#shocking discovery of the day

[fancifulrealist]

wdym naozumi hiyama was born on july 21st? URE TELLING ME THAT MAN IS A CANCER LMAOOOOOOOO

[adiraofthetals]

The real vibes are having Canva open on one tab to make mini-comics, Eureka on another tab, and a third tab for my Eureka timeline and fact doc.

Also extra tidbit! Eureka as a show only has 3 canon dates. Over five seasons. We have canon years but not canon dates (Time travel is in the show). The canon dates we have is October 3rd, 2006 + October 3rd, 2010, April 15th, 1947 + April 15th, 2010, and another one that I can't remember right now. The rest are implied or holiday episodes. So that is why I am making a timeline! Mainly for my fic and for me to figure out what is going on.

[suusoh]

Can you lovelies do me a favour and tell me your thoughts on my writing por favor 👉👈 if you choose to comment on its technical aspects and elements i'm swooning HARD <3

[jamesfalt]

I'M THE DMMD BOY

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

"I can excuse heterosexual priests that abuse children, but i draw the line at allowng homosexual men into our seminary because there is too much faggotry already".

- an extract from the Pope's mind.

[foxgloveinspace]

I am….. honestly at a loss for word right now.

Rooster Teeth hasn’t been my space in a few years now, but damn.

Edit:

Everyone taking this opportunity to shit on RT right now: I hope you have the absolute worst day today.

[jewishcissiekj]

IT'S ALL GEORGE LUCAS'S FAULT. HE IS THE REASON FOR THE NIGHTSISTERS RETCON. EVERY PTHER REASONING IS JUST TRYING TO FURTHER EXPLAIN IT OH I'M MADDDDDD

[bmpmp3]

SOME ocs

[monstersflashlight]

Imagine being taken by aliens, or more like you volunteered to go with them. When they asked if someone wanted to join them in their human discovery tests, you said yes. Without knowing what it was about, without thinking about it, even. You just knew they looked interesting and cool, and you needed a change in your life. And maybe... just maybe, you had a bit of a kink with aliens since you first saw one.

What you weren't expecting when you got to the ship was to be asked to be naked all the time. They wanted to see what humans looked like, what their movements and functions were... That seemed easy enough. You just had to walk around and do everything you normally did, but with a couple aliens observing each one of your movements. It should have been weird, but the feeling of being watched, in your naked glory... It turned you on to the point of being constantly wet. You wanted them to do more than watch, to touch you, to explore your human body, to do whatever they wanted with your human flesh... But they didn't. They were too respectful.

So you decided you would go first.

It was a normal day, walking around, helping in the lab, running some blood tests, taking some cells from your skin... Normal testing, but then... They asked about your genitals. And you, perverted little human, told the alien in charge you would show them. You could show them everything you had and probably more. Their fascination with you only grew when you sat on the table and opened your legs, showing them your wet pussy and your tiny excited pearl.

They reached for you shyly, but you were beyond that. You dragged their hand to your wet pussy, slowly telling them everything about your anatomy, and your reactions, and the way your body would excite if they did this or that... Before you realized they had three fingers inside of you and you were coming apart, your juices dripping around their fingers and your screams echoing around the lab. Their shocked face was amusing, but when you looked over their shoulder and saw everyone else equally shocked, you couldn't do anything else but to blush and tell them to get closer... You couldn't stop yourself from offering each one of them an equal experience, could you? It was only fair.

All in the name of science and discovery... obviously.

[monstersholygrail]

You spread yourself as wide as you can, not knowing how broad your Ghost bf is, but wanting to give him enough room as he fucks his cock into your weeping walls.

The days breeze blows in through the open window, providing a bit of relief from the firey heat that runs along your skin as your Ghost bf forces more and more orgasms out of your battered cunt.

You whine, writhing against the bed as his massive dick stretches you out. Your pussy flutters around seemingly nothing, yet that wet squelch echos throughout the room with every rough thrust of your bfs hips.

Hands squeeze tightly at the sheets below you, needing to grab onto something, needing something to ground you as your bf takes you to new dimensions of pleasure. A ragged moan leaves you, hips now jolting with each plunge of his cock.

“Fuck! I-I wanna touch you. Want you so bad— God!” You exclaim, throat raw from your cries of ecstasy. The dull feeling of your hips meeting causes your head to spin.

Reaching out blindly behind you, your hand snags onto the sheer white curtain of your window. Through the fucked out fog within your mind, you slowly form an idea.

