#If you do this to arcane that’s the last straw

[space-1z-cool]

spoilers ahead for s1 and 2 of arcane

jinx centered Arcane rambleeee :3

i feel that jinx is the embodiment of getting so close to happiness but having it constantly torn away from her. Usually somewhat by her own doing, but Vi also had a lot to do with her losses when u think abt it.

Ekko Jinx Vi Claggor and. the guy i forget his name. Were all starting to be happy and live a life with Vander and the chill guy who was like ekkos dad. Yea sure they did get involved with shady shit, and crime and all of that. But They didnt have much of a choice while living in Zaun. But then they go on a mission, which the outcome of has a chain reaction to the rest of the series.

(as clearly shown in the AU where vi is dead and everyone else is thriving and hextech doesnt exist bc jayce probably succeeded in his attempt on his life after the explosion killed Vi. And Theres a buncha stuff that could have happened w viktor. maybe his disease progressed too far, or he didnt gain interest because of the outcome of its accidental use killing a young girl frkm the undercity. which could give him moral cause to not support jayce. but anyways back to the main topic)

That mission led to powder/jinx really really needing to feel helpful. So what happens? She gets her bombs to work. But she accidentally "kills" vander in the process. As well as actually killing claggor and the other guy. Therefore getting si close to feeling happy and useful. But it being taken away by her own actions and Vi's influence (imo vi's reaction is what leads her to be taken in by silco. bc silco feels safer now than Vi, who just hit her in the face and called her a jinx after previously reassuring her she wasnt.)

Later on when Jinx is with silco. Silco loves jinx. He's a decent father figure, horrible person (product of environment and never finding the letter) but an ok father. He loves Jinx and wouldn't give her to Piltover even though thats what the council wanted to 'allow' zaun to be its own sovereign state. He trusts her to an extent. She has her fun with her gadgets and explosives and Silco scolds her when needed. etc. I'd argue that Even though it wasn't perfect, and jinx was struggling with untreated mental illness, She was starting to get kinda happy and comfortable.

But what happens next? She kidnaps Vi and Caitlyn, Vi accidentally triggers her into an episode, and jinx accidentally kills silco while she's disoriented and hallucinating. And even after that?? Silco didnt get upset because he Knew that she didnt mean to. ( which EUGH.. their fucked up father daughter duo makes me so emotional) Happiness ripped away p2.

Okay! Maybe third time is the charm. She has Isha! And She's done with the Jinx persona but knows she isnt really powder either. She does her best to be a good older sister and shows isha the ropes of zaun-living kinda. They genuinely have a nice bond and Jinx stops getting involved with as much violence. Also if you notice, most of her hallucinations have stopped (at least on screen).

And Then they meet up w Vi and find Warwick/Vander. They make it to Viktor's Cult and happiness looks so fucking close. They could be a real Family.

And WHAT HAPPENS????? Ambitcha and her army barge in, wanting Warwick for a weapon, Jayce drops in to try to kill his boyfriend who isnt himself fully anymore, and it all goes ti shit! Jinx loses Isha and Vander (again) And its all fucked. That was her last fucking straw. After losing all of that she goes tk prison.

And after EVERYTHING she's endured. All of that kind of finalizes in her brain that she is a Jinx.

In the end, If you look at jinx's facial expressions as she saves Vi and (probably) dooms herself, she's content. She's content dying this way. After losing Everything. After feeling like she was the cause of everything bad. She could do One thing to give her remaining family member happiness. And doing that one thing seemed to give her relief or possibly even her own happiness. And if she died, that final emotion, finally reaching a semblance of being content, couldnt be taken away.

and i dont blame her for choosing to go out like that. was i happy? FUCK NO i was sobbing. but it made sense. ik there's a theory she's probably alive. esp cus she's like a main character in league. but from what ive seen/heard? arcane is based on lol lore but not quite. And Jinx is a far more nuanced character in arcane.

i think thats all for now. prepare for more long ass posts bc this show is pure art. and i loved it.

[emmikoochaitea]

guys I’m fine..

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane imagine.

Arcane characters react when you take a hit for them.

Characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika.

Trigger warnings: fluff, angst, reader getting hurt, injuries, yearning, implied smut, gross m*n, harassment

Mel medarda;

It was a seemingly normal night for you both, you had decided to take Mel out for dinner, nothing too luxurious (in her own words) but you wanted nothing but the best for your Mel, she appreciated that, god, she never looked more beautiful when she's standing in the moonlight in her red dress she especially wore for you and only you

The night was going just as planned, it was perfect, there was much laughter and smiles that hurt both of your cheeks, as you held hands and walked together, occasionally sitting down and kissing one another, when of course, a drunk man happened to be near by, and he didn't like what he saw, the famous Mel medarda kissing someone that wasn't a man

He ended up becoming furious, stumbling over as he started shouting nonsense, Mel wasn't having it, she used her authority voice that turns stern to control the situation, she does this when she's nervous, and you can tell when she grips onto your hand tighter

When you see the man raising his hand in her direction, you immediately shield her and take the hit, your cheek stings as you even taste blood, that was Mel's last straw when she saw him hit her lover, you've never seen her this angry, it was a sight to see her cussing out the man and ruining him to pieces, he ended up walking off, leaving you alone as you felt a little ashamed, but you were happy that you had stopped him from hitting Mel, no one hits her

"why'd you do that?" Mel had asked, bending down on her knees as she takes your face in her hands, checking to make sure you're okay. "Why did you do that?" She keeps on asking, her eyes wide with fury and worry.

"Because I love you" was all you said.

She smiled, laughed, you laughed with her, she had tears in her eyes, though you wouldn't bring it up, you wiped some away with your thumb, as she kissed you hard

Caitlyn;

Caitlyn was out doing her duty when you were supposed to be at home, relaxing, waiting for her return, things have been getting rough fast, much to her liking as she had to deal with it all

She knew there was no going back once she went down this road, it had to be done, you had tried convincing her to stop and think, you know her grief has been eating at her, you've felt it, you know what it's like yourself

She tries to hide it, but you can see it

You try to be there for her in any way you can, whatever she needs, you'll give

While she was out one night, alone, you know she's capable of taking care of herself, you don't doubt that at all, the one time she didn't have her gun with her is when shit happens, you don't like guns, she knows this, so she tries not to carry them around you, unless absolute necessary

Then out of no where, she's attacked.

