#And then the explosion and implied death at the end

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[rabid-invertibrate]

Um actually Vander isn't fully gone (the complete proof) (HEAVY SPOILERS)

spoilers for the entirety of arcane s2 obviously watch it if you haven't or don't if you care about your mental health

Although we see his memories/emotions get acetoned away in s2e7s final scene, and the following battle with his kids has him attacking them pretty rabidly.

But wait...

Tumblr compressed this image to hell, so you'll just have to trust me.

If you look closely as he lunges at Vi and Jinx, a tear appears in his right eye (not previously seen)

We can see it better after Jinx hits him with her rocket.

After Vik gets Jayced we see these tears on full display. The size of the tears is significantly larger, so we can assume they were spilled as Warwick corrupted the girls with void magic, indicating some amount of awareness.

Of course immediately after the screencap above Warwick attacks Vi, Jinx does a side slam and the father daughter duo barely get caught by Vi's gauntlet

Jinx and Vander plummet to their presumed deaths (they are both alive, but for drama’s sake, let's pretend). Vander/Warwick doesn't attack Jinx despite her being entirely in his grasp.

He could shred her right then and there. A mindless beast would, he doesn't.

Vander holds Jinx gently, he doesn't dig into her flesh, he just holds her and lets Jinx cup his face.

We see a flashback of Vander watching the girls sleep. Since he is the only conscious one in this situation this implies is that it is not Vi's or Jinxes memory, only Vanders.

Reader, you might think, well how the hell does he remember anything didn't he get mind wiped an episode ago. To that I respond I don't fucking know, but arcane is VERY intentional with its details and nothing else makes sense.

Jinx escapes, this isn't even subtle. She does so BEFORE the bomb blows. In no universe would Jinx break Warwicks grip, hell, she's toast if any stronger character grabs her (fe. Ambessas bodyguard). Do you know what that implies??

Since Warwick wasn't incapacitated at that point, HE WILLINGLY LET HER GO. He used the last shreds of humanity to give his daughter a second chance at life.....

I AM NOT OK

Below there's the more speculative part I'm not sure of.

Warwick, unlike Jinx, didn't escape into the air ducts. But we've seen him survive significant explosions in the very same episode, moreover he survived Isha blowing him up with the force of 3 magic orbs, and yet he lived.

This can only imply that Warwick/Vander survived. Of course the previously mentioned flashback shows Vander blowing a candle out which can symbolize his life ending, but I'd say it's more likely a subtle way of showing the destruction of their family unit as it was.

I am aware this is complete copium yet maybe Jinx took him wherever the fuck she went on that airship to heal him up while sparing Vi from fighting their unkillable werewolf dad over and over again. Vander is still in there are proved by this long ass post, and I think Jinx knows that. I don't think she could give up on Vander like she wanted Ekko and Vi to give up on her.

□

Cool additional fact pointed out by commenter:

[ink-rose-the-hylian]

Jinx is alive! If you look at the explosion in the hexgate pipes, there is a vertical line flash of shimmer away from the explosion, implying she used her shimmer speed to get away. Then we see a shot of Caitlyn looking at a vent leading out of the hexcore, and she holds part of Jinx’s bomb and smiles. Next, we see an airship flying away, the same airship that Powder said she wanted to fly someday, and “the end” written in Jinx’s style.

Jinx is leaving Piltover to get away from everything. She faked her death. She’s “breaking the cycle” by “walking away” as the discussion with Silco implied.

However. I completely agree with you. I’m glad she’s alive but I really don’t care for the lack of resolution in this ending. 5 champions are implied dead with no real satisfying payoff. What’s up with Warwick? Where’s his full wolf design? Hiemerdinger? Yordles are immortal so he’ll respawn in Bandle City but it’s still unsatisfying what happens to him, specially for people who don’t know the lore. And wtf happened with Vic and Jayce?? Are they dissolved? Teleported? In the astral plane? What about poor Mel? She’s completely alone now, everyone she loved is gone.

But Jinx, even being alive, rings hollow because what we all wanted from this show about the two sisters is.. resolution for the two sisters. They don’t need to be “worlds apart” with Vi thinking she’s dead, let’s have some true forgiveness and resolution. Ekko did all that for her and thinks she’s dead! That he failed to save her! That is horrible. It’s another reason the Isha sacrifice felt hollow. Like, it wasn’t even needed and it makes Jinx think these “sacrifices” were a good way to start anew/atone.

Also Vi, even though this whole show is about love and listening to one another, didn’t listen to Jinx when it mattered most, making Jinx save her.

Now I know that they are making other shows in the same universe and set in other countries, but I would really like to see resolutions/not vague endings for such important legacy characters in ARCANE, THEIR SHOW. Not some other project that will take another 3-6 years to complete.

Geez.

Cannot STAND narratives which imply that if you've done bad things the only thing you can do to truly atone is sacrifice your life and die!!! What happened to dying is easy living is harder? What happened to forgiveness and redemption??? What happened to putting in the work to undo what has been done????? I'll kill someone.

[piesafterdark]

Predictions for Arcane as a franchise + my thoughts! Season 2, Act 3 spoilers ahead.

jayce, viktor, and jinx can't be dead. Let me tell you why.

no. 1, Arcane's been pretty explicit with deaths. Silco, Vi and Cait's moms, Benzo, the sergeant from season 1 act 1 etc etc we've all seen dead bodies, time pass without them coming back, or character arcs shifting to accommodate deaths (lsha's and Silco's death shaping Jinx). In season 2, Maddie's, Ambessa's, and random extra's deaths were all shown on screen. Therefore, if we don't see a body, the body's still moving.

no. 2, while this is Arcane's last season, there's going to be more Runeterra shows. Of course we don't know what's going to happen over there, but I don't think Riot and Fortische are just going to throw Arcane's characters away unless they do. "the arcane is waking up" and all that jazz. Seems to me like the arcane isn't back to sleep, and who has experience with the arcane. Oh, right, all these cool guys. Leading to points 3 and 4.

no. 3, Jayce's crystal, given to him by the mage (Viktor) in season 1, was used for teleportation, if I remember correctly. Rather than dying/getting sucked into the crystal, they've been teleported somewhere else and will be used to shift the focus onto that location. This fits. Moving to a completely different location would disrupt the glorious evolution. Plus we didn't see their bodies so.

EDIT: apparently it was the rune of insight or smth. my bad. Still, theres a chance? Please Riot, pleaaseee

from arcanegifs

no. 4, Jinx my beloved. There was a line of shimmer leaving the explosion at the bottom of the pit, and the epilogue of Cait looking at the pit and seeing air ducts hints that Jinx/Powder escaped. I'm pretty sure the Zepplin shown at the end was to imply she left Piltover and Zaun, finally becoming her own person. Throughout the show, her identity was determined by her relationships (hair mirroring Silco's, smoke tattoos for Vi, mental illness from causing her brothers' deaths), and with hallucination Silco suggesting the best way to change the Cycle of Killing is leaving, that's what she chose to do. Additionally, her handwriting for the "the end" at the finale suggests that she was there to write it. She's alive guys trust me. Her change of scenery can be used to shift the focus to a different location.

My personal Thoughts:

on no. 4, I would hate it if they decided to kill Jinx after she found herself. It's overused. Seeing Jinx/Powder finally become herself without Silco's, Zaun's, and her sister's baggage in a new place would be super interesting. As someone who doesn't play League, I've heard there's some blond character she's shipped with from a different country/city? Foreshadowing perhaps? Plus it'd be so in character for her to start a new series with a chaotic "I bet you're wondering what I did after I faked my death."

Cait and Vi will probably remain in Piltover/Zaun doing reform (the show's whole point). The reason why Vi didn't look super duper sad is probably because she's going through shock or because Cait reassured her that Jinx/Powder isn't dead (air ducts). Ekko's probably going to do reform w/ the power couple because that's his motivation.

The sex scene's context is a bit odd, but Jinx literally gave Vi permission to be with Cait so... ? When life gives you lemons, give your gf head i guess. Wish Cait did apology head though, she really hurt Vi... But then again, Vi probably wanted to get lost in the sauce and forget about everything around her, hence the "I don't fucking care" comment.

Jayce was right, Viktor was blinded. Love that they're in love.

It's so interesting to see Sevika going from backing revolutionaries (Silco and Vander) to becoming a revolutionary herself and actually getting a seat on the council!! She went from kingmaker to king.

Thought season 2 was kinda rushed? Idk wished we had hour long episodes just to flesh things out.... still a great season.

It's not over. With the success this show's been giving Netflix, there's at least twenty more on the horizon. God bless Riot and Fortische.

going to go cry now.

[silverydragonheart-blog]

I am so distraught theres no tim drake running away fics i can find like is it SO MUCH to ask for???? All i want is tim drake getting the fuck out or gotham on a wim and shit it could be him getting attacked by red hood! Or getting replaced!! I just want him to grab his photos and fucking run

[spacedlexi]

thinking about clem vi and minnie

[inbarfink]

Ace Attorney Lawyers Ranked By Their Abilities in Physical Combat

Winston Payne: I’m pretty sure the average Tumblr user could kill Winston Payne with their bare hands.

Sebastian DeBeste: Look, the only reason why this wimp ranks higher than Payne is because he is so sopping wet pathetic that there is a significant chance that his opponent will just start feeling bad about kicking his ass and punch themself in the face instead.

