, a pretty face that even the Kook girls were jealous of, an amazing singing voice which you displayed at country club talent shows you’d snuck into with Lottie, and you had the best friends ever —Nora and Lottie, Mr. Thorton’s daughters— and on occasion when he chooses to be nice, Kayden Thorton. The Thorton’s were the only Kook family that even let you near their children. You’d met them after you got a scholarship to Outer Banks Academy, a private high school. The academy required any students applying there to take an exam and write an essay on why they wanted to go there. That policy was for non-Kooks only, Kooks got in for free as long as their parents were rich enough. Another thing that boosted your chances was the fact your mother had been a house-keeper around Figure 8; even though she was from the Cut, everyone seemed to love her. You didn’t understand it. The first day at the Academy you were by yourself, but by the second day, the Thorton girls were buzzing around you. Next thing you know, you’re at sleepovers and parties with them, they let you borrow their clothes and they’re taking you on vacations with them. They never seemed to care that you weren’t like them. They’d been with you for the most tragic parts of your life, like when you were in your Junior year of High School and your parents were lost in a tropical storm. They’d gone for one of their monthly boat picnics, then the storm hit. The girls didn’t leave your side as you asked for updates from the Coat Guards. The Thorton’s let you stay for a few weeks after the event.Ever since OBX Academy, you were like their sister. Tonight, you were getting ready for the Outer Banks Annual Gala hosted by Mr. Cameron —who happened to be Mr. Thorton’s best friend— and whatever woman he paraded on his arm that year. Lottie and Nora were already ready since they wanted to get you all ready so you could make “an unforgettable, beautiful imprint on Kook society” as Lottie put it.

She was throwing out a plethora of her designer dresses from her walk-in closet. “Okay, Y/N, this is the night!” she huffed, picking them up from the floor and laying them out on her bed. “I need you to choose what dress you’d like, then we’ll do your makeup and hair!”

Nora interjected, “Don’t forget about shoes!”

“Yes! Shoes!” Lottie ran back into the closet.

You sighed, starstruck. “There’s so many options.” You ran your finger over each dress, studying them. You took a full stop on a pink dress with a floral design on it. You held it up and showed Nora, who was planning your makeup look. “What do you think?”

She looked up, her mouth agape. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She scurried up to you. “This is perfect!! I need to get you my Vivienne Westwood jewelry set to match!!” She hurried out of the room, then peaked back in. “I’ll be right back!” Then she walked back out. You couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. You went behind Lottie’s changing screen and changed into the dress. You the. admired yourself in the mirror. The only person who you wanted to impress was Mr. Cameron, knowing him meant connections. Connections for you to become a successful popstar. Plus, He liked his women in pink.Lottie walked in with the heels and squealed after seeing how you looked in the dress. “Perfect! Yes!” She handed you the shoes and you sat on her vanity chair to put them on. “I assumed right,” she said, smiling big.

You giggled. “Y’all are the best, seriously.” Nora ran back in with the jewelry, which she helped you put on, and then they got started on your hair and makeup. After about 40 minutes, Kayden, who was your “date”, was banging on Lottie’s door.

“Hurry it up! We’ve got 20 minutes to get there! The beer’s probably out!” he yelled.

“Shut up!” you all said in unison.

You walked into Tannyhill with such confidence. You felt all eyes on you with every step you took.

Kayden whispered in your ear, “Oh wow, I never thought anyone’d look at you like this.” He subtly pointed at a few guys who licked their lips and scanned your body over. Kayden chuckled. “I don’t blame ‘em, you look good.” You gasped. “Kayden Tyler Thorton, giving a compliment? Unheard of!” You giggle.

He walked you guys through the house and to the backyard, to a table where the sisters and their dates were.

He smiled. “But seriously, you look really pretty.” He discreetly pulled out a flask from his suit jacket and handed it to you. “It’s the good stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re 21, you don’t need to be sneaking around liquor.”

He nodded. “But you aren’t.”

“So?”

“This is Kook land, Y/N. Particularly a gala-” He was interrupted.

“Well, Well, Well! If it isn’t the little singer!” A deep voice boomed throughout the yard. Everyone around the table looked in the direction of the noise.

Rafe Cameron. Just who you wanted to see tonight. You fixed your hair a bit, and smoothed you dress out, making sure you looked your best for him. Then you paused. Why did you care so much what he thought?

He continued, “Y/N, right?”

You nodded swiftly.

He chuckled. “You and Lottie used to sneak into the talent shows at the country club during y’alls senior year. Y/N, your voice was phenomenal.”