And she stumbles, for the first time in so long, she's nervous, scared, thinking about you

They came out of no where, taking her off guard as they had their masks on, it was dark out, she couldn't see much

Then you appear all of a sudden, like a knight in shining armor, she watches you in awe before she realizes what you are doing with the way you jumped at them, with fury on your face as you raised your fist, ready to protect her, she shouted your name, you looked, and you got hit

Caitlyn lost it

They were all done by the time you opened your eyes again, embarrassed, you couldn't look at Caitlyn in the eyes but she had picked you up in her arms, carrying you home, she was silent, thinking you were still out, you admired her, reaching out to caress her cheek, she smiled, looking down at you as that tells you enough

Vi;

You hadn't seen vi all day, you knew she'd come home eventually, you two had plans, a date she promised, but something didn't feel right

Vi doesn't fuck around when she makes a promise to meet with you, you know that, she knows that, others might not, but you do

When she doesn't answer your calls and texts, you get worried, eventually you went out of your apartment to go and track her down, you know a few places she'd always be at

When you find her in a tight situation, in a dark alleyway, just a few blocks away from home, as it looks like she was on the way back to you, you felt frustrated as you watched three big, tall guys who clearly had a bit to drink pick on her

Vi had fought the worst of the worst, you know that, but you weren't having it

She didn't let you join in on fighting, scared for you, she worries sick, that she might lose you, but she doubts you enough, you know it wasn't doubt though, she just cared

She cared so much

It was a surprise when she saw you running at full speed at one of the guys and taking a huge hit when he got a hand of you, shoving you off, vi was pissed

Anger was all she felt as she kicked all of their asses

She was muttering while checking in on you, she patched you up and took care of you, making sure you were okay, in her eyes, she couldn't help but admit that it was hot, and that made her fall in love harder with you

Jinx;

Jinx had always been the one to fight for herself

She wasn't used to others stepping in, unless it was for work

Like if silco had ordered them too go with her, that wouldn't make a difference

Jinx was always going to be doing everything herself, that was until you came into her life, when everything went shit when silco died, you were her light

And Isha

You two meant more to her than she could ever imagine

She began to look forward to tomorrow

The one time you, Isha, jinx all decided to go out for an adventure, she wanted to impress you with her new projects that she was working on, you always listened to her ramble and she liked it, not many people did aside from sevika, Isha and you

Though sevika just tolerated it

Everything was going perfect, when a group of idiots came out and she didn't even have all of her fancy weapons on her, the one time she doesn't, because she just wanted to have fun with her favorite people, she was actually enjoying herself, which why she got so angry when they attacked

She knows she's got plenty of enemies, that's nothing new, but what she doesn't like is when any of them go for Isha or you, you two shouldn't be involved in this, even though you and her are together together, you were more vulnerable now

She was amazed by you

What she didn't expect was to watch you stand in front of her and take a huge hit to the face just when she was handling the guys her way, that caught her off balance

She raged at them

Once she was done with them, she took your hands as she was filled with worry, her anxiety buzzing, her thoughts too loud, thinking the worst, Isha helped you stand up, she also looked concerned, wondering what had happened, why you got hurt

Jinx didn't waste anytime pressing a kiss to your lips as she took you home with Isha alongside her

Sevika;

Sevika just wanted to take you out on a nice date, as best as she could offer, she knows you'd appreciate it regardless, but she wanted to give you everything she could

You had made everything better for her the moment you stepped into her life, she wanted to do you good

The date was going perfectly, just the way she had planned, it wasn't often sevika was pleased with herself, but tonight you looked good enough to eat

Just when everything was going fine, someone had to ruin it

Someone who was upset with her

Sevika knew she made a name for herself, people knew her, they weren't always the nicest

Usually just wanted to try and fight her, to see if they'd beat her, they never do, it ends up written on all their faces

But of course, her first date with you got interrupted, and Sevika wasn't having it when this guy was trying so hard to get with you, she hated how uncomfortable you looked, he didn't even recognize her there the entire time as she stared him down with a cold glare, she made her presence known

He looked flabbergasted at the sight of sevika having a date with someone like you, you two were different, sure, she didn't care what others think, especially if they targeted you

You said you were used to it, guys coming up and flirting with you, making gross comments, she wasn't having it, she didn't care how used to it you were

"are you done here?" Sevika asked, taking a bite of a cherry as you watched, admiring her, she smirked at you.

The guy huffs, unimpressed, "the fuck are you doing here, bitch?" He slurred, leaning closer.

The moment you heard him call her a bitch, you immediately stood up, as the both of them got heated, fast, you know sevika doesn't back down from a fight for anyone, especially a sloppy motherfucker like him who runs his stupid mouth

You spotted him getting closer and raiding his hand at her, no, you weren't going to have tonight end up blood spilt, as hot as that'd be, you wanted your date to be perfect

Just before he could even punch your Sevika, you were able to get in between them fast, his hand hitting hard on your check as you fell against her front

She stared at you with wide eyes, and raged at the guy

She knew you didn't want her fighting anyone on your date, but that set her off

The pain stung as you knew it was gonna bruise, fuck, but you wanted to make sure it wasn't always her getting the first hit

He ended up on the floor, passed out fast

Sevika had you in her arms, kissing you rough, you tasted blood, it was everything, she never looked more beautiful as she stared at you with so much love

"I'm gonna treat you so good, baby."

Tonight was far from over

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Three

also available on AO3 and Quotev | visit first tag to find other chapters | warnings: pre- s1 (for now), mentions of pregnancy (you’re not the one who’s pregnant dont worry), smoking

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Three:

Caring for Alice had proved harder than you’d expected. You needed places to leave her while you went out to run errands too- the enforcers had quit looking for her, assuming she was dead.