Klavier Gavin: While Klavier is a physically fit young man who is known to keep his cool in extreme situations, he is also a giant law-abiding nerd who has never thrown a punch at anything that isn’t an inanimate wall. It probably wouldn’t be that hard to shove this guy into a locker.

Miles Edgeworth: Look, Miles is an even bigger locker-worthy nerd than Klavier. Anytime anyone, friend or foe, suggests a violent solution he just gets freaked out and begs for them to follow procedures. And no AA Lawyer is more easily thrown off his rhythm and startled than he is. He might have some bulk under the magenta and frills (or at least some impressive leg muscles from climbing 12 flights of stairs every day for like seven years), but he has no idea or will to actually use them in a fight. However, he did try and stare down a man who was aiming a gun at his back that one time and managed to keep his cool throughout all of this.

So like, he’d probably talk a big game and try and intimidate his opponent into not engaging - but if that won’t work he will get his ass thoroughly whooped. And then he’d try to sue them, which is what his threats were about all along.

Apollo Justice: Actually a considerable step up in power-levels from the previous ones. Apollo might be smol, but he is Done With Your Shit and this gives him Strength. Not to mention that one time he successfully tanked an explosion. His famous Chords of Steel can also serve as a tactic to confuse or weaken his enemies.

Kristoph Gavin: Although he is primarily known for his schemes and poisoning, he did kill a man with a single blow to the forehead with a bottle, showing he does have some decent upper-body-strength to use in a fight. And being known as ‘the Coolest Defense in the West’ means he can keep his calm even during hectic combat. But he’s also very pretentious and his constant pontifications might just be the perfect opportunity for someone to smash his face in.

Blaise Debeste: Okay, look, is Blaise a scary tall man who successfully stabbed a woman to death with a candelabra and constantly carries around a deceptively-powerful lighter and has like, implied, motorcycle gang background? Yes. But also I think anyone who encounters Blaise Debeste face-to-face is overcome with such bloodlust rage that it might give them an edge in the battle against him.

Mia Fey: Mia ranks fairly high on the Battle Scale considering the one time she was faced with a violent altercation she just tried to escape and it… didn’t end well.

However, in the two times we get to play as her it’s also clear that she wants to Punch. All of the Things. While Apollo is fueled by being Done With Your Shit, Mia has righteous anger - so I think in a situation where she is actually prepared to do battle she would be able to throw a few decent punches. Also assuming we are talking about Mia while she was still alive, there’s also her Spirit Channeling powers to account for. While we’ve never seen them on screen, Maya told us they are “first rate” and I believe her. Maybe she could channel the spirit of a great warrior to try and get an edge in combat?

Manfred Von Karma: While he also has the same Bloodlust-Inducing-Factor as Blaise, and he does seem less physically fit even though they’re about the same age - I feel like his cane could do more serious damage than Blaise’s lighter. And he has that dangerous fucking Stun Gun on him to easily neutralize opponents. Plus, he did tank that one gunshot he got in the shoulder. Manfred’s opponents might have Rage on their side, but also you cannot underestimate the power of his sheer Spite.

Godot: On one hand, Godot has shown an ability to keep his cool in very dangerous situations. He can smash a coffee cup with his bare hands and barely react, showing that he’s decently strong and resilient to pain. And he is yet another proud (?) member of the exclusive “Lawyers With a Body Count Club”. And while stabbing a waifish, 155cm college student (and part time-poisoner) in the back isn’t exactly the most epic demonstration of battle prowess in the history of Anime Lawyers - he did it (and moved the body and doctored the crime scene and prosecuted in court) while tanking a knife slash in his face, showing his pain-resilience once again, as well as general tenacity that would also be useful in battle. Also, he can summon an infinite amount of hot coffee mugs at will, which must make for a decent improvised long-ranged attack.

On the other hand, his health is also heavily implied to be deteriorating and that he’s basically dying over the course of the final case… possibly due to all of that physical exhaustion. If a fight goes longer than just a single backstab, I feel like these health complications are gonna harm Godot’s performance.

Phoenix Wright: Okay, so this is actually the hardest one to place. I keep flip-flopping on where to put him, especially compared to Mia, and Apollo. Because unlike most other lawyers currently ranked below him, he is a disaster when it comes to being on the offensive; Phoenix Wright is a total wimp who has never returned a punch in his life. However, he is also almost supernaturally durable, unbelievably lucky and deceptively strong. If a solid iron door, a raging freezing river and a speeding car didn’t manage to take him down, what chance does a fellow human, even a more combat-capable one, have???

Calisto Yew: She’s not even a real-lawyer! She’s a Secret Spy who successfully pretended to be a Lawyer for years! She’s got a gun, she’s got a knife, she's got crossbow bolt as hair decorations, she probably has some combat training from her time in Interpol… While she’s clearly more specialized for espionage and infiltration, and not as physically strong as Lang, she’s still got an impressive advantage over most of the regular people who went to Law School. In fact, her skill with barefaced lies and manipulation might also be a skill she could use in a fight to catch her opponent off-guard.

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: Nahyuta is, in fact, one of the few AA Lawyers to canonically participate in what I would unambiguously call a ‘fight’ (rather than a ‘murder’), when he single-handedly disarmed and apprehended a Defiant Dragon rebel in the sorta-canon ‘Spirit of Justice’ Prologue video.

Like, that rebel guy probably isn't the world's greatest warrior, but the Defiant Dragons have been around for enough time to give their members at least some basic self-defense/combat skills… more so than the average lawyer on this list at minimum. And Nahyuta very easily crab-stomped him. Showing that he has strong nerves, some amazing reflexes and the martial art skills to knock a man unconscious with a single blow. Not to mention the seemingly supernatural skills with his prayer beads, which he already uses as a sort of ‘weapon’ in court. Also that... thing he did to Apollo's bracelet that one time.

Nahyuta might be just straight-up Magic, that's pretty OP.

Franziska von Karma: Look, Franziska might not have official martial-arts, guns, or Literal Magic Powers - but what she does have is sheer determination and force or personality. Franziska von Karma has been intimidating grown men since she was a 149 cm tall 13 years old with a riding crop (I mean, one of those men was Miles, but still…..). She had once whipped Phoenix Wright into unconsciousness in a temper tantrum, and like I already mentioned that taking him down is quite a feat. She is also very resilient - while the shot to her shoulders was designed not to kill her, being up back on her feet doing investigation stuff a day after is still very impressive! Her whip might not be as dangerous as a sword or a gun, but she will not relent until she defeats you.

Simon Blackquill: Let me just give it to you straight, Simon Blackquill is 1.88 meter tall, he owns a katana and a trained attack-hawk (giving him both short range and far range advantage), he can break solid metal chains with his bare hands, he can cut your hair halfway across the room with a feather. Not to mention how he could probably use the whole psychological manipulation in battle to intimidate or goad his enemy. There’s not even a lot of funny or interesting points to bring up, he is literally an action movie character who just happens to also be a lawyer.

Athena Cykes: Athena Cykes is the strongest lawyer. One day, she’ll be stronger than whales. I believe in her.

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝.

☀︎︎ || With a long awaited reunion, Jayce finally gathers the courage to do something he should’ve done a long time ago.

C/W || nothing nsfw honestly, just lots of fluff, Reader’s gender isn’t implied here, appearance isn’t descriptive, Jayce is just awkward with feelings.

Word Count || 3,433

Note || I feel I should clarify that my whole driving force behind this was inspired by all the jayvik scenes (however you view them lmao), and the song ‘young and beautiful’. Some other things inspired this but mainly these things.

This is also a first I’m posting a fic about a character from Arcane, or arcane at all honestly so some honest criticism for my writing would be appreciated.

That scream repeated over and over in his mind, again and of course – again. Jayce was becoming tired, worn down. His heart began dulling out the environment around him, causing him to look forward, no baggage weighing in on the astral shoulders of his that bore a weight so greatly, for the reality of the supposed great arcane. He was trapped in it for so long. 

Red, all he saw was red painting the calluses of his hands. His hands grabbing desperately onto yours, feeling the warmth, the sensation of that beloved warmth leaving your body. 

(All he could do was choke out a cry. Silent in the loudness of the world crashing down around the being of you both.)

Another fabric of time, which would have also been his reality. In which you were enemies, Jayce, he wasn’t sure what side to be on. All he knew was to destroy what was necessary, you otherwise wanted to destroy him. Jayce tried to converse with you, yet his growls fell on deaf ears. He was trying to end things, he really was. His want clashed with yours, the need to end things. Jayce just wanted you to not be in pain anymore, and that look in your eyes, the tense stance, pained breathing punishing sharply in the cavity of your chest – that confirmed it for him. 

But what was he becoming this time? (Man, or beast?) 

He couldn’t tell. 

A remaining constant rang true for him each and every time he was chained down in each memory, stone marble cracking in the face of your memory, he was almost beginning to forget what your face looked like. But that scream, it never left him. Your scream was the constant variable of which he experienced each and every time, and you almost always looked at him in fear.

Jayce hated that, he really hated that so much. Looked upon in unease, the sweat on your palms accumulating, and the trepidation rapidly beating in the confines of your ribcage; that heart of yours about ready to jump out, easily because of him. 

On that cobblestone floor, cracked by death and echoes of explosion. 

He couldn’t tell if you loved him–maybe as a friend–yet either way it was, once. He probably missed it, only looking past you right at others, Viktor, Mel, or even the face of the Hextech Gemstone. The way you were always so kind to greet him even if he didn’t remain a figure of importance in certain situations, you had always made an effort to include not only him, everyone else as well. You brought people together in a way he seldom noticed. But now that he was trapped in the belly of the beast, he thought about it more often. 