Hearing your name come out of his mouth made you shiver. You found yourself studying him for a few seconds before responding again.

You smiled shyly. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron.” Kayden put his arm around your shoulder, as if to clarify who you were to him.

Rafe sighed and took a sip of his Hennessy. “Y’know, I was hoping the girls would drag you here. The singer we booked got a bad cold.” He paused and took another sip. “I was thinking maybe you could sing.” He smiled. “What’d you say to that?”

Suddenly, everyone at the table trained their eyes on you, waiting for your answer. This it it. An entrance into your big break. Connections. Fame. Money.

“I’ll do it!” You nodded quickly, sneaking the flask back into Kayden’s lap.

Rafe took your hand and walked you to the gazebo. He tapped on the microphone, still holding your hand. “Welcome Everyone to The Annual Outer Banks Charity Gala!” He paused for the loud applause that followed after.

“Thank you to all the sponsors. All that’s donated goes to bettering the community.” He paused again for applause. “As every year, we always have a special entertainer. But unfortunately, our planned entertainer got sick. But thank goodness for the wonderful talent right here!” He motioned his free hand to you. “Introducing, Miss Y/N L/N!”

He leaned in and spoke into your ear, “Come find me after, I wanna talk to you.” He smirked, and stepped off the stage and the applause began.

All you could think of was what Rafe wanted to talk to you about. You looked into the crowd and saw Rafe spectating from the second floor balcony.

The instrumental of ‘Be my Baby’ by the Ronettes began. Luckily, you knew all the words by heart. Your angelic voice floated through the crisp night air.

You ended the song and smiled before walking off the stage, not even taking the time to bask in the applause. You walked into the house and hurried upstairs, confused. You didn’t know what room he was in. You closed your eyes, sighing.

“Right here, Darlin’.” You felt a familiar hand on your back. You whipped your head around to face Rafe.

“You were looking f’me right?” He’d taken his suit jacket off. His dress shirt hugged his body perfectly, outlining his biceps.

You nodded. “You told me to come find you.”

He smirked. “I like people who listen, good girl.” You felt a shiver run down your spine at that. He took your hand. “I wanna talk to you in my office.” You nodded, not saying a word, and followed behind him.

He closed his office door behind you. The room had dark wood shelves filled with books, a drink cart, a few maps on the walls, pictures, and a table with a computer. Rafe pulled out a chair for you before walking to the drink cart.

“What do you drink, Darlin’?” He rolled his sleeves up and grabbed a glass.

“Oh, I don’t drink, still twenty!”

He chuckled. “Don’t lie to me Darlin’. I remember that party. You didn’t care about underage drinking then, huh?”

You looked in your lap, your face burning. “Oh, you remember?”

He poured you a simple Rosé. He handed you the drink before squatting down next to you. He put his hand on your chin, bringing up your face. “There’s nothin’ to be shy about. It’s happened to me before, sweet thing.”

He got back up. “Well, I brought you here cause I wanted to discuss a potential Career. You’ve considered being a singer, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s where I come in. I’ve got connections in the industry. Before the blink of an eye you’d be with the big shots.”

You finally took a sip of the wine, savoring the taste you had missed.

“Y’know, you’re also marketable. Pretty, a real talent, and kind. A real people’s princess.” It sounded like he was daydreaming.

The offer was painfully tempting. You’d be where you’d wanted to be with no struggle. Like Rafe said, you were pretty and had talent. What was stopping you from accepting?

“What’s going on up in that pretty head of yours?” He poured more wine in your cup. You looked down to see that your cup was empty. You had absentmindedly been drinking it while you were thinking.

“I’d hate to be an inconvenience. You’ve got so much going on, Mr. Cameron. You’re a Businessman.”

He shook his head. “I have all the time for you.” He beckoned you to stand up, putting your cup down. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

“You promise?” You absentmindedly gave him puppy eyes that made him melt, not even realizing it.

“I promise.” He held your hands in his, making you gulp in shock and excitement, freezing for a second. “Anywhere you need to be, I’ll be there. Anything you need, I’ll get it. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it!”

He hugged you and spun you around. “You’re not gonna regret this, I’ll make you go far.” He kissed you cheek and put you back down. You gave him a shy smile.

He patted your shoulder. “Let’s get back to the party, I’ll find ya soon to sign paperwork.”

You nodded. “Okay.” He opened the door, letting you go first and following after you. You skipped down the stairs, feeling elated about the offer. You parted ways as you walked back out to the yard and Kayden was the first to greet you.

“Y/N, you did amazing!” He hugged you.

You smiled. “Thank you, I was kinda nervous since I was put on the spot.”