You’d grown closer to Vander too, and Felicia, through Silco. A day or two whining at the bar had resulted in Vander offering to keep her at the bar during the day.

You narrowed your eyes at him, swirling your straw around in your cup before taking a long sip. Felicia put her hand on your shoulder.

“It’s fine, [name]. Vander’s good with kids.” She flashed you a toothy grin. You slowly exhaled, not moving to shrug her hand off. You peered over the counter to see Alice with her back pressed to the inside of the bar, scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Fine, I guess. But don’t let her out.”

“You know it’s calm during the day. She’ll be fine.”

“Not a foot outside the building.”

Silco stepped out from the back, a book clutched in his hand. You looked at him, studying his face slowly. 

“How about you tell me.” You flicked your head towards him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Should I leave Alice here during the day?”

He grinned, and you could see his chipped tooth. “She’ll be fine here.”

That reassured you, and you quickly took another long sip from your drink.

So it was decided. While you went out to make whatever money you could, instead of locking Alice up in your tiny apartment you left her at the Last Drop, where Vander and Felicia would keep an eye on her.

You stood up, the barstool scraping, and went round to Alice. “Come on. It’s time to go home.” She stood up, handing you the crumpled piece of paper. It was a drawing of you both.

“This is lovely,” you cooed as you led her out of the bar, flashing the three a grateful smile as the door shut. And you took her home.

Over time you’d grown a maternal love for her. She kept your lonely self company, when Silco wasn’t around. And Felicia and Vander just weren’t the same. Seated in your cold apartment, you brushed through her tangled hair, shared a mediocre dinner, and went to bed.

Tangled in the sheets for warmth, she clutched your shirt. “Is mommy coming back?” She mumbled, half asleep yet still wide eyed. A sharp stab of guilt tore at your chest.

“No,” you whispered, and wrapped your arm around her, burying her into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you my mommy now?” Her voice was so small it broke your heart even more.

“Yes baby,” you reassured her. “You have me now.”

You both fell asleep.

-

“She thinks I’m her mother now.”

You took a drag of the cigarette, looking out over the rooftops. The sky was clear, azure blue hanging over you both like a blanket. Silco side-eyed you, reaching for the cigarette.

You turned and blew smoke in his face, making him recoil, and laughed at his face. He indignantly snatched the cigarette from you and took a flustered drag on it.

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I-“ you stared at him. “I don’t know. I guess I… stepped up.”

“Certainly,” he drawled, smoke wafting through the hair. You scooted closer to him and reached for the cigarette, fingers closing around his. He looked at you.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said quietly. “You’re sure she’s safe with Vander?”

He smiled softly, and let you take the cigarette from his hands. “I’m sure.”

“If anything happens to her, I’ll kill myself.”

The heavy words escaped you so easily you hardly noticed. Silco flinched, and put a hand on your knee, chuckling nervously.

“Please don’t.”

Your eyes flew to his hand. He snatched it away.

“Where have you been, Silco?” You asked, voice dropping low again. “I haven’t seen you in a week. And that hair-“ you moved to brush a lock of hair obscuring part of his face. “It’s getting in the-…”

He stared at you. “What?”

“Where did this come from?” You lightly poked the bruise, and he flinched, snapping his head away. “Silco.”

“You know people get into scrapes. It’s fine.”

“Right, but you don’t. And this looks bad.” Your fingertips traced down his cheekbone to the cut across his jaw.

“It’s fine, [name].” He grabbed your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“Just promise you’ll be safe.” You took a drag of the cigarette.

“Of course I do.”

You blew the smoke in his face and he frowned.

“Promise.”

He sighed, relenting. “I promise I’ll be safe.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and offered him the cancer stick. “Good,” you hummed contentedly, feeling him tense then relax beneath your cheek as he gingerly plucked it from your fingers.

You weren’t sure if he was holding up on the promise.

Days after that he’d return with more bruises, or simply not show up at all. You would stay up on the roof until it was time for you to leave, and wouldn’t find him at the Last Drop either. Vander and Felicia were rather unhelpful considering his whereabouts, and he refused to speak of them. Another evening of waiting on the roof, he arrived late.

You sat up, watching him slightly shake as he dropped down next to you. His lip was split.

“Silco.” Your voice was strained.

“What?” He sounded slightly breathless. “I made it.”

“What are you getting yourself into?” Your voice shook, and he blanched, shocked at the genuine worry in your tone. “Tell me the truth.”

“[name], I…”

“Please. You promised me.”

After a long moment of studying your face, he sighed. “You can’t tell anyone, [name].” You circled your arms around his.

“I won’t,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“I… I’m a member of a-“ he cleared his throat. “Resistance group.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Children of Zaun.”

He didn’t say anything more. You sat up straight, pulling away from him. “That’s it?” Your voice was a dangerous whisper. “That’s all you’ll tell me?”

“For your safety.” He sounded urgent. 

You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. In truth, your heart was pounding with fear. For him. But then you nodded.

“Don’t die. If anything happens to you, I’ll kill myself.”

He seemed so sick at hearing those words you figured it would be enough to keep him cautious. 

“Now let me bum a cigarette.”

He relaxed, then chuckled, pulling out a pack. “You’ve bled me dry.”

“Don’t run dry then.” You watched as he placed one between his lips, and held out your lighter. He leaned into the flame. Pulled away. The lighter snapped shut. Inhaled. Moved the cigarette from his lips.

And blew the smoke in your face.

You coughed, shocked. “You- you bastard!”

But he was laughing.

You laughed too.

You leaned back into him. He let you.

“I know how much Zaun means to you,” you whispered. “I know you want a better place for the next generations.” You looked up at him, eyes saying one thing. But please be safe.

He stayed silent, looking back at you. And then he spoke softly. “Felicia’s pregnant.”

You sat up. “What?”

He grinned and nodded.

“Then- then who’s the father?”

“Connol.”