Jayce truly realized that you had. (But did he ever deserve it? He was beastly toward you often.) 

One step after the other, and he realized harshly–being brought back to the now. Something, or someone was far ahead of him. In this void of darkness, and even the occasion of the beautifully loud rainbow swarms, he had never come across someone real. So he began to rush forward, keeping a vice grip on his hammer. 

He choked out a shout, feeling his esophagus sore and weak. His body creaked, bones clicking against each other softly, and every which way he twisted himself — he could hear it. Jayce could clearly feel the way his joints had sanded, slowly creaking under the weight of herculean effort to press forward. 

The dull ache pressed in his chest, but he couldn't help the youth that springed him forward for a momentary transition in time.

A voice echoes, so strikingly similar to someone he holds dear. And he wonders if that was really the real deal, but he was easily proven wrong once the being speaks; “You must not fail, Jayce.”

Not Fail.

Must, not fail. The accursed organism had repeatedly told him that same mantra over and over again. He was pushed through the time lapse, and forced to relive the gruesome experience of being a human. The poor decisions made, the hope (and the false).

It was easily his driving force as he made it through the dark glowering of magicks that cursed his downfall, and the others around him. Jayce tried not to open his eyes as the sharp pains followed his limbs, intakes of breathing that punished him with every step he took. Yet it was sudden as he felt a ghostly touch impressed into his upper back, causing him to twitch, swerving his head nearly off the hinges as he looked to see whom the cause of the touch was. The crinkles beneath his eyes expressed clear frustration, as he was tricked once again. Jayce cursed himself mentally as he trudged forward, the onslaught of surprises resuming once again when the light gleamed – jarring as can be for a low fluorescent tone. He recapitulated his position, standing firmly into whatever ground there was irrespective of the pain. Jayce’s hands were worn with exhaustion, each and every ache screaming at him to fall down, rest. 

Imaginably he could, but he dared not too. (He couldn’t rest, not again.)

This was his last resort, he was not capable of letting it happen again. He needed to make sure nobody died, he needed to make sure it wasn’t out of bleeding, feeling cold. He knew it far too well, and he was going to make sure he was doing everything in his power to–

Oh wow. 

It was painful–painless–for a few moments, leaving him disoriented as he grunted, trying to accumulate to his new surroundings. He wondered where he was now, what would it show him next?

He blinks for a few moments, struggling to stand up as he supports his weight on the hammer. Inevitably cracking his neck, easing himself of the sore pains that riddled his neck and even the rest of his body. His leg was where it had really hurt for the matter, but no reason to worry, he was ready for whatever was gonna come next. 

“Jayce?” A gasp escapes his throat, ebbing it raw, his eyes blurring into clearness for the first time. He furrows his brow, attempting to get a clearer look at the source. The man was worn from battle–he tenses, fully rising to his height. 

(He heard a voice, and it was yours. Not an illusion, not a past memory. It was really that same cadence that not even the arcane could replicate.)

His throat bobs, churning with a burn that reminds him that he really is here. Where he had first disappeared in the first place, the accursed base of the HexGate facility. Jayce really, really had begun to hate HexTech. His eyes briefly scorn the intricate designs, almost weaved like the stories in tapestries. The stories were wrong, they always had been wrong. He should’ve listened to Heimerdinger, he should've listened to the professor. 

What was he doing?

Oh god.

“Is that you?” His eyes flicker back over to the one other person in the room, right in front of him. Jayce attempted—couldn’t—to look you in the eye, it was a difficult thing to do. His brows furrowed, a headache came to the forefront of his pain, and he closed his eyes. He heaved a heavy sigh–he was ashamed. 

Killing came so easy to him now, so why is this now any different?

Deciding to test the waters he quietly muttered your name, followed by a gentle greeting; “Hey.” Jayce murmurs, his bottom lip quivered for a moment.

You could see how cracked his lips were, and it made you almost worry for him. Of course, you should be. But you didn’t want to rush him, the way he had carried himself, you could see he was still far too tense and on edge. Both of you were thinking the same, worried about the other, still wanting to embrace each other–even so used to the touches of danger. It was in consideration, that made it all too painfully slow in this reunion. You nodded your head, taking a step forward. 

“You’ve been gone quite awhile,” You verbalized with a tilt of your head, gesturing about the length of his absence. “I was… worried.” He gave pause to your comment, a slight widening of his eyes as he lifted his gaze, albeit shortly enough to reach your torso. You looked different from what he remembered, just right there was enough to make him realize the passage of time. 

“How–I, how long have I been gone?” He internally winced at the way his voice sounded, his throat felt so sore. Jayce wasn’t sure himself, he felt it best to ask you. He understood that time had passed extensively, not how much for the matter, he felt it passing entirely differently during his time within the core of the arcane–whatever its physical being is. Something entirely reminiscent of a curse. He despised it so much for leaving you and the others without warning. But yet again, he hadn’t taken a step back to think about his words and actions, and how easily he could hurt others. Jayce knew better than that now, atleast. 

He could almost feel the hesitation radiating off of you, as if answering would be the end of all things. Jayce heaved a mournful breath, letting his eyes close. 

(Maybe it would, he wasn’t sure. Jayce didn’t want you to be afraid of him, is all.)

The room was cold, cold as the winter storm of the day he crossed paths with the arcane, he had almost forgotten that. Yet it was useless when he felt the warmth of something inexplicable touching his cheek, leathery he must feel. Jayce felt the way his skin hardened, the way his body tenses when he’s touched. But–that wasn’t the case here, no. 

A small gentle pad of the thumb swiped over the area, leaving him to open his eyes – inextricably locking gazes. Jayce was left surprised, almost recoiling for a split-moment. You kept a firm hold, your gaze all but gentle. Which was the last thing he expected, he searched any inch of your expression, and not once did your eyes falter in that interval of time. Jayce was tempted to stray away from your touch, every nerve in his being telling him to do so. However, it was something else that let him stay in the same position. That same stance, and he was unable to run away from it. 

Jayce grimaced, holding his head. Another episode, what he’s seen. Far too much of it, you concluded. 

He could see flashes of something unholy, far too close to the sun, or perhaps far too close to the moon. Jayce could see the debilitating deflections of creatures, something supernatural, the coarseness of rainbows. It was the way his lungs squeezed upon itself, twisting in a macabre manner of gestations that left him breathless for a meager few moments. You simply held him through it, and gently murmured, drawing his attention to you once more. Whatever he saw, it was the countless hours of death, it was inescapable. Blurry had it appeared to be once over, as he never wanted to recall the things he experienced. The last thing that had never been blocked out were those memories of you, dying over and over again, especially by his hands. It was in repetition that he blacked out so many times over, constantly finding himself in new arenas. Having to raise his hammer against someone else, seeing their blood splatter against the coldstone of the ground. Jayce wasn’t sure how he hadn’t–broken. 

It always felt far too real to him, he was sure it had. The heavy heart that corones his emotions, the way he acts. Probably in that alone that he had caused the deaths of so many innocents so many times, even for a different fabric in the space-fold of time, it still happened. Jayce didn’t want that to happen to you–not again–to anyone else. 

With the impossible decisions, and the road he had walked so far. There was nothing short of a future, or a dream for him anymore. He had to fight, even if that meant physically. Jayce knew there was something different in this life of his, he just wished this wasn’t the truth of it. He grieved it even, but he couldn’t truly be given time to process that. Life does not slow down for anyone, not even you, and not even him. One is only human after all, and you sure as hell make the most of it, the best you can, even if people may hate you for the smallest thing. It is innately the most human thing that truly makes each and every person kind, despite their supposed repugnant nature that makes mankind so infamous. 

“Jayce,” You murmured, a tone so soft, he didn’t deserve it. “Can you please look at me?” Almost to your whims, he felt so commanded. A rarity in such matters, that he didn’t mind it. Such a simple action, and it seemed so difficult though. But he tried, and succeeded. 

For the second time now, he locked eyes with you. His gaze was colored by bashfulness, leaving you to laugh. A tender touch, revering the inches of encroaching warmth that crawled back into his skin bit by bit. You breathed a puff of air, noting the cold atmosphere. 

‘He must’ve been cold before he came back out.’ You scrutinized the details for a moment, and considered how much time he spent. How long he went without proper warmth, the lack of temperature. Whatever or whomever it may have been that was his captor, you were glad he was finally freed for good, hopefully. You just were relieved that you could finally just see him, and know that he’s truly there (instead of just a delusion). Even if he appeared differently, he was still here. 

“I really did miss you.” You mentioned, seeing the flicker of surprise, surmising the life that brought back the color in his eyes. Less dull now, and far more colorful within the beautiful amber–almost had you wishing you could stay trapped in it forever. Not forever maybe, that would mean you’d never be face to face with him directly, like now, where you stood stronger than ever. As you were more than willing to be a pillar of support for the broken man, who you guess appeared to see so much, it nearly broke his mind. For the brief moment of pause, you could see his jaw tighten, as if he was contemplating something, but wary to air out the thought. 

He held the expectation that you would’ve been more fearful of him. Or at the very least angry, god knows he fully deserves that. 

Your brows tighten, almost wincing at the knot in your forehead. You’ve done that especially way too much lately, even since Jayce’s sudden disappearance. It was a question of your own, nothing short of anger, all it really was confusion. 