Before Ghost bf can react, you throw the curtain outward and as soon as it catches onto an unseen form, you wrap your arms around it and pull him closer. A low moan leaving you as his cock slips deeper inside of you.

A sharp gasp moves past your lips, eyes narrowing, swearing you can also almost see his features through the material. In his shock, Ghost bf stutters in his pace. Feeling your arms around him would’ve been enough to make him blush if he still could.

Spurned on by this new discovery, Ghost bf starts pounding into you, the pleasure of his length rutting its way along your walls now heightened by your touch on his skin and slight ability to see him. But you need more as you feel yourself about to reach your peak.

Pulling him further down, you kiss him without hesitation, your lips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. The thin curtain only adding to the tingles moving down your spine.

Ghost bf’s moan moves through the breeze as always, yet this time you can feel it too. Ghost bf immediately cums again as yours lips brush deeply against each other. You whimper as his spectral-cum shoots inside of you, body twitching before you follow right after, exploding all over his cock and your bed.

You both rock steadily against each other, drawing out your orgasms as you make out passionately. Not wanting to separate for a moment now that you’ve finally gotten to taste each other in this way.

But your bfs ghost cock can’t plug you up. Can’t keep you stuffed full of his cum so that not even a drop drips from your delectable pussy. But with these new findings your bf can’t pass up the opportunity to try. To finally force his cum to stay deep inside you.

More whimpers leave you as your bf pulls away and slips the curtain off his head. They’re quickly interrupted by a choking gasp as you feel him stuff as much of the curtain inside you as the curtain rod will allow. You both look down at your pussy with bated breath. When nothing leaks out, you smile and fall back down on the bed.

“That was… a good idea,” you say through breathless laughter. Not being able to help but grind into the texture of the curtain and stimulating yourself all over again.

Ghost bfs eyes darken as he looks down at you, wondering just what else that curtain can give you both access to. His cock twitches as it starts to come back to life.

[wolviensabes]

Logan and pregnancy.

RQ: 'Logan taking care of his pregnant girlfriend perchance 🤔' -@wheezyth3dem0n

Warnings: F!reader, pregnancy themes, written in HC style.

A/N: I just wrote pregnancy hcs on my main blog so let's keep the theme going. Ignore grammar mistakes, not edited.

Logan knows you're pregnant instantly when the scent of your hormones change.

He looks to you and he isn't sure how to feel just yet. He hadn't planned on getting you pregnant, it wasn't something that he ever thought about. But it was his reality now, and he wasn't too sure on how to feel.

He was just a little wary jumping into something so permeant, considering your lifestyles. The dangers that are involved, all he thought about was how the baby would be in constant danger. Especially knowing it would most likely be mutant.

You were a little hurt, knowing he was a bit standoffish since the discovery, but after some thinking he had come around and explained what he was thinking about, and how he was just worried about its upbringing. It was reassuring that he comforted you in this sense, even if it initially hurt when he backed off.

"M'sorry, this is all...new to me. I never thought I'd be a dad...of all people." Logan grumbled to you, rubbing your back to try to reassure you that he was happy, it was just...a lot for him to take in.

When you begin to show, Logan's presence starts to become more and more. His missions are spread out a bit more, and he spends more time around you. At first, your pregnancy is mostly independent, besides him being around in the evening. You figure it's because he's still processing that you are carrying his kin, but as he starts to come around more often, you're surprised but decide not to mention it.

Logan starts to observe you closer, his hands often find your belly and rub it. He can hear the heartbeat, and he leans closer so he can rest by your belly. Most nights are like this when he's not holding you. He pays close attention to your habits, as well as schedule, memorizing everything you do day to day. When you get a little bigger, he notices daily tasks are a bit more difficult for you.

"Let me help," Logan insisted gruffly, watching you try to pick up clothes for laundry. He worded it more like a demand than offer, he didn't like how you were bending over so often.

"I got it, Logan, really," your stubbornness insisted you could handle it, but he had his doubts. He could see your clear struggle, he could sense you were tired but you were so stubborn.

"Enough." he demanded and gently pulled you away from the laundry, his arms strong around you and easily maneuvering you around. He sat you down and pointed at you. "Stay." he ordered.

Logan brings you food, he doesn't cook a lot but he still tries. He gets help from Jean or Storm. But he's always the one to bring it to you. He displays a lot of instinctual habits by now, especially since you're showing more now. Something inside him just...triggers when he sees your swollen belly. When you walk around the mansion for some exercise, he is right there with you, his eyes scanning the halls and every single person around you.