“Silco… this is…”

He looked at your unsure expression, and then held out the cigarette. “It’s good.”

You nodded. “It’s great.”

[taemcains]

your love is sunlight — cainlane

lane helps cain wash the blood off his wings and gets a thank you in return. ao3

cw: blood mentions

🎧 julia shortreed - broken wings

Pale golden light streams into Lane's shared room, falling on the soft carpet in a mosaic mirroring the elegant swirls on the balcony door. The picture of coziness it creates, along with the spread of reference books spilled like a domino of cards around her, brings her back to high school and days spent cramming for exams with the spring sunshine in North Carolina watching over her like a guardian.

The tremors of a door slamming shut on the ground floor dispel the mirage. Lane blinks hard, bringing herself back to Rotkov's eternal winter and her task, which is considerably more crucial and much more demanding than memorizing chemistry equations.

The Book and her notebook are each balanced precariously on her knees. Reference books lay further down from her, tossed away in rising frustration. Her wrist aches and her back has been steadily cramping from her abysmal posture, but she remains hunched over, picking up her trail of thought and leaving behind unnecessary memories to continue scrawling in her notebook.

Shadows pool on the floor, chasing away the imitation of home and warmth. Lane's head whips up to face the balcony, hair lashing against her back.

White obscures gold. It flashes once, painting the room cold before swerving to the back of the estate.

Real warmth bubbles up in her chest. Cain is back from his night patrol.

Lane spent all of ten minutes in the morning trying to inconspicuously grill the squad about his whereabouts before her mind grew disgusted by her pathetic state. Cain is an immortal. Whatever stalks the forest and whoever hides in the town should be, are, terrified of him. Worrying about someone who can handle himself, when she has a plethora of problems is fatuous. She resolved to put it out of her mind and surrender to the Book instead.

An hour later, huddled under every blanket and comforter looted from her room, the upholstered chair doing little to battle the cold, she muses. Why do you become so irrational when you… have someone? Her hand is unsteady, fingers trembling from the cold, but she makes a valiant effort to jot something down.

Anna shoots her the most judgmental glance she's received in her life. ‘Why are you freezing to death near the balcony when the bed is right there?’

Lane tries to shrug but she doubts the slight movement would be visible under ten layers of wool. ‘The cold will keep my mind awake. I could get a new perspective on the Book.’

Anna almost looks offended at how little thought Lane put into lying to her. She scoffs. ‘Is that what they're calling it now?’ She scowls at a distant spot in the sky, willing the extent of her disdainful glare to reach that angel wherever he is, before turning on her heel and leaving, muttering about ‘beautiful women falling for idiot men’ and ‘why do you never learn, Anna?’

Her mind doesn't linger too long on Anna, but circles him, as always, a whirlpool of memories and longings. She tried to choke down her worry along with mouthfuls of tea earlier, but it spews up with a redoubled vengeance. No matter how many times her exasperated mind reassures her of the angel's strength and safety, her heart refuses to quiet, pacing anxiously with a thump-thump-thump echoing through her very bones.

Are you satisfied? Everyone wants to know whether I even have a heart anymore but you keep it, toss it, and catch it with the dizzying speed of your changing whims. I don't miss that. But I miss you.

Admitting that she missed him was apparently the last straw for her mind, who was jeering at this display of yearning. Lane leapt to her feet, yanked around by the strings of her rational mind that was hard at work to erase this maudlin moment from her day. She climbed into bed, pulled the required materials to herself like a shield and lost herself in the arcane, her mind alight and awake, ready to beat her heart into submission.

Now she allows herself to exhale a shameful ‘I missed you’ to the knowing shadows of her room and let relief unfurl through her bloodstream like a ribbon.

All the romance novels and movies she'd gorged herself on in her teenage years with the relished humiliation of crawling back to an unfaithful lover, had painted love in pink, soft and bloodless. But for Lane, love is a violent intrusion, spinning her mind and heart out of control. If she'd known she would feel so foolish, she would've accumulated more experience, to chart cumulative data and predict the best response in any situation. But Cain's not like anyone she's ever met. He's not like anyone at all.

Plotting Cain would be an impossible task as he shifts a little every time she sees him, a kaleidoscope that never shows the same pattern twice. But won't he let her try? To map his impossibilities across a lifetime like counting stars in the night sky, the only futile task she wants to squander away her time on with the languidness of summer days slipping away.

Contrary to his own impossibility, he seems to have her entirely mapped out, tracing the rivers of her veins with his fingertips and the ridges of her spine with his eyes. She didn't have to ask. Cain understood her, like he once promised, and her working style which he condensed aptly as ‘You wouldn't look up from the Book unless there's a second apocalypse.’ So his wings blinked at her, sending her a sign.

Was he counting on her being able to glimpse the maelstrom of riddles behind every guileless movement of his? Delivered with a susurration of his wings, an order, a request, or the gentle luring of a lover: Come find me.

His wishes are clear, but Lane hesitates, out of her own warring desires. Her heart is almost halfway out the door, straining to settle sleepily against his voice, but her feet remain planted to the floor, roots extending through wood, bypassing time and space, sprouting out of her father's office.

Wood polish. Expensive leather. An angular man leaning over her seven-year-old self. ‘Please do not bother me when I'm working, Lane. Go see to your mother.’ Which was perhaps the greatest condemnation of all, her own father who could not see her mother's umbilical cord strangling her lovingly around her neck, a tie she could never rid of even two decades later.

The memory fractures. Warmth beckons her from the fissure and she follows as if ensorcelled. The press of a thigh to her own. The specter of fingers through her hair. The fracture widens. The tickling of feathers against the small of her back. Her father's office and her younger self preserved in contrition are swallowed into the dark.

The last fragments of the memory are brushed away by an ambrette voice that lifts her and carries her back to the body of her present self, gently setting her down in reality. Tendrils of him and his essence are already curled around her, sweetpea flowers budding around her neck, watching over her when he can't.

Glimpses of him in her memories don't appease her. Lately, even his fleeting touches, light enough to absolve him of intention, do nothing to sate the hunger roiling in her. Come find me.