Jayce seemed to notice this, drawing you out of your short-lived predicament; “You… alright?” He muttered, somewhat hesitant to draw his hand over yours. He didn’t see himself deserving enough for that yet, not until he knew that it was by all rights okay with you. Only then you nodded to reassure him, biting the inside of your cheek as the moment passed. 

Finally garnering the courage to the breadth of your chest, “How… or why have you been gone so long?” Jayce simply looks at you with a half-unreadable expression, as if he had expected this question. One way or another, he was always going to be faced with such a question. After all, he had been trapped inside the palace of the arcane, a presumably long life-time of experiences; enough to age him noticeably. 

“I'll explain it,” He paused, a waver in his tone. “In time.” Jayce’s reluctance was more than easy to notice, so you nodded, not fully satisfied with the answer. But you had to wait for answers another time, there were reasonably far more important things to deal with right now. Whatever that may be considered. 

So you opted for a hug (entirely and completely out of the blue).

The affectionate gesture, which could mean many things, surprised him. He didn’t count for this happening—it made his knees buckle, the weight hounding you to fall with him. Even with the vice grip he previously held on the handle. He let go of his hammer, wanting and using both arms to just utterly hug you back with the whole of his heart, and he was fulfilled. Nose buried in the crook of your neck, it was filled with your scent. Your own hold on him didn’t vacillate at all–which in retrospect–it gave way to a level of solace he never felt before. 

He tightened his hold on you, a silent way of giving thanks, if nothing else. You were glad, happy even that he accepted your inhibited sudden gesture. 

You leaned back, slowly but surely, just to check that Jayce wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a failure however [as good as you were at reading expressions], there was naught a hint of it at all. You tilted your head, eliciting a soft laugh from the man. 

‘Mission successful!’ 

His soft laughter elicited a pavlovian response from you, leaving you to move your hands, cradling his face with both hands once again. Anything and everything seemed to fall short around you, for the long while you began to realize, lord you were far from attached to the thought however. His brows furrowed with a small grin, still finding it somewhat amusing with your subtle acts of nature. In spite of what preceded, the decedent time of passing made him begin to freeze. 

Color began creeping up against the patches of his skin that crawled from the beginning of his mandible, nape of the neck, and now up to the cheek bones. Expression faltering. (“Hey, uh…”) He tried to muster, but despite that, it fell on deaf ears. Your gaze made him hot, and he was always on the fence on whether or not how he should react. Jayce wasn’t sure how to handle it really, cause you look at him as if he was all that was there in the room. The spark of motivation behind your learning, or even the nights and transitions of time where you listen to him talk about what makes him so inspired. Of course, he always made the effort to do the same, but it had made him wonder if you felt so similarly. 

Yet, when he allowed his overthinking to fester, never bringing it up, he was afraid and just simply decided to not ask about it at all. Jayce was always a bit afraid about these things, but with what he's been through, he fears this may be the first and last time he’s allowed to see you. 

With that being his driving force, how his heart raced, it gave him a burst of confidence. Jayce lowered his left hand to your hip, the other to holding your face. His eyes were soft, brows raised as if he were asking. It was first and foremost, but his heart continued to beat right up against the cavity of his chest. 

There was a flicker of astonishment gleaming in your eyes, but it slowly disappeared, as if you ascertained what he was wanting, and frankly you found it sweet that he had asked for your permission. Nonetheless, you were more than delighted to oblige with his request. 

Warmth blossomed exuberant in his chest, as if fireworks were being set off. The sensation it ignited in him was soulful. A first tentative brush, then a second time, more sure than ever now. Jayce’s breathing almost labored when he pulled back, and he could figure the same for you. In a way, it was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders by such a simple act of love. Even with the moments passing, the two of you leaned against one another, relishing in the feeling that heightened your tension. 

Though it did wear off quickly enough. 

Jayce watched with patience of a thousand men as you leaned back, re-adjusting yourself as you spoke. And wasn’t it ever the truth. 

“If you’ve done that earlier, then i probably wouldn’t even be here right now.” You remarked, causing him to laugh quietly. 

(No shit.)

He should’ve done this sooner.

[thedorkurge]

Just like... Gale/Durge/Gortash as the next dead three

Gortash is well on his way to usurping Bane, literally all he has to do is turn the worship for the Absolute towards himself and not his god. Bam, new God of tyranny.

Durge who rejects Bhaal but is still a bad guy, still made of divine flesh, brought back by Jergal himself... He would have no problem ascending, and from there it's a small step to overthrowing Bhaal who is left with no followers and no Chosen. Similarly Myrkul's domain becomes obsolete in a world where death does not let go. He will be death in all its forms, the one that ushers souls into the beyond with the blade of a knife, and keeps them there.

And finally Gale, who has a (very valid) grudge against Mystra and a bomb in his chest. The Karsite weave is implied to be incredibly destructive, consuming energy to feed itself and unleashing terrifying explosive power. So imagine that he doesn't use the crown to suppress that. Instead he embraces it, he becomes entropy, the destruction of matter itself, the antithesis of the weave. The edge of the world that creeps closer with every day, only kept at bay by offerings from a terrified people.

Together they'd be the Tyrant that subjegates the living, The Master of Death itself, and The End of all things.

[sugar-grigri]

CSM 172 : Do you hear Chainsaw Man? Because I do !

The more 'silent' a chapter is in terms of dialogue, the more it speaks to you. Especially when the chapter itself talks about sound. And that's the first thing Pochita will tell you: "pay more attention to the noise I make than to my words". Don't worry, everything will become crystal clear, but you have to take it one step at a time. The theme of this chapter is repeated three times. And this theme is not about the ears themselves. It's louder, it's more important, and it's about the power of CSM itself. To understand it, you take it one step at a time, savour every page and look at the beginning of this chapter.

Only the possessed woman with half a canine head manages to avoid Chainsaw Man's attack (OK, she ends up decapitated, but she managed to avoid it). It's not at all insignificant that it's a canine that manages to avoid Chainsaw Man. Knowing how to avoid when the rest of the elite don't even bat an eyelid when CSM comes at them shows you more than you think.

For a start, the animal aspect is reminiscent of several senses: smell, obviously, and the sixth sense, and these two senses should be placed on the same level of importance. The sixth sense is brought to mind by the number 6, which is present several times, just as the sense of smell is used to point out the demons who don't recognise faces but only smells: the knights of the apocalypse.

But let's not go too far, if we want to remain general, what this first part of the chapter evokes are the senses. If we try to divide the chapter into three parts, we end up with a dog that manages to avoid ; the explosion and disappearance of the ears.

Which gives us :

First part = senses

Second part = conflict

Third part = disappearance.

These different elements obviously need to be interpreted. We did it for the first part, let's do it for the other 2.

2. I mentioned smell, Fujimoto represents a spiral, and Yoru appears at the end ready to fight. So we need to associate the notion of conflict with the Knights of the Apocalypse who fought against CSM.

3. Disappearance, the ears disappear. Why do they disappear? Obviously because of Chainsaw Man's power.

So we end up with these three intrinsically linked sub-themes:

Senses

Knights of the apocalypse

Power of Chainsaw Man.

So we continue to unravel the threads. If the number 6 is mentioned, it's to encourage you to reread two chapters, chapter 6 and chapter 84, in which Makima talks about the sixth sense.

What do these two chapters have in common? They both deal with Chainsaw Man's power, one talking about the system of fears and the names of demons, the other about Chainsaw Man's power, what disappears and the conflict with the Knights of the Apocalypse.

All our themes are there. But I explained to you that it was recalled three times. It's mentioned a second time in the title (BZZZZ = sound of chainsaws, therefore evokes CSM, Boom evokes conflict, Chomp, something cut off). But that doesn't mean that the title simply recalls the themes, it does so through noise. Logically, we're talking about hearing in this chapter! But then again, it's also fundamental, we'll move on.

The three themes are recalled a third time in this page: the ears recall the senses, the cross with the arms of CSM the disappearance, the supression or its power and the spiral, the knights of the apocalypse. If all this is recalled in a single page, it's inevitably to link them.

So what is Pochita saying?

🌀❌👂

The knights of the apocalypse don't hear me.

Now that sounds obscure. But CSM is rich enough to help you understand the implications of such a statement. So why don't we reopen our tomes and look for chapter 53.

Angel explains that all the demons heard the sound of a chainsaw at the moment of their death in the underworld. As the life cycle of demons is infinite, this implies that they hear this sound at the moment of their death in the underworld as well as their rebirth on earth.

Keep this in mind. To give you a better understanding, I'm going to go back to chapter 104. In this chapter, Yoru explains that despite all the times she killed CSM, he came back. Haven't you ever wondered how Pochita could get up so many times and still be so powerful?

What's the secret behind his power, one of the conditions of which is that he is the most feared? How did he achieve this power?

You've heard this secret from the start:

"VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

I think some of you will have rediscovered some of the links, while others may have lost their way. But let's imagine you're dying (poor soul) and I say to you as you take your last breath: AHAH WELL DONE!

And imagine that you are reborn. You're going to want to take revenge for what you've heard, aren't you?

Hell is by definition, not heaven............ It's not necessarily a place where people live together in peace............ So imagine a demon killed by another demon, but the devil who died hears chainsaws. They won't necessarily remember who killed them, but at least they'll remember the last noise he heard. Why? Because hearing is the last sense to diminish when you die.