He growls at people who come close, he is so insanely protective over you now. It shocks you the first time he about lunges at Scott when he asked you how far along you were. "Logan!" you watched your feral boyfriend literally snarling at Scott.

"Get your eye off her, slim." he hissed, his voice was venomous and mean. Scott was just as surprised, even for Logan he was acting much more aggressive. You pulled Logan along, muttering an apology to Scott along the way.

"Logan what the hell! He was just asking how far I was," you muttered, your bristled boyfriend still had an irritated expression. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you. "Easy...it's fine. He's gone, just relax..." you rubbed your hands over his chest, soothing him from his protective mode.

He piles you into the shared room you have, he gets you all settled on the bed and cozy, there are so many blankets and pillows there and they act as excellent support for your large belly. He makes sure you're as comfy as possible, he fusses a lot by grumbling and making sure you have enough blankets. "Keep the baby warm." he grunts at you, covering you with a blanket as if your baby will get cold.

Logan likes to lay close to your belly, he can hear the baby and smell the change you emit because of all the hormones. He hears the baby moving around too, he enjoys listening to his little one in there.

You end up bound to the bed for a while, your ankles were so swollen and you were weak as the pregnancy progressed. You relied on him and he was more than happy to comply. He rubs your swollen ankles and feet, leaning forward and letting his facial hair tickle your belly.

When you feel your hormones flare, you get emotional and worried about labor and birth, all the normal worries for a mother to be. Logan sits with you and lets you vent your worries, but he is also the voice of reason during your emotional episodes. He always reassured you, telling you it would be alright, he was here with you, and he'd never let anything happen to you.

When your little one does arrive, it will be the most protected baby on the planet, not only the baby, but you too. Like hell anyone will get the chance to harm you with Logan by your side.

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[euthymiya]

exes to lovers ; resolved (and poorly written) angst ; breaking up and getting back together ; emotionally stunted modern boyfriend sukuna and his self discovery or something like that idk

“Hey.”

You pause. Mid step, actually. You pause for long enough with your foot halfway over the concrete that you stumble for just a moment and then catch yourself.

“What are you doing here?” You squint.

Sukuna doesn’t like that look on your face. Not the look of anger or even mild distaste—that’s normal. A given, in fact. He has that effect on people and he’s well aware of it, too. It’s the look of shock that really weighs him down, pressing on his lungs enough that he has to cough slightly just to work out that hitch in his throat.

(He thinks, in a moment of stark, cold clarity, that you’re only shocked that he’s trying because he never tries. What does it feel like, he wonders, to feel love that doesn’t even try?

He’s always been privileged enough in this relationship to never have to know.)

He forces himself to grunt out, “Uh…just wanted to talk. ‘N stuff.”

“You wanted to talk,” you repeat. You mouth the words to yourself quietly once more, tasting them on your tongue again to be sure you got them right.

“…Yes….yeah,” he nods. It’s firmer the second time, like he really, really means it. You have to wonder to yourself why he never means it when you need him too.

The break up happens like clockwork, something like two weeks and four days ago (who’s counting, though? Not him). You storm out through salty tears and flailing arms and he walks you out through tired, rolling eyes and an impatiently tapping foot.

Maybe I should just leave, you say.

Then leave, he says back. (He remembers it so clearly, too. His mind is cruel like that—it plays his mistakes so vividly he wonders if some part of him is a masochistic freak).

I’m not coming back this time, Sukuna. I’ve had enough.

Well, that makes two of us! Don’t fuckin’ come crawling back then.

It ends like that. His slammed door. Your muffled sob. His irritated grunt. Your pounding footsteps as you run. His shrug of indifference as he convinces himself he doesn’t care. Your radio silence. His slow, bleeding heart that he staples shut and ignores.

That was two weeks and four days ago. (He’s counting, he realizes. He’s never counted before).

“I’m busy.”

You cut him off from his thoughts with the words plainly. They’re so bland yet blunt, he almost does a double take. It’s just so unlike you, so different and unnatural and weird. Faintly, he’s aware he deserves it. Acutely, he hates that things are changing.

“Yeah?” He huffs, staring at his feet as he shuffles on them. (He feels so weak. So seen. So scrutinized under your gaze. Why is it so hard to just get the words out like he rehearsed in his head?) “It’s just gonna take a moment.”