Guided, or rather, misguided, by the reckless abandon that entangles with desire, Lane crosses the room and doesn't let herself hesitate to wrench the door open. Her eyes hone in on the ornate door at the far end of the hallway, quiet and anodyne.

The estate is still, the history of those hallowed halls, almost a physical presence draped heavy over her shoulders, watching as Lane's hushed footsteps ghost over the floor. She knows her efforts are in vain; he must've heard the click of her door opening, but it felt sacrilegious to stomp over in an estate teeming with revenants.

She comes to a standstill outside his door, heart awake and thrashing. He could probably hear it through the wood, no barrier fortified to the aching of her heart to be a plaything in his hands again. But he waits, lets her settle on going to him or turning away.

She knocks lightly.

‘Come in.’ His voice, smooth and even, with the barest drops of an emotion she couldn't identify, sends a trickle of reassurance down her chest.

Ominous that the creaking of the door is, when Lane peers inside, gingerly stepping past the threshold like an inexperienced thief, Cain is whole and unhurt, lips curving up as salve to her twinging unease. Her heart finally rests.

As relief streams through her blood, her eyes cascade down his figure intently. Silvery fabric molds to his skin, translucent where pearls of water trickle from the damp ends of his hair. Black slacks cling enticingly to his thighs, every slight shift flaunting the statuesque lines of his body. His wings flare, serrated edges silhouetted by daylight, a personal sunset.

Her eyes widen. Cain, who was watching her riveted gaze with a touch of satisfaction pulling up the corner of his mouth, interjected smoothly. ‘It's not mine. A spawn was found close to city lines.’

‘Is that what you were busy with all morning?’ She asks, alarm fading into distraction. Blood lashed against white wings, macabre and ethereal. Offsetting, Lane thinks, no, enhancing temptation, disoriented by her own strange desires.

‘Yes.’ His voice dips, softness melting it. ‘Were you alone for long?’

‘No,’ she answers absentmindedly, eyes transfixed to the startlingly intimate sight of his bare feet. Unarmoured like this, without the chainmail of his condescending sneer and paradoxical words, he seems closer than ever. Like she would only need to reach out for her fingertips to graze soft skin and sculpted muscle, obscured to the rest by shadows and secrets.

Appeased, he turns to the side, pushing back his drenched sleeves around his elbow. Only then does the room start to come together in snatches. Clothes strewn across the carpeted floor, his jacket a bloodied heap by the balcony, transponder thrown on the bedside table. A basin with murky water seated on the dresser, a rag dangling haphazardly from it. Precise to him, messy to others. Not unlike the owner himself, she thinks.

Satisfied with her appraisal, she peeks over at him. Leaning over the basin, rag coiled loosely around his hand, he looks half sunken in a dream. Only the rustling of his wings betray his restlessness.

Her spine is yanked straight by a part of her, a phantom cerebrum spawned to gauge and dissect every shift in his body and every quirk of his mouth. Cain would never allow himself to be so absent. Her heart screeches with alarm, and her mind reluctantly allows the theatrics, admitting the oddness of his behavior.

‘Cain?’ she calls quietly.

Regret follows almost immediately. At the most inopportune moment, she realizes she has no idea how to proceed when he responds. Cain has always taken care of her in his own absurd way, the experience irksome even as the memory fills her empty soul with sunlight. But Lane could hardly care for herself, much less an immortal.

His lashes flutter, moth wings skimming his skin as he blinks out of his daze. ‘Sorry, I was lost in thought.’ His eyes clear, latches clicking shut inside him. ‘I should clean my wings.’ They flick, avouching his words. ‘Not exactly the amorous activity you were envisioning, I'm sure.’

Her eyes narrow but they cannot lance metal. He meets her scouring gaze with calculated repose. His shoulders sink, memories imploding within, then return to their usual assured set, dust settling in the span of a blink.

Only a second, but it's enough for Lane to pry at the chips in his marmoreal mask. She sighs softly as slivers of his bare face come into view. He's… tired. So, so tired. Abandoned by heaven, shunned by earth, untouchable on his altar of divinity. Angel, priest, soldier. Beautiful as a statue, but who dares to touch him? Who can he hold?

Sensing the weight of her thoughts, he straightens imperceptibly, shuttering off any weakness.

Even now, after hurting and helping and licking their wounds, they still hesitate, circling each other like sharks scenting blood, the instinct to hurt before getting hurt honed and layered like second skin, excruciating to rip off. But they can't keep holding onto an infected limb that devours the rest of the body. Years of violent instinct wars with a fragile, blossoming ache.

The words spill out of her lips, noxious blood evanescing, her first breath without her own violence pressing down on her sweet and fresh. ‘Let me help.’

His eyes snap back to hers and lock their gazes. Narrowed, assessing, wary, they're as entrancing as ever. He sighs, the same side emerging victorious in him. ‘I'll give you a chance to back out. I'm warning you now that your arms will ache for the next week.’

‘I won't come complaining to you,’ she says dryly, the secret curve of his mouth sending a flurry of warmth through her.

He follows her lead, effortlessly carrying the basin to an empty spot in the center of the room, sunlight casting the illusion of warmth on the rug. He sets it down and folds himself into a cross-legged posture, somehow elegant even while sitting on the floor.

Lane follows suit, kneeling behind him on the plush carpet. She ties her hair back into a loose knot and pulls back her sleeves, goosebumps arising on her exposed skin immediately. She shivers, body noting the frigidity of his room while she herself is enraptured by the angel.

This close to him, the diaphanous material of his shirt coyly divulges flashes of his body. The slope of his shoulder blade. A channel down his lower back. The sylphlike curve of his waist. Lane exhales slowly, expelling the need to touch him and trace his skin. The intoxicating heat radiating off him doesn't abate the desire to drape herself over his back and see what he'd do.

‘Having second thoughts? Maybe your delicate arms hurt already?’

She rolls her eyes, abruptly breaking through for air. The same person who tenderly drowns her in the thick, languid ocean of desire also hauls her out of it with his infuriating quips.