So Pochita's secret is to make his chainsaws roar to regain his power. Because when a half-dead demon hears it, it frightens him. Logically associating it with death.

So what is the secret of the Knights of the Apocalypse? To rely on their sense of smell. Or to be more precise, to concentrate on another sense other than hearing. Just as the dog was able to do, since he neither looks at CSM nor hears him because he has no ears either. It's the key !

The Knights of the Apocalypse were able to fight CSM because they weren't afraid of him, concentrating not on the noise but on what was disappearing.

The more you concentrate on Chainsaw Man, the more you forget. So the clearer Makima saw her confrontation with Pochita, the more concepts escaped her.

So neither Makima nor Yoru, who focus a little too much on CSM, are the ones who remember the most. The one who remembers the most forgotten concepts but the least about her confrontation with CSM and the one who doesn't give a damn about anything.

At the same time as this chapter reveals a secret about Chainsaw Man's power, it also highlights a weakness: the devil eaten is not immediately forgotten, there is a time lag between the demon's disappearance and the forgetting of the name it represents. Once again, Yoru's reflex is to focus on what is disappearing, rather than, like Katana, on the lure of the chainsaws. How long does this time last? Once again, it's explained in this chapter.

I don't think the chainsaws were given much prominence in this chapter...? I mean, yes, they're there, but the way Pochita goes about it is more like using the eviscerated guts of his enemies. The intestines.

So digestion.

The disappearance of a concept is not instantaneous, it lasts as long as the concept is digested. So if Pochita spits it out..... or vomit.... before digesting…. the concept exists again!!!!!

Of course he's going to spit out the ears, I just pray that katana doesn't stay like that until the end…

But then if hearing is the sense that allows Pochita to be reborn very powerful. It doesn't do him any good to suppress that sense.

Precisely. If CSM dies, he won't be able to regain that power.

To remove his sense of hearing is to ensure that his power dies with him. And no one else benefits.

Above all, it's a sign to his opponents.

Last round.

[spncrscasey]

Casual (k.s.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader, Matt Casey

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Agreeing to a friends with benefits deal with Kelly Severide to blow of some steam after shifts seemed like a great idea in the beginning. What happens when one of you starts to catch feelings?

Warnings: 18+ (no actual smut written but don't read if implication of it makes you uncofmy) - slight ooc kelly? hurt/comfort, mention of child death, fires, angst, pet names, fluff, implied smut, cursing, mention of sex, drinking, arguments, kissing, happy ending

a/n: i’ve been a matt girl since the moment i started watching chicago fire but recently i’ve been obsessed with kelly so this fic is a result of said obsession! also this was a bit rushed so ignore that lol but it was kinda inspired by the song casual by chappell roan so if you want, give it a listen while reading :) oh by the way the gif??? it’s gonna be the end of me- my god. anyways, enjoy <3

You were at Molly’s, nursing your third glass of wine for the night, hoping to forget about the terrible shift you just had.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, but the universe had different plans. Thinking back, you start wondering what had gone wrong.

Truck and Ambo were called to a small fire at a local café. At first, it seemed like a minor incident, just burnt toast that had accidentally caught fire. What you hadn't realized, though, was that one of the stoves had been left on accidentally, causing gas to slowly leak out.

Upon arrival, your Lieutenant, Matt Casey, instructed Otis and you to escort everyone from the sitting area. Fortunately, there were only a few customers that day, making your job easier.

As you began ushering everyone out, a mother approached you and expressed concern that her six-year-old daughter was still inside. You asked Otis to stay with her before assuring her that you would locate her daughter.

Once the building was evacuated and Herrmann was preparing to hose down the kitchen, you radioed in about the missing girl and announced that you were going back inside to find her. Casey advised you to hurry up before the situation escalated making you nod and rush in.

Heading back in, you immediately began searching for the little girl. You called out to her, but there was no response. After checking the bathroom, you noticed her unconscious form lying under the sink. Your heart sank. You quickly checked her pulse and realized how faint it was. You removed your mask and placed it on her, hoping it would help her breathe. Once the mask was on, you swiftly picked her up and hurried towards the exit.

Passing by the kitchen, you didn't notice how the stove was on. You should have. You don't know how you didn't. It was your job to notice these things but you were in such a rush that it slipped your eye. The realization only dawned on you when you heard Herrmann yelling for everyone to exit the area because of leaking gas and by then, the explosion had already occurred.

The impact sent you stumbling backward, causing you to tumble to the ground with the girl in your arms. Casey’s voice crackled through the radio, but the ringing in your ears muffled the words. You couldn't seem to stop coughing and your head was throbbing making your vision start to blur. You felt yourself succumbing to the darkness, but you fought to regain your composure and struggled to stand up.

Once the initial shock had worn off, you quickly got up and made it to the exit, disregarding your injuries, only concerned about passing the girl off to Gabby and Shay. They tried their best, you know they did, but the girl was dead before you even got to them. The explosion had killed her. The explosion you should have seen coming.

That six-year-old girl passed away, and it was all your fault.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of your name. It was Kelly, the Lieutenant of Rescue Squad 3, and one of your closest friends, whom you were currently sleeping with.

A few months ago, after a particularly difficult shift, Severide and you had accidentally ended up spending the night together. Since then, you two agreed to keep it casual— no strings attached, friends with benefits, if you will. Both of you promised to break it off if one of you started to catch feelings and that seemed reasonable to you.

“Rough day?” He asked taking a seat on the barstool beside you.

“Six-year-old kid died in my arms, so I'd say so.” You say looking down at your glass, twirling the liquid around mindlessly.

“Wanna talk about?”

“Nope, but I do want to get out of here. Your place? It’s closer.” You glanced at him, and he caught on to what you meant in an instant; you needed to let out your frustrations.

He nodded as you downed the rest of your wine and you two headed back to his apartment without any further questions.

You woke up the next day with an arm draped over your torso. You didn’t think much of it until you realized whose arm it was.

Shit.

You had never stayed over. You guys had never spent the night together to keep the feelings at bay. This was uncharted territory. So to say this was going to be awkward would be an understatement.

You attempted to quietly pull his arm away without waking him, but as soon as you made contact, you noticed him starting to stir.

“Good morning baby,” he voiced, groggily.

“Morning Kell,” You replied, blushing at the unexpected name.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, referencing the reason you were at the bar in the first place.

“Better.” You replied as you turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He didn't say anything, instead simply pulling you in for a quick kiss, letting you know he was there for you.

After pulling away, you decided it was time to get up. Popping the little bubblle you were in and ending the moment you shared.

“I'm gonna get dressed and head out, I didn't mean to stay over- just got carried away. I know we don't do that so I'll leave, sorry.”

“Y/N wait up-” He says, catching your attention.

“Yeah?” You turn around to look at him.

“I don't mind that you stayed, I know you had a tough day yesterday so it's fine. Make yourself at home sweetheart.”

The nickname caught you off guard once more. It wasn't unusual for him to shower you with praise and call you these names during sex. But afterwards? He'd never spoken to you that way and the sudden change was putting your heart in a whirl.

You sighed trying to regain your composure. “Yep, thanks. I'll uhh… I’ll see you at shift.” You brushed him off, smiling.

Since that day, the dynamic between you two has shifted noticeably. Others at the firehouse have started to take note of it as well. He's become more attentive. Making sure he has a meal saved for you when you're too busy to eat, accompanying you home from Molly's when you've had a few drinks, and checking in on you after difficult calls.

It wasn't just him, though. You’ve been overly caring with him too, more than a friend should be. When he discovered he had a half-sister, you stood by him. You supported him in reaching out to her. And when she was going through a rough patch after her kidnapping? You were the one on the phone talking her down when she made the decision to move to Colorado.

After all your help, his mother even invited you to her house as a token of gratitude. You never intended to become so involved with him and his family, it changed how you saw him.

You heard the rumors, you knew he was a player— a womanizer who didn't care about anything except his pleasure. But witnessing his interactions with his family alongside the kindness he's been treating you with recently? It was coming to be harder and harder to view him as selfish and uncaring.

The line between friends and lovers was becoming increasingly blurry. Yet you were still trying your hardest to avoid the development of feelings because you knew once you crossed that threshold, there was no going back.

You were walking towards the kitchen when you caught Casey and Severide engaging in conversation by the coffee pot.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop but hearing your name leave Matt’s lips made you stop dead in your tracks.

“What's going on between you and her?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s all casual. She's nothing more than a friend, Case. We're not together.” Kelly replied, a little too firmly.

Ouch.

You knew nothing was going on between the two of you but hearing that coming from him? It hurt more than you'd like to admit.

You imagined sharing an apartment, perhaps a year or so from now and spending the coming years wrapped in each other's arms, building a family. You chuckled to yourself at the fact that you even thought that was a possibility at some point. Realizing now how naive it was to believe he would ever view you as anything more than a fuckbuddy. Oh, how you loved being stupid.

You spent the rest of the shift avoiding him. It wasn't fair to him; after all, he didn't know you had overheard. Your feelings were your problem, and it wasn't right to act as though he were responsible. Yet, facing him felt impossible without making a fool of yourself.

You found yourself at Molly’s again. Downing shot after shot. You knew you were way past your limit but the lack of Kelly Severide-related thoughts in your brain was encouraging you to continue.

It had gotten to the point where you noticed Herrmann giving you shots of water instead but you were too far gone to care.