“And I suppose I owe a moment?” You raise a brow.

“I didn’t say that,” he clicks his teeth.

Agitation is second nature for him. It always has been. It’s easier that way, simpler to just be angry and done with it. People leave him alone more. Things are easier to process. He makes his way through life with downturned lips and an easy glare—things work out well enough that he’s never had to question it.

(Some time ago, you made some passing comment about his childhood developing his coping mechanisms or some bullshit like that. He rolled his eyes and insisted he didn’t need to be psychoanalyzed. Now, he thinks maybe he does need it—some logical explanation as to why he self destructs and destructs and destructs until it’s not self destruction anymore. Somehow, you get caught in the crossfire, too.)

You’re tired. Wary. He slumps his hands into his pocket as he clears his throat and mumbles out, “I miss you.”

It’s progress. That much, even you’re aware of because there’s a moment where you pause and blink. Almost instantly, your eyes soften. Almost as instantly again, you mask it with indifference as best as you can.

He sees through your resolve like it’s made of glass.

“You miss me?” You scoff incredulously. “And what, it took you two weeks to realize that?”

“Two weeks and four days,” he corrects with a scowl.

“Well, that really helps,” you say dryly, giving him a sarcastic smile. “What brought this on?”

“Look,” he pinches his nose, trying to get the words right. He just needs to get something right. For once. When it really matters this time, he’d really just like to get things right. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how being in love and shit works so I’m trying my best here.”

“The first step would be to actually love someone,” you say blandly. “That might help.”

“Just because I’m not good at loving you, doesn’t mean I don’t,” he says back, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.

You shake your head, scoffing as you retort, “No, Sukuna. You can’t be bad at things you don’t even try to do. You can’t mess up and be bad at something you never even did.”

“I never loved you?” He asks incredulously, lips curling in a snarl.

(He’s hurt, you know that. Sukuna is so good at masking hurt with anger and indifference, some part of you always aches for him. For that part of him that learned to do that. That part of him that never knew anything outside of shoving aside his feelings.

It takes you a long time to start aching for yourself. To realize that every time he shoves down his feelings, you shove down yours, too.)

“I didn’t say that,” you shake your head, sighing tiredly.

“You don’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

“You can still love someone without loving them,” you shake your head, and none of it makes any sense. Not to him. Not to that part of him that’s stubborn and hardened and so disturbingly weak.

If he wasn’t so weak, he’d have no problem putting aside his stupid pride and be what you need.

“Now you’re just saying words,” he grumbles.

“I love you right now,” you spit out, “But I’m not loving you. I’m not picking up your socks or texting you good morning or asking about your day or holding your hand or god forbid hugging you once or twice, am I? There’s a difference.”

There is a difference. He knows it, too. Because it’s the difference between you and him.

You pick up his socks when he leaves them lying around. He doesn’t wash the mug you leave in the sink when you’re in a rush. You text him good morning as soon as your alarm goes off. He doesn’t text you when he’s awake so you know he thinks of you as soon as his day starts. You pester him about his nephew and his life. He doesn’t ask how work was or if that friend of yours was still being annoying. You latch onto his hand every chance you get. He doesn’t wrap an arm around your waist and pull you close. You scatter soft pecks along his jaw when it’s clenched from a long day. He doesn’t press a kiss to your cheek when life gets hard.

Yeah, he loves you. But you spend your time loving him.

It’s different. He knows it now. Maybe, if he’d cared enough to learn, he’d know it before. When you needed it. When you needed him.

Some fragile part of him, despite it all, still has hope that you still need him. Want him. Choose him.

Slowly, carefully, he walks up to where you stand. One hand cups your cheek and one hand finds your waist to pull you close. Your breath hitches and you stiffen. You don’t pull away, though—there’s a good sign in that.

“I love you too,” he says quietly. There’s a kiss to your forehead. He looks so unsure of what he’s doing, so unbelievably confused and lost. But not uncomfortable. It’s a start. “I’ll act like it more, okay? So just take back the break up and come back.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot” You ask through watery eyes, rolling them exasperatedly.

He rests his chin over your head, tightening his hold on you. “It’s how it works now. Take it back.”

“Why, so I can be sad over the same things again?”

“No,” he clicks his teeth. His hand cups the back of your head, tilting it to look at him as he grunts out, “I’m gonna fix this. So just take it back.”