He slides the basin over to her in reparation.

Experimentally dipping her fingers into the basin, she sighs with relief at the lukewarm water. She dunks the rag in, drenches it, and pauses, water dripping rhythmically onto the floor, lapped up by the carpet. How sensitive are his wings? She remembers the library incident with a quivering in her stomach, the idea of her touch making him still heady more than any wine or pomegranate juice. How hard can she use the rag on them?

His voice is glazed with amusement. ‘This feels familiar. Now is the time to ask me if I'm gloating.’

That settles it. ‘Why should I when I know the answer?’ she replies as she presses the rag to the base of his wing agonizingly gently. He jerks, the beginnings of a low gasp escaping past his teeth before he quiets, wings flaring.

Lane bites her lip to rein in a smirk, throat going dry at the noise and where else she'd like to hear it, again and again.

‘Have it your way, then. Is this payback for that time in the library?’ he retorts, shoulders unnaturally tense.

‘What do you mean?’ she says lightly, carefully moving the rag from the base to the top. His wings rustle and flick, but settle quietly.

A light laugh floats through the air, melding seamlessly with this impossible afternoon.

Cain stays quiet as she works her way through the large expanse, occasionally trembling as she grazes certain spots. She makes mental notes of them, for future reference. Or for leverage.

Her nose wrinkles as she nears the tip of his wing. Spawn gore clumps to the feathers, a sickly sweet smell emanating from the blood.

Cain almost whirls around at her first cough. ‘I'll deal with the rest. You've done enough.’

She waves him off. Before she could think it over again, her hand cups his shoulder, turning him away. A tremor goes through her at her boldness, the heat of his muscle and bone against her fingers warming her entire arm.

‘You reek,’ she says airily, only to douse the incalescence of his gaze, burning her more than his skin as she touched him like she had the right to.

‘Who came to whose room?’

A gradual undoing, Lane watches as her own hands cast magic, turning back time, water swilling blood from his wings, leaching them pure and white.

She retraces her path, returning to the base of his wings where stubborn flecks of blood linger on the feathers. Faltering for just a second, she discards the rag. Her fingers, a gentler heir, glide over the plumage, outsing sanguine settlers.

Cain arches like a cat, allowing himself a muffled moan before rebounding, curving into her. A shuddering breath is the only movement she shows. His back barely brushes her front, the faint contact sparking a riot in her head, one side chanting lean in close, closer, the other pull away I can't breathe anymore.

As the sun drops lower into the sky, in tandem he sinks lower onto her, the silky strands of his hair chilling her chin, the weight of his body warm and comforting. His initial wariness washed away with the blood, he's as cozy and relaxed as a housecat dozing in a patch of sunlight.

Disappointment unfurls petals inside her chest as the last of the blood is wiped away, wings gleaming in the sunlight. Enveloped by him, his body, his scent; sweet and faintly musky, entirely him with the effect it had of wanting to fall headlong into his lies, time has no meaning. The world waiting with ravenous jaws holds no importance when he's quiet and boneless in her arms.

‘Cain?’ she whispers, unsure if he's awake.

‘Hmm?’

Her toes curl into the carpet. His usual liquid smooth voice has been rendered low and thick, drowsiness dipping his tone.

She hesitates. Is it worth jolting him from his place against her—as it should be, her heart croons— for her selfish desire of wanting to look at him?

Ironically, it's her indecision that awakens him, alertness seeping back in. He slips out of her hold, a gentle thief escaping into the night, and turns to face her. ‘What is it?’ he asks, traces of worry playing in his voice.

I wish I could look at you when I want to without searching for an excuse. I wish you would keep being near to me. I want you to keep seeing me.

‘Nothing,’ she bites out, frustrated with herself, eyes catching on an anomaly in the blinding purity of snow. ‘There's dried blood crusted in your hair.’

He sighs, mindlessly patting his hair, completely missing the spot.

‘Let me,’ she interrupts quietly, pieces falling into place, desire breathing her wishes to life.

He eyes her curiously. Whatever he finds makes his mouth twitch and obediently lower his head, submitting to the ministrations of her fingers. A thrill fires through her like an arrow. She quite likes the idea of him bowed and hazy-eyed in front of her.

Her fingers ease into silken strands, white and gold playing on her skin. They trail unwillingly, longing to linger and straighten the wisps hanging over his eyes for him. She flicks the rusty flakes off, careful to not tug at the strands.

Hyperaware of every steady inhale and exhale of his, her own breathing wavers, growing shallow. She attempts to veer her attention back to his hair, instead of the proximity of her chest to his face, when his arm curves around her waist, long fingers splaying out, burning her from rib to hip.

Before she could steady herself to this, him, his thumb traces the jut of her rib. All coherent thought dissipates. Heat whirls up her insides. His fingers trail teasingly over the curve of her waist before stilling on her hip, and she wishes with sudden, fervent clarity that he would play on her skin. Be so familiar to him that he would reach for her to ease his restlessness, her hipbone echoing his music, instead of an undeserving slab of wood.

‘Your knees must hurt. Sit.’ He sounds from below her, words almost breathed into her throat. His voice lowers, a surrender just between them. ‘I can bow down for you.’

She lowers her eyes to his. A misstep. Hazy from sleep, sharp in the corners, sunlight sands down his usual jagged gaze and wicked smirk, turning him into a visage of heaven. Angelic, she thinks for the first time since she awoke to him, both at the rift and at the estate.

Cain has always been inhumanely beautiful from the moment she saw him glowing like an impossible mirage amidst blood and snow, but his beauty is almost unbearable now that she's seen the planes of that same untouchable face contort in anger, slacken in tiredness, soften in fondness. Every feature has been slashed into her mind since their first meeting, but he's a mystery she'll never tire of. She studies each detail with the same fascination as the first time.

Gold clings to every lash with the devotion of the sea returning to sand. Dawn rises in his eyes, the only place where she looks forward to sunrise. Cheekbones like cliffs, sweetpea pink lips. Twin moles wink at her from below his eye and cheek, a taunt mirrored in his eyes: What will you do now?