You were about to request another real shot when you felt a presence next to you. You turned your head to the side and saw the one person you were trying to forget about.

Lieutenant Kelly Severide.

“You've been avoiding me.” He said, less of a question and more of a statement, keeping his eyes on you.

You hated how small he made you feel, like he could read you in just one glance. His intense gaze made you look away before trying to find Herrmann. “I have not. Now excuse me, I was about to order another drink.”

“You don't need another one.” He said, grabbing your shoulders and turning you back around to face him.

“What are you? My boyfriend? We’re just friends Severide, you don't get to make that decision for me.” You wouldn't have usually been that snarky but the alcohol in your system was giving you courage you didn't know you had.

He was taken aback by your response, you were never like this with him. It was worrying him.

He tried to help you stand up, “Y/N c’mon let's get you home.”

You reluctantly agreed. You knew you were going to regret this in the morning but at the moment, you didn't care. He started walking you towards the exit when you pulled yourself away from him and spoke up, “I don't need a babysitter. I can walk by myself.”

“If you actually think I'm letting you walk home, drunk and alone at this time of night, then you're crazy.” He replied casually while walking beside you.

You stopped abruptly and sighed, looking down. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He questioned, placing his finger under your chin bringing your face up to meet his.

“Why do you act like you care?” You clarified, holding his stare, pretending his touch wasn't erupting fireworks in your stomach.

“I do care! I care more about you than you realize Y/N.” He said a bit too loudly, raising his hands in exaggeration.

“You're not supposed to!” You shouted back.

“Why not? Is it such a crime to care about my friend?” He replied, exasperated and upset.

There it was. The dreaded ‘friend.’ You knew it was coming. So why did it still shock you?

“I- I can't do this Kelly- I'll just call a cab to take me home, you don't need to walk me. Forget anything happened.” You said turning around, ignoring his objections, calling your name.

You spent your days off moping around. Kelly had called you multiple times and left countless messages, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You knew you were being childish, but it didn't matter. The thought of going back to work and having to face him filled you with dread but that was a problem for later. Right now, you have errands to run.

While you were getting dressed, you absentmindedly opened the drawer meant for Kelly. You couldn't avoid him, he seemed to be everywhere you looked. Your phone, your workplace, and now, your dresser.

You sighed. The fact that you two had separate drawers designated for one another at each other's homes, slipping your mind completely. Is that something friends with benefits did? Did they keep clothes at the other’s place to ‘make it easier for them to get dressed?’

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anyone but opened the door regardless not guessing who you’d see on the other side.

You found yourself face-to-face with none other than the man who had been plaguing your thoughts nonstop. However, after avoiding him for so long, you didn't know what to say or how to act. You felt like you’d never been in such close proximity with him before, it was suffocating. So you simply stood there until he eventually spoke.

“We need to talk.” He stated simply.

“What's there to talk about?” You asked, avoiding his eyes.

“This. Us.” He said, motioning between the two of you.

You finally took a good look at him, you noticed the heavy bags under his eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders. It was clear that he was utterly exhausted, as if he hadn't slept at all in the last few days. And the simple thought of the reason for his exhaustion being you, made you feel terrible.

“Severide-” You couldn’t let this drag on for any longer without hating yourself, so you took a deep breath and continued, “I think we should end this arrangement that we have.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

“We agreed that once one of us starts catching feelings, we'd end it. So let's end it before it gets messy and hurts either of us more than it should.” You tried closing the door once you were done speaking but he quickly squeezed himself in, preventing your attempts at pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” You asked following him into your apartment.

“That's not fair!” He exclaims, “You don't get to ignore me for days and then just end our relationship and shut me out.”

“This was hardly a relationship.” You scoff, “But, what did you want me to do Kelly!?” You matched his volume, watching as he paced in the middle of your living room.

“I don't know, maybe talk to me about how you're feeling!” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm while glaring at you. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under right about now.

“Oh, that's really mature coming from you! Mr. Expert at communication.” You replied with just as much pettiness as you could muster, stepping closer to him to prove a point.

He stood silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and approaching you, “Maybe you're right, maybe we do need to end this thing we have. I just thought we cared about us enough to at least talk it out.”

The two of you now stood face to face, your breaths labored and eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze. Silence enveloped the space between you, the tension so thick that it felt tangible like it could be sliced through with a knife.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I shouldn't have ignored you and I also shouldn't have just sprung that on you.”

Once you noticed he was letting you continue, you went on, “I just realized that I couldn't be as ‘casual’ about our relationship as you are anymore. I tried to hold my tongue and ignore the feelings I have for you, but it was getting harder Kelly. Nothing about our deal has been casual for weeks now and it was starting to affect me.” You finally let out.

He took in your words, shaking his head. “It hasn't been casual for me either Y/N. I love you, and have for a very long time.”

The force of his words hit you like a physical blow. Love? How did he claim to love you when he had not only never hinted at such feelings before but also dismissed Casey when he asked about it? You were confused and it was evident on your face with the way you looked at him, shell-shocked.

“You love me? But you told Casey that there was nothing going on between us and-”

You were quickly cut off by his hands on your face, pulling you in. The intensity of his lips against yours short-circuited your entire being. It took a moment for your brain to register what was happening, but soon you found yourself reciprocating his kiss.

While you and he had shared kisses in the past, this one was different. It wasn't hurried like your usual kisses but instead filled with a deep sense of passion, tender and slow, and brimming with love and adoration for one another.

He placed his hands gently on your waist, drawing you closer, deepening the kiss. You raised your arms, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the slight tug as you did. It was as if your lips were pulled together by an irresistible force, making it difficult to part.

You wanted time to freeze in that beautiful moment so you could stay in it forever. You wished to remain embraced by him indefinitely. His touch was tender and affectionate, brimming with care. It felt as though both of you had shed all your worries and were completely immersed in the love surrounding you.

You tentatively ended the kiss and gazed into his eyes, which stemmed a love you had never felt from him before. For the first time, they didn't overwhelm you or make you feel small; instead, they enveloped you in a sense of comfort. And in that fleeting beat, his eyes spoke volumes even when his words remained silent.

“I love you too.” You said, sharing his sentiment, causing a grin to emit on both of your faces.

You felt like a teenager who was experiencing love for the first ever time; and you wouldn't want it any other way.

[cherrylovelycherry]

❝ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ❞

Tarte aux fraises . angst

Éclair au chocolat . fluff

Macarons . reverse comfort

Mille-feuille . hurt-comfort

Soufflé . nsfw

Pain au chocolat . tw

Pain aux raisins . action

𝐇 𝐎 𝐍 𝐊 𝐀 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐀 𝐑 𝐑 𝐀 𝐈 𝐋 ──

𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞

You and me. Us.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises, some macarons and a éclair au chocolate.

pairing. Aventurine x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, confused thoughts and feelings, insecurity. synopsis. You didn't feel right, so after keeping it to yourself, you decided to talk it over with him.

fairy of shampoo

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a soufflé.

pairing. aventurine x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, mutual longing but are too dumb to understand it, slighty suggestive, mentions of sex, confused thoughts and feelings, insecurity. mdni synopsis. he starts to feel love for you, you start to feel love for him, but when it comes to admitting it, things don't quite work out.

Trios never work

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. Aventurine x gn!reader x Dr ratio (poly) cw/genre. angst, some slow burn, anxiety vomiting, drink, being left out, slight addiction issue. synopsis. you couldn't stand to be left out any longer.

Contracts and preferences pt.1 pt.2

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. Aventurine x gn!reader x Dr ratio (poly) cw/genre. angst, argument, some slow burn again, slight being left out, some nsfw in pt.2, negligent attitudes synopsis. you went from being “decoration” and “ partner” to “ servant” and “assistant”.

𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

"Surprise, muddle fudger!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Pain aux raisins, pain au chocolat and uh... a soufflé.

pairing. Boothill x gn!reader cw/genre. action, some nsfw(desperate kisses with tongue), violence, implied deaths, weapons (guns and knives), no gore, anyway mdni

How un.fortunate

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and uhm... a éclair au chocolat.

pairing. Boothill x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, misunderstood, crying, disappointment, frustration, bittersweet ed, some fluff synopsis. he heard part of the conversation with your friends, exactly a bad part.

You know what they say — save a horse, ride a cowboy!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Soufflé and a éclair au chocolat.

pairing. Boothill x fem!reader cw/genre. nsfw, fluff, cunnilingus, blowjob, some praise kink, first time, mdni synopsis. you ended up fucking a cowboy

Probably

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and a soufflé.

pairing. boothill x gn!reader cw/genre. exes to something else, angst, slightly suggestive/nsfw, vomiting, mentions of vomit. synopsis. after “getting back” together, you find him almost making out with a girl

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Insolence and control

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. Sunday x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, argument, some slow burn, TW(abuse), first time slap, criticism synopsis. his control-freak behavior started to get on your nerves.

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨

Bitter, Sweet

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises, mille-feuille...uhm...a macaron too.

pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, cheating, implied divorce, break up, lovers to strangers/exes, hurt no slightly comfort, reverse comfort synopsis. he cheated on you for months, and you already knew all about it

Valentine's day

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises.

pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, ratio is somewhat selfish tbh, (real situation TT), disinterest, early disappointment. ruined thoughts. synopsis. he doesn't care about holidays.

Clumsiness

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises, éclair au chocolat and a mille-feuille.

pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. slight angst, fluff, comfort, microwave explosion, use of the word "Idiot".