He trying. You know it better than he does—and it’s not exactly good, but it’s at least better. Something about it is raw enough that your heart finally feels like it has a place next to his. That it’s not just there, alone and out of place.

You think your friends might call you stupid. Your coworkers might roll their eyes. Everyone might sigh in disbelief.

But you love Sukuna. Can’t help but keep loving him. Can’t help but look into his eyes and see the way he battles with himself not to hide the hope so you know he���s trying.

So, even if you maybe shouldn’t, even if it makes you stupid and weak and helplessly foolish, you whisper, “Fine. I take it back. But next time, I won’t.”

“Oi,” he huffs, “There’s no next time anymore.”

I won’t let there be—you hear it underneath his words. It’s the fine print, you think.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, propping his chin on your head as he holds you close. Closer than he ever has. Closer than he thinks he deserves, but takes anyway. “Cause I’m gonna love the fuck out of you so you quit cryin’ about it. Be ready.”

“Oh, I’m very ready,” you snort. It’s watery, a touch breathless and maybe even naive.

But you love him, and you just want him to love you too.

[ozzgin]

Yakuza reacting to Y/N reading The Way of the House Husband for a starving soul ?😞

Featuring the yakuza men and a manga about a yakuza househusband. Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, violence

Daitou is intrigued by the idea and asks if he can borrow the first few volumes. The next day, he comes to return them. "Didn't like it?", you question him. Quite the opposite. He finished everything, and went to the store to buy all the volumes to date.

He is terribly amused by the plot and likes to imagine it's just how your married life would look like. If only it'd be this peaceful for the both of you, too. He smiles fondly at the thought, squeezing the blood out of his shirt. As he puts his tools away, he realizes a droplet had made it to the cover of the manga he was reading. Damn it! He'd been flipping through the pages while waiting for the latest interrogation to die.

Kazuya may tease you about it. "Oh, is that the kind of stuff you like, (Y/N)? You want a househusband?" He'll pretend to ponder the possibility with a grin.

You like showing him chapters you consider funny, and sometimes ask him if the depictions are realistic. "This actually reminds me of something that happened to one of our underlings", he'll begin. You listen to his story intently, and once he's finished, he'll ruffle your hair, chuckling at your focused expression. "Maybe I should reach out to the mangaka to give them some inspiration, huh?"

Boss finds it funny, and might go through some pages just to have something in common to talk about with you. You wonder if he finds it puerile or inaccurate, but an entirely different discovery is made: he's terrible with household chores.

"Wait, is that how you do the laundry?" he'll ask in genuine shock, staring at the panels.

"You didn't...know?" you retort, raising your eyebrows.

"Wow. I'm learning a lot of things."

He laughs and flips another page. You suddenly realize why he's banned from using a kitchen or why his help is always denied when it comes to menial chores.

[Yandere Yakuza Story]

[abyssruler]

furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

[hexhomos]

little random but i really appreciate your dissections and analysis of Mel mainly bc the fandom either adore her and won't admit she is a flawed character and get over defensive when you call her out, or straight up hate her and make her out to be completely evil.

Mel is written as morally grey for a reason and when ppl try to act like she was morally correct in everything she did, it goes against the whole plot. yes, she regrets most of her actions by the end of the series and is left to deal with her family's leagacy and the weight of her actions, but that doesn't undo anything she did. and her eventually starting to care about Jayce doesn't just cancel out that she manipulated him (you'd think this would be obvious)

what bothers me the most i think is meljay shippers who say Jayce mistreated her and that Mel only ever helped and care about him and aided him in rising to power politically, and how she was so understanding of Jayce's and Viktor's friendship. yes, encouraging methods of political corruption in order to gain more power is so caring and kind of her! ❤️

Mel might've told Jayce to go spend time with Viktor after finding out he was ill, but the one time in the show she interacted with Viktor was... prejudiced to say the least. she never directly spoke to or answered Viktor, and the expression on her face any time she looked over at Viktor was so clearly full of dislike. it shocks me ppl still believe Mel and Viktor could get along and respect one another, especially romantically. no way.

anyways, sorry for the rant. just tired of how many bad takes there are in this fandom and very fond of your account lol

you are right and you SHOULD say it re: that oft repeated argument about her "only wanting what's best for him" bothers me so much. Its just... weirdly patronizing and spousing pro-piltover nationalism every time i see it being brought up. "She's doing what anyone would do/what is best for the city!" IDK MAN I AM NOT ROCKING WITH THAT. Im not an ubercapitalist. I don't think any of that was the good option actually lol. Probably I hate piltover too much to humor these arguments but from day 1 we are shown this is a city of immense class inequality in which the elite few holds all the power and all the profit gains at the cost of everyone else's submission and humanity. (Not for nothing: these are also the classic old guard Noxian tenets of supremacy. That's how they do colonization.)