He tilts his head up, her hand that lay forgotten in his hair sliding down like rain. Brow bone, cheekbone, till the base of her palm curves against his jaw.

She's holding his face in her hand. What will you do now?

Her eyes hesitatingly find his again. The same eyes that speared into her being, trying to unravel her before she could undo him, that held and kept all his secrets, now betray him and look at her with undisguised tenderness. His gaze is the only mirror she can stand to look at herself anymore, her callousness and apathy smoothed over by his affection.

She loops her free arm around his neck, feeling his shoulders tense in surprise. In no reality will she come out of this unscathed. But would it be worth being hurt by these same hands that hold so gently?

Her eyes flit to his lips. Oh, but it would be worth being condemned to hell by this mouth. His lips part, luring her in before the din of doors slamming and a chorus of intermingling voices shatters their retreat.

Lane is off the floor and three feet away from him before he could even blink. His tenderness ripples into a scowl. His eyes glint a lurid red as he rises to his feet.

‘I should go,’ she says hastily, impatient to curse every member of the squad and then pore over every second of this afternoon before it dissipates like a dream.

‘And where are you rushing off to?’ he asks, notes of ire lurking in his voice.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘My room. I don't think the General will be pleased about me spending quality time with you instead of working.’

His mouth curls in derision. ‘If Dmitry's concern is incompetence, you're the least of his problems.’

His tone gives her pause. The second she tilts her head, his cool nonchalance snaps back into place, clicking shut with the finality of a lock.

‘I'll get going,’ she echoes before her heart could rope her into some foolish scheme. ‘Will you go to sleep now?’

‘Yes.’ He pauses, eyes sliding to her, lingering on her exposed collarbone. His voice lowers, softens, a snake coiling around flesh and she feels his words like he whispered them onto her skin. ‘Will you miss this opening?’

Her heart jolts. He can't possibly be…?

‘To watch me sleep again.’ He tilts his head innocuously, the effect offset by his growing smirk. ‘What were you thinking?’

Entirely unhelpfully, her mind bestows her with a visual. She thinks of him asleep, cheek pillowed by his arm, lashes casting needle-thin shadows, his ever-furrowed brows relaxed and a physical burn flares to life under her ribs.

She knits her brow in irritation, saving face too late, hastening to leave. The Cain who curved into her like the moon, who she'd christened angelic had fallen asleep, dreaming in some crevice of his mind. The one who stands in front of her, challenge highlighted in every plane of his face, is familiar, familiar and dangerous, familiar in a sense that she could hardly guess his next thought.

Just as her hand wraps around the door handle, she senses his searing presence behind her. Her body reacts instinctively, gearing up. Cain sends all of her emergency responses into overdrive, fight, flight, and fight speeding and crashing at the junction of her mind. All thoughts come to a screeching halt, leaving only expectant silence, air thrumming with possibilities. A discordant note or a lilting melody?

His fingers curl around her wrist, a gossamer touch. He lowers his head while raising her wrist, night falling as the moon rises to meet as a sunset, as a kiss. His cool breath snakes across her skin, travelling the course set by her veins, the faint brushes of his lips blissful torture.

A marionette in his hands, he angles her wrist to his mouth, setting the stage. The first act: the bite of his teeth against her pulse.

Her shoulders seize and she bites her lip, the blooming pain-pleasure shoving a gasp back inside her mouth. He presses, so gently, an invisible divot to savor and linger over at night, an ephemeral mark of him on her skin.

Can he feel her hand trembling? Her knees will give out if he continues.

In answer, in tender defiance, he scrapes his teeth across her pulse point, shrapnel and velvet, mouth feverishly hot, teeth deliciously sharp. Her spine jerks, pulled by his strings, aching to lean against his body. A low noise escapes her before she could haul it inside.

He halts, knowing when to coax with hardly a look, pulling her along to freefall into desire, another line they can never uncross, and when to let her be. He presses a full kiss to soothe her skin, before the curtain falls with a delicate graze of his lips over the faded cut on her palm.

He pulls back and she blinks as the world rushes in, both the celebrated principal actress and the dazed, breathless audience. He lowers her wrist gently, fingers falling away like the night. ‘Thank you,’ he says quietly with no trace of the smugness she was expecting.

She could hardly remember what she replied or how she stole away into the hallway. Half her mind still trembling in that room with him, the other half lazily waking up from a pleasant dream, she muses as she stumbles to her room.

The weight of the emptiness in her soul is always lurking, always ready to drag her into nothingness. Being around others only seems to chip away the remnants of her soul clinging to her insides; their strained laughter, easy anger and human hope shattered mirror shards reflecting the humanity long gouged out of her. You are not like us. Each irregular mosaic amplified till the message was deafening. You are not like us!

But as she stood in the hallway, vision golden with dust motes swirling around in a lazy waltz in the ballroom of sunlight, her soul is… silent. Not clamoring in its depleted state, begging to find its stolen half and fill it up. Cain's mere presence lifts this particular veil of half death, making her heart pumping in lazy disinterest startle awake, having to work overtime to make up for her lungs slacking.

Though she was the one who wished to lighten his burden today, it seemed he was imbuing her with his own life force with every touch. A thirst for life, and just not survival, gasped for air within her, only to see him again, to touch him again and make him tremble.

The corner of her mouth twitches as she turns the handle.

She has to find a way to get him back for that kiss.