“Well, you kept your cool.”

You both stood in silence for a while.

“Hey, uhm. Do you wanna get outta here? I mean, my sisters are occupied with their boyfriends. We can go to the yacht now.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Shouldn’t we let them know?”

“You can text ‘em later.” He put his hand on your lower back. “It’ll be our own party.” He smiled.

You smiled back. “Finee.”

He drove back to the Thorton Residence and parked on the driveway. He opened the door for you and led you through the back gate to the little dock.

He got onto the yacht and held out a hand for you. “Watch your step, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes and took his hand, stepping into the boat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look like one.” He winked.

You pushed him playfully. “Alright, quit it.”

You sat down on one of the couches in the yacht’s living room. “What’d you wanna say to me?”

He got two Budlights from the fridge, tossed one to you, and opened his own. “I’m just gonna be straight up, Y/N.”

You nodded. “I’m listening…” You took a sip of your beer.

“I know what Mr. Cameron wants.”

Your heart raced. “What?”

“Y/N, I heard the conversation. I just wanna keep you safe. Regardless of Mr. Cameron being my dad’s best friend, he’s bad news. He’s in bad business.” He sat next to you.

“Kayden. I’m responsible for myself.” You scoffed. “And you shouldn’t eavesdrop on people.” You stood up walking towards the door, slamming your beer on the coffee table.

“Y/N! Come on! I’m just trying to keep you safe! People don’t respect Mr. Cameron-“ He sighed. “They’re afraid of what he’ll do to them. He’s not afraid to get blood on his hands. You remember the Officer Peterkin case?”

You nodded. “What does he have to do with it?” You crossed your arms.

“Rafe did it.” He deadpanned.

“How would you know that’s true?” You shook you head, refusing to believe it.

“My Dad’s ex saw it with her own eyes. Sarah Cameron, she saw it.” He walked up to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N. Just believe me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Fine.” He closed his eyes. “Y/N, I fucking love you.”

“I-“ you shrugged his hands off your shoulders. “Kay, what the hell?”

Kayden opened his eyes. “Anytime I think of you. I-,” he paced the room, frantically running his fingers through his hair. “-I can’t think straight anymore. Anytime I hear you voice, whether you’re singing or not, I can’t get you out of my head,” his voice became more erratic. “I see you, and you’re all I can think about. You’re nice. You’re beautiful. You’re everything a guy could ask for.” He stopped, his back facing you.

“Why now?”

“I’ve been fighting this off for years, Y/N! Fuck! Even Lottie and Nora know!” He turned back to you, rolling up his sleeve and pointing at a bracelet on his hand. You’d made it for him during Junior Year when he didn’t have a Valentine that year. He inched closer to you. “You remember this?”

“Yeah…,” you looked at the ground. Of course you remembered. That was the same year you considered having feelings for him, but he was different. He wasn’t as nice as now. He never looked your way then, so you gave it up.

“That’s when it started. I could never look at you the same. You kept me awake at night.”

You shook your head. “No, Kay. No.”

“What?” He paused, looking at you.

“Don’t ruin what we have…” Your throat began tightening and your eyes were burning.

He sighed. “That’s impossible for me!”

“Just stop!” The tears started. “Not now! Why now? I have aspirations! I don’t need love right now!” You huffed, balling your hands into fists at your sides. “You wanna go to Law School. I wanna be a singer. You’ve been a Kook all your life. I’m just a girl from The Cut whose parents died.”

“So? I still love you!”

“I’d be a fucking social climber! I’d be a fucking gold digger!”

“No, you wouldn’t!”

“That’s what they’d all say! Even your own parents!” You opened the door and slammed it behind you, hurrying off the boat. You took your heels off and ran out of the yard.

You collided into what felt like a firm wall, bumping into Rafe.

“Whoa, Y/N. What’s wrong, Darlin’?” Rafe wrapped you in his arms. It was as if he knew what you needed, not even asking you for permission just as if you two were close already.

“Nothing” you sobbed out into his shirt, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Sh, Sh, Sh. ‘S okay. Whatever it is, ‘S okay.” He kissed the top of your head. “You wanna come back to my house?” You nodded into his chest.

“The party’s over. Your friends are on their way home. You sure you don’t wanna stay there?” he asked.

“I can’t go back. I’ll text them tomorrow. I can’t see him.” You wiped your eyes.

“Alright, I understand. Dinners waitin’ for ya”. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his torso. He lifted you like you weighed as much as a swan’s feather. He opened the passenger seat door of his Cadillac. You buckled your seat belt and he began driving back to Tannyhill.

A/N