The interactions Mel has with Jayce for majority of the series, before she watches that bomb come in and has her rapid onset change of heart, are her talking about how investors want his work and how she can use his discovery to advance this city (which is already built on exploitation!) or instigating his rise to power as a new ringleader for the council's rigged mercantile operations, and this is just not good or heroic in any way to me. This isn't love either, it's industrial convenience. The fact that she's conflicted by the end doesn't cancel these actions out! Jayce realizes that he's been used in ways he strongly disagrees with and any the affection in that dynamic vanishes instantly. The time he spends in isolation replaying his mistakes in that cave has an emphasis on mel/heimerdinger's voice on the council too, all of his regrets with blindly following someone else's vision or disappointing an idol he held in high regards.

And Jayce DOES care about the state of the cities, or he did before the writers forgot: He's the one who pleads for Zaun's independence at the end of season 1! He's the one who spent all his life trying to work towards improving the lives of common people, giving them the miracles they've been denied!

Viktor is a fucking nobody. He is extremely worthless in the eyes of the piltovan upper crust, only kept around on the merits working with Jayce have afforded him; and they still don't care. They're probably hoping he dies quicker. We *SEE* him being singled out and alienated during that weapons discussion where Mel is pleading for Jayce to think about "protecting his people" (only piltovans, never, ever zaunites- protecting piltovans against the zaunite menace.) and Viktor is set off at that whole exchange because it doesn't matter how loud he screams, these people can just tune him off and pretend he doesn't exist anyway. It's what they're used to doing. It drives me insane!!!!! His indignation is extremely under-explored and very inline with his act1 speech of feeling like an undesirable presence in piltover and having to push through with the grit of his teeth. It's open faced classism and I still see people pretending it didn't happen. Fandom makes all of these characters FAR less interesting by defanging them. The heart is in the friction and in the ugliness of them fucking up because they have very, very different conceptions of "utopia" - and some of those utopias require the death of the other characters present.

A lot of the Arcane character arcs have to do with realizing the above, and weighing if the sacrifice is worth the risk. Sometimes it turns out their utopias were shit.

[thisantithesis]

thinking of professor lupin teaching a bunch of middle schoolers. he’s the kind of odd teacher that everyone knows about, but every year without fail his students end up loving him because of how fun he makes class. he has a picture of him with another man on his desk, and it’s kind of blurry, not really showing more than a young, smiling Remus holding a person with long, black curly hair, which he never talks about, but one day one of the more outspoken students asks him about it and all he says is “oh, just me and an old friend” and then promptly moves on. of course no one believes him, because although they might be children they still have keen eyes, so they see the small, fond smile on his face when he glances at the picture from time to time. word gets around school, not in a malicious way, just children curious about who odd professor lupin could be so fond about. eventually weeks pass by, to the point that the picture on remus’ desk is almost forgotten, until one day in the middle of class, a strange man knocks on the door. the class erupts into whispers when they see the long curly hair, all holding their breaths to see who exactly this person is, and they’re not disappointed when the man walks up to professor lupin, gives him a kiss on the cheek, and hands him a lunchbox with a small whisper before turning around and leaving. everyone is dead silent as remus puts his lunch away, gaping at the professor over what just happened. eventually one of the kids speak up, asking the question everyone is wondering: “was that the same man from the picture on your desk?” remus seems unfazed by the looks he’s getting from his students, replying with a simple “yes” as a smile slowly shapes his lips. “why did he kiss you on the cheek?” another student asks, to which remus replies “because he’s my husband.” his answer sets off an avalanche of questions, a chorus of “HE’S YOUR HUSBAND!?” echoing through the classroom. the shock of the discovery makes it a highly discussed subject for many weeks to follow, students across the school still in disbelief over it because they can’t believe that the man, remus’ husband, is real. they all talk about how he must be an angel, because no one can be that beautiful. with his curly hair, bright blue eyes and sharp gaze, and it’s all remus can do to relay every single word he hears to sirius when he makes it home in the evening, knowing how much his husband enjoyed flabbergasting the minds of those young children.