Trios never work

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. Dr ratio x gn!reader x Aventurine (poly) cw/genre. angst, some slow burn, anxiety vomiting, drink, being left out, slight addiction issue. synopsis. you couldn't stand to be left out any longer.

Fiancé

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. dr ratio x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, arguments, ratio being a jerk, some comfort, mentions of loss/miscarriage, more angst synopsis. you love your fiancé after all, right?… right?

Contracts and preferences pt.1 pt.2

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅 Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. Aventurine x gn!reader x Dr ratio (poly) cw/genre. angst, argument, some slow burn again, slight being left out, some nsfw in pt.2, negligent attitudes synopsis. you went from being “decoration” and “ partner” to “ servant” and “assistant”.

𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐒 𝐇 𝐈 𝐍 𝐈 𝐌 𝐏 𝐀 𝐂 𝐓 ──

𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

Unsigned papers

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises.

pairing. alhaitham x fem! reader cw/genre. divorce, slighty angst, non-dramatic, implicit disaffection, no comfort.

Little boy

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and a mille-feuille.

pairing. alhaitham x fem!reader cw/genre. slightly angsty, oc 'haitham, happy/bittersweet(?) ending.

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

506

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and a éclair au chocolat.

pairing: modern!childe x fem!reader cw/genre: ex-lovers, angst, some fluff

Premonition

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat

pairing. childe x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, degrading words, non-explicit manipulation, cheating.

The missing one

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises.

pairing. Childe x fem!reader cw/genre. slighty angst, hurt no comfort, breakup, lovers to exes.

𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐨

Try, not trying

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Only a tarte aux fraises.

pairing. cyno x fem!reader cw/genre. slight angst, no comfort, sort of toxic relationship.

𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

It's been a long, long time

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises, éclair au chocolat and a pain au chocolat.

pairing. neuvillette x gn! reader cw/genre. light angst, death mentions, fluff, one shot.

Independence, trust and talk

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises and a éclair au chocolat.

pairing. neuvillette x fem!reader cw/genre. light angst, fluff, established relationships, short.

“Childe took all the love that belonged to me, I guess.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises.

pairing. neuvillette x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, lovers to strangers.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞

I was enchanted to meet you

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Just a tarte aux fraises.

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, falling out of love, break up, lovers to strangers/exes, mention of lies, false words.

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

"How was your day" pt. 1 pt. 2

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises, éclair au chocolat and a mille-feuille .

pairing. wriothesley x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, argument, empty end in pt.1, misunderstandings, comfort, sweet ending!, references/spoilers to 4.1 and 4.2 archon quest.

"Goodbye, senior."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓂅Tarte aux fraises.

pairing. school/modern au!wriothesley x fem!reader cw/genre. slighty angst, a little bit of fluff, no-comfort, unrequited love?

New year's eve

pairing. wriothesley x gn!reader cw/genre. implicit death, slighty angst, slighty fluff, no comfort.

𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

Hug

pairing. zhongli x fem!reader cw/genre. fluff, slight angst, reverse comfort, stress.

Another name

pairing. zhongli x gn!reader cw/genre. some bittersweet to pure angst, no comfort, begging, toxic relationship, do not imitate.

[lightningonatether]

Why c!endersmile were actually friends

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: my crazy thesis on two bad bitches with not a single moment of screentime fueled purely by my own insanity

ALTERNATIVELY alternatively titled: to all loreheads please be nice i dont usually lorepost. feel free to engage though

So my return is courtesy of litchi, who mentioned c!endersmile like once a month ago, and got me thinking about them so hard I couldn't just walk away.

Namely, litchi reminded me of a few theories I have concerning c!endersmiles relationship, that I developed back when i was watching the SMP live. This might make my recollection of some events a little fuzzy, but everything should be canon compliant cause I was thinking about all this as I watched.

I was already watching ranboo pretty regularly at the point the prison arc started, I cant resist a really weird guy with horrible debilitating anxiety. I already thought the whole hearing dreams voice in his head was really interesting, but as the prison arc evolved it became clear that ranboos relationship with dream wasnt just some hallucination inside ranboos head and actually had some substance.

My theory really started to develop into what it is now with the explosions on the prison roof which led to the lockdown and tommys death; these were confirmed to be set by ranboo in his enderwalk state. He was one of the only people online at the time, ranboo found tnt in his inventory afterwards, and I think dream also told sam he knew ranboo did it at some point, although I can't find the exact stream.

At that point it was obvious that enderwalking ranboo held a different set of beliefs, alliances, and likely more memories than the "awake" ranboo we saw most of the time on streams, and was acting against amnesiac ranboos wishes. The explosions above the prison along with the reveal that ranboo had been regularly visiting dream in prison confirmed that dream and ender!ranboo were some sort of allies.

At the time, my assumption was that ranboo had simply made an attempted prison break. It wouldnt be a stretch to assume, if ranboo had visited regularly, that he would have noticed the poor conditions and tried to break his ally out. However, after the confirmation of the staged finale, and a better look at cdreams motivations(wanting to provide protection for punz, separating himself very publicly from his only known ally to keep them safe) the idea that enderwalk ranboo, an ally of dreams, would go against dreams explicit wishes to stay locked in that prison began making less sense.

It would only make sense if either:

enderwalk never knew about the plan or

enderwalk knew about the plan but went against it anyway

1 is a very tempting explanation. c!dream rarely lets anyone close. even punz, who knew the plan intimately, wasn't aware of dreams true motivations to bring the server back to a peaceful time before conflict. but..... it didnt sit right with me.

Two reasons for this: I know some people may have stopped watching/never watched ranboo lore, but towards the end of the prison arc, ranboo began seeing flashes of "lessons" appear on screen. These lessons all had that utilitarian and paranoid feel a lot of dreams actions/reasoning have, like "dont trust anybody"(paraphrasing, thats just what i remember the core of that message being) or "never hesitate to gain a favor from someone, you can use it to get something from them later". anyone remember technos favor to dream? It was heavily implied these lessons were meant to be from dream, directed at c!enderwalk. This would mean the two spent a significant amount of time together. not only that, dream was sharing his *life philosophy* with ender!ranboo. thats not just something dream would share with anyone, and implies a close allyship at the least. its almost like he was teaching a pupil. yeah, sure, some of his lessons were a little fucked up and weird in that dream sort of way, but he was looking out for the kid. and it seems that enderwalk wasnt hesitant to act on those lessons either. he promised to keep a shulker safe for foolish, gaining a favor, and didnt sign a single one of those prison visitation waivers, on top of sam discovering they were corrupted into enderian when he checked LMAO.

This alone would be enough to persuade me enderwalk HAD to have been let in on the plan, at least so he wouldnt cause any problems (such as trying to get his ally out of prison).

but the other reason is... ranboos stated philosophy against conflict. he doesnt like sides, he wishes they wouldn't exist. I remember watching a stream and nearly jumping out of my seat when he told chat he just wished the server could just be one big happy family! because that is nearly word for word what a bunch of loreheads were saying about dreams motivations at the time(and now obviously lmao). if we keep in mind their contact for those "lessons", ranboos visits to dream in prison, AND the fact that dreams and ranboos motivations coincide on a level even Above dream and punzs(punz seemed to have been unaware of and also not particularly motivated by dreams wish for peace) i cant really imagine dream not letting this guy in on the plan.

which leaves us with 2) ranboo tried to break dream out against dreams wishes.

Maybe ranboo was just an ally and chickened out after he saw dreams mistreatment in prison and went against the plan, but... dream missed him after sam barred him from visiting. he asked sapnap to deliver a note to ranboo(just a smiley face, likely with the hopes of triggering an enderwalk) despite fearing for his ally punz enough to lock himself in prison. it feels reminicent to how dream sounds when he comments on george not visiting him once. like he missed a friend despite trying so hard to separate himself from the ones he'd had.

Maybe ranboo tried to break in because he saw a friend being mistreated, and couldn't leave the plan stand.

And that kind of makes sense doesn't it? that dream, someone whos paranoid about how peoples connection to him puts them in danger, would choose an amnesiac who spends most of their time terrified of dream, and wouldnt remember any of his plans or their friendship to use against either of them in the first place?

[saintmuses]

❝𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣❞

Pairing:

Judge!Jonathan Crane x Arkham Fugitive!Reader

Summary:

It had been several years since Gotham as society obliterated into pieces. Several years since Jonathan had seen his favorite Arkham patient escape from the asylum with a promise on her lips.  

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Mentions of violence. Implied attempted assault (not from Crane). Brief description of threat. Minors, dni! Note: I realized that I haven’t been giving Jonathan especially Judge!Crane some love lately! That being said, it’s sorta set in the final installment of The Dark Knight Trilogy with allusions of Batman Begins scenes.

Word Count: 1.7k

The city of Gotham’s corruption was never ending; endless explosions, crimes and more deaths continued.

It had been two years since he had last seen Y/N. Echoes of her boots surrounded him as she sprinted away from him and the rubbles that was the Arkham Asylum; never looking back after whispering to him while he was bounded in an unoccupied cell that she was going to kill him was still fresh in his mind ever since.

She was indicted for bashing a stranger’s head with a brick after he tried to take her in the alley. When he saw her in the courtroom, he was simply enthralled by how she was stoic and yet her eyes were filled with fire. He then knew he had to admit her into the asylum so he could be closer to her, and his words held power in swaying the judge to prompt the sentencing.

That was why she was his favorite subject; he could tell she despised him by the way she refused to look at him. The tone of her voice was hard and colder than ice, and he reveled in the feeling. Of course, she would indulge him in sessions, out of fear he would use fear toxin on her. It was their deal, if she talked then he wouldn’t have to take his scarecrow burlap mask filled with his experiment out of his metal storage briefcase.

His feelings for her, whatever he could classify as much as he could since he despised emotions that connected to romantic sense, had developed during his tenure as her psychiatrist that he was angry when she escaped after Batman showed up, destroying the restoration of future order of Gotham with his creation. 

"Let go of me you son of a bitch!" 

His eyes widened at the familiar sound of a woman seething, and he had to settle for a stoic expression before turning around just in time to see two of his henchmen with their hands wrapped around the woman's body dragging her down the hallway.

She cursed out loud when they dropped her aggressively, still folding onto her upper body, and her hair swayed wildly as she jerked her legs and bounded wrists.

He could see that his henchmen had to use ropes to put her in binds, which indicated she tried to attack them, and was unsuccessful with her mission.

Of course, she still had the fire in her. He thought wryly.

"Gentlemen, what is the meaning of this?" He inquired, taking a step forward which made Y/N stop thrashing in their grips.

Eyeing her stilled form, he smirked at her when her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"Leave her," he ordered, glaring at two young men until they released her arms allowing her to kneel on the floor.

Waiting until he heard the sound of a click to indicate his henchmen left the room, and he turned his head to look back at her when the sounds of footsteps faded away.

He took a step toward her, crouching before her as she eyed him warily. He then reached out with his fingers to her face, relishing in the feeling of her skin; he trailed his fingers over her cheeks and up her jaw where he pinched her earlobe between index and thumb. He gave it a little tug, experimental, though sharp enough to incite a sting. "I didn't expect to see you," he paused, a smirk grew on his lips. "Thought you were smarter than to get caught."

Before she could fight against him vehemently, he clasped her arms, dragging her up along with him as he straightened his form, and he marched across the room until he reached for the door that led to the sitting room.

He pushed her aside before slamming the door and pushed the lock button to ensure no one would come in especially the rogues. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He heard her speaking up from behind him before he turned towards her.

He didn't answer her, although he did stare at her for a few moments before reaching for her arm and pushed her along until he reached another door that led to the room where his office resided.

Once they crossed the threshold, he pushed her against the wall after he activated the lock for his office.

Her eyes widened when he brought his face close to her, he reached between them to unfasten the rope around her wrists before he brought one hand around her waist to push her body against his after dropping the rope to the side.

She was embarrassed to hear a slight mewling sound escape her own lips as the arm that had been around her waist slid up; he let her slide a few inches down the wall before his hand entangled itself in her hair. 

Tugging her hair firmly, Jonathan pulled her head back so that her mouth fell open and her throat was exposed. He leant forward and ran his nose up the side of her neck and her chin, nuzzling her ear.

"You're going to lay on the desk, and I'm going to do what I should've done before you escaped from me." He muttered; a command etched in his tone.

She nodded; her eyes wide. His authoritarian tone was such a turn on, she didn't think she would have been turned on by the authority in his voice since she had never liked his tone during their sessions before she had escaped, but that was not the case.

He lifted her arms once again, carrying her across the room until he placed her onto his desk unceremoniously.

He leaned back to unbutton her pants before pushing them down from her legs. Once it hit the floor, she lifted her legs to spread before him, only panting in her underwear and t-shirt in the room.

He then reached under her shirt, ghosting his fingers across her skin as he slid his hands towards her breasts. 

She gasped into his mouth as he palmed her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples that were becoming erect before drawing his hands back to remove his ragged blazer that seemed to confine him.

He was thankful that he had requested a large ornate desk as he propped himself on top of the furniture, leaning over her. Sweat began to dampen his skin as well as hers. Chest touched chest as he planted a hot kiss to her jaw, then her chin as he trailed his lips across her face. She squirmed as he dipped two fingers into her cunt and withdrew only to bring them to her lips where he traced her mouth leaving a slick trail behind.

He pushed her underwear aside, away from her slit, before reaching with his other hand to unbutton his pants, unzipping it, and his cock sprung free. Before she could reach for it with her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut when his cock filled her up with a single hard thrust, leaning with his forehead against hers as he savored the feeling of her walls milking his cock. 

He withdrew his hips slightly before slamming back into her, relishing in the feeling over again.

The way she breathed against his face, the tiny whimpers leaving her mouth, the way she adjusted her hips to allow him better access, the way she reacted to every thrust, every push and pull, it hurt him inside in a most magnificent manner.

"Fuck," he rasped as he pulled out again. He hovered for a moment, with just the head inside her, and she felt empty. He gripped her hips and slammed inside of her, causing her to cry out and arched her back off the desk.

Her hands pulled him closer, gripping his back with her nails. Her legs still wrapped around him; she pushed her heels into his ass. He fell on top of her, holding himself up by his forearms and leaning his head down into the crook of her neck. She could feel him planting sloppy kisses on her neck and shoulder. He curled his lips and reached for the curve of her neck to dig his teeth into her skin, and she gasped as the sensation went right to her clit, pushing her higher which made her throw her head back.

He pounded into her brutally in abandon, riding her orgasm as she continued to recite his name like she was spellbound. 

He spontaneously wrapped an arm around her waist and reared back upright on his knees, holding her against him and thrusting up harshly. He gave several more thrusts before groaning hoarsely, chasing his own release. Her head fell forward on his shoulder, and she moaned softly at the feel of him filling her.

He slowly descended them back to the desk, caressing her abdomen softly, and panting in her ear, still buried deep inside her. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then urged her to meet him in a lazy kiss, which she complied in daze. Her lips were swollen and torn from his previous kisses and her own teeth as she had bit them down harshly as he fucked her.

Withdrawing from her, wincing slightly at the sensitivity as his cock slipped out of her cunt. His tongue swiped the bottom of his lip as he spotted his cum trickling out of her hole.

Fuck.

He inhaled deeply as he eased himself off the desk before placing himself on the leather chair before tucking his softened cock back in his dress pants.

Bringing his gaze to the ceiling of his office, he traced on the skin of her calf absentmindedly, only to snap his eyes to her face when he heard a sharp noise.

She held a knife, fingers wrapped around the finely detailed handle as she angled it towards his jaw where it was sparsely with light hair sprinkled across his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, unamused as he gripped the back of her neck.

Her eyes flickered to his nonchalantly before moving them to the metal before her.

Tracing the grooves of the weapon, she lightly wetted her lips before closing the inches between them, only to pause when her lips barely brushed his.

"Fulfilling my promise, Doctor Crane."

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Some thoughts while I'm watching Nerdy Prudes Must Die for the first time:

After the Big Game, something that's been itching my brain for a while came back- Clivesdale. Hatchet Town is reinforcing this, but since Black Friday and Honey Queen the Clivesdale hate has really started to stand out to me. Yes it's a funny gag, but the Hatchetfield disdain for Clivesdale is straight-up cultish. Laura Cunningham (I think was her name?) had lived in Hatchetfield for 15 years, but was entirely excommunicated when it came out that she was from Clivesdale. Keep in mind, she was well-liked enough to be a Honey Queen candidate. Two teenagers are brutally murdered and everyone is more focused on the loss against the Chemists. Even people who hate Hatchetfield like Emma and Ziggy hate Clivesdale more. The general population of Hatchetfield is so feverish. I know that the Wiggly doll riots happened all over the world, but holy SHIT it didn't take any time at all for Hatchetfield to totally cave in on itself!

Here's the other thing that gets me- has anyone ever really left Hatchetfield? Anyone who wanted to?

•Emma Perkins has exactly one life goal- not to die in Hatchetfield. Her entire life had been, up until Jane's death, about getting away from Hatchetfield. She is officially pronounced dead after the explosion at Starlight Theatre, though she survived in Clivesdale Hospital. She only lived for a couple weeks after "dying" in Hatchetfield. She also dies almost immediately after returning to her hometown in the events of Forever and Always. She does not die after the fire at her weed farm, but she is arrested and presumably imprisoned in Hatchetfield.

•Frank Pricely is imprisoned by Sherman Young after his attempted escape.

•Alice Woodward dies in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals before she can leave for college. In fact, she dies after skipping the bus to Clivesdale

•Lex and Hannah Foster (along with Ethan Greene) have plans to escape Hatchetfield and head to California. All of them die before they can even get past Nantucket bridge.

•Zoey Chambers wants to win Honey Queen for the funds to get out of Hatchetfield. In both Honey Queen and The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals she dies before she has the chance to leave.

•Jonathan Brisby attempts to retrieve Lucy Stockworth from Hatchetfield. Brisby dies in the woods, Lucy disappears in the same woods with the Woolyfoot.

•Jenny and Andy planned to move to Clivesdale, but Jenny dies before she can leave, and by the time Andy becomes Andrew Killgore he's back at CCRP in Hatchetfield. Obviously this is wobbly because of timeline shenanigans, but it's implied that Ted didn't actually cross timelines during the events of Time Bastard, just fucked around in his own a lot.

There's just something. There's something about Hatchetfield. It's like a black hole. If it wants you there, and it does, you always end up there, and it's not likely you'll leave a second time.

Something about the ambient affects of the town absolutely fascinates me, I've been thinking about this stuff for like 5 years and it's not gotten old to me yet