[joejhang]

every insane thing that happened in arcane season 2 act 2 (spoilers)

isha. (don't SPEAK to me don't TOUCH me don't mention it i'm crashing out)

VANDER???? (bro...i'm losing it.)

caitvi reunion how we feeling (they have a LOT to work thru next act bro)

jayce when i catch you jayce (i mean ok we don't exactly know why he did it but like EVERYTHING WAS GOING SO WELL)

guys i think jayvik broke up fr this time

caitlyn redemption arc i'm holding out hope (JUST bc she saved vi doesn't mean she doesn't have inherently discriminatory views and her actions didn't majorly affect others i could write essays about her)

ambessa...girl tf

MEL WHAT'S GOIN ON

dude where is ekko and heimerdinger they're like my unproblematic faves

VI AND JINX OH MY GOD DON'T TALK TO ME (the way i was sobbing my fucking eyes out when they finally reconnected like sisters. goodBYE. i can't do it. i'm losing touch with reality. they better be going strong next act)

on that note JINX...MY GIRL. MY BABY. (i can't do it it's the way she's lost probably the person who mattered most to her just then. i'm gonna lose it. i'm gonna lose it! hahaha doing great NO because we were going so strong I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH THEY COULD'VE JUST BEEN A FAMILY ambessa when i catch you ambessa)

the flashbacks to vander and silco and felicia...that was pretty uncalled for (the watercolour shit was the last straw bro)

lowk disappointed we didn't get more of pitfighter vi but it's probably good for her mental health

also i need to like SIT vi and jinx down so they can talk things thru properly bc i feel like there's still...many unresolved issues there

if this makes jinx spiral and disconnect with vi again i might kms

jinx about to flip off sevika but forgetting she lost her finger is lowk sending me

jinx is so much calmer this season bro GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK

so is viktor like...dead

dude where is sevika i like how she just disappeared girl tf

also sevika WHY did you cut ur hair

dude the maddie and caitlyn JUMPSCARE...the way it was like the FIRST scene too

i can feel the caitvi angst from three episodes away

the act 3 preview was insane too (JINX OH MY GOD JINX COME BACK TO ME BB)

dude is viktor like...god???

VIKTOR COME BACK TO ME UGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

on that note his new look OH MY DAYS my biggest hear me out tbh

cait commenting on vi's new hair is actually TAKING ME OUT

also vi calling her "cupcake" caitvi nation we are SO back

i'm gonna be real i'm more interested in jinx and vi's relationship healing than i am in caitvi WOAH WHO SAID THAT

OH AND I'M SO INTERESTED TO SEE HOW CAIT AND JINX'S RELATIONSHIP IS GONNA CHANGE...THAT LITTLE CONFRONTATION AFTER JINX FOUGHT RICTUS WAS SO TENSE AHDSNBHFAHJ

dude i'm scared there's way too many loose ends to be tied up in just three eps (the black rose shit, piltover vs zaun ???, whatever tf the arcane is, ekko and heimerdinger, ambessa doing whatever tf she's doing GOD I'M SO STRESSED)

[bloodcossmos]

felt the need to compile some of my opinions and analyses on arcane s2 regarding caitvi and their development so far. I've either seen diehard vi fans calling cait a bitch or diehard caitlyn fans calling vi useless and that's just not it.

spoilers for season 2 under the cut ‼️

okay so first of all. we cannot keep ignoring the fact that cassandra's death was a determining factor for caitlyn's change of temper. she is RAGING. UNSURE. INCONSOLABLE. as any normal person would, caitlyn is deeply affected by this. it is simple, textbook grief. anyone can feel it in their lifetime, everyone is allowed to mourn. BUT‼️understanding grief does NOT mean you have to justify the coping mechanisms used to deal with it. the fact that caitlyn's first instinct after the memorial attack was to put every zaunite in a same basket and call them animals and COMPLETELY throw away all compassion and understanding she had for them in season one (even up to the first minutes of the first episode) is NOT justifiable under any means. it's the same thing in reverse; not justifying coping mechanisms used to deal with grief DOES NOT MEAN you're invalidating the grief itself.

with that out of the way, we can understand that caitlyn, one way or another, went through a MASSIVE change of character this season. we saw it all in act 1. she was no longer the "good cop trying to fight the system from the inside and show the privileged how truly privileged they are by standing for the lowest ones' rights." the only thing in her mind was REVENGE. GETTING JINX TO PAY FOR HER ACTIONS AT WHATEVER COST. releasing toxic gasses into zaun and risking hundreds of innocents at a time to possible death by exposure? we all know, by common sense, IT'S NOT A GOOD THING TO DO. OBVIOUSLY. but she cannot; she's blinded by grief, blinded by rage. and it's gonna be even more evident in episode 3, when her and vi's kiss and, shortly after, breakup, happen.

this blindness towards others' feelings and opinions and only caring about the end goal— killing jinx— is what causes their falling out. vi, despite being COMPLETELY alienated from her principles and her people for the sole purpose of helping out her girl (impulsed by jinx's violence towards the council, which was the final nail in powder's coffin), understands that there can be a risk of killing an innocent: isha. she stops her. she's not happy about that. bombs go off prematurely. they're stuck between rubble and the frustration bubbled up caitlyn's throat and it comes out TERRIBLY. not just verbally, by saying her blood is in your veins— as if IMMEDIATELY condemning her— but also physically in the worst way possible. a full circle moment, if you ask me; hit in the same place she was stabbed, by the same person that helped heal her. full blown drama. lesbians are really something.

by the start of act 2, caitlyn is not just a hurting and grieving woman in a position of power, where all the weight of house kiramman falls on her shoulders; she's also a commander. which is... twice as much power in her hands. but the difference is that she's not acting on her own now, to satiate her own bloodlust and revenge. she's now hanging by threads, like a puppet controlled by none other than ambessa medarda. a ruthless warmonger who wants nothing but full influence over a broken woman to achieve her own goals in piltover. we saw it at the end of act 1; she was the one who instigated the attack on the memorial, which could be considered as the last straw for caitlyn's sanity. she took advantage of that weakness to further consolidate her hatred and biases against the undercity and, in consequence, be able to provide some sort of solace for her aching heart. and what better than to have such an influential woman like caitlyn as her protege; her pupil, if you will.

but of course, the point of writing such nuanced characters like the ones in arcane is that... they're not just one-dimensional. or even two-dimensional; like a stationary cardboard figure that is either-or. no in between. no chance of reflection or redemption or regret.

caitlyn, in the time skip between end of act 1 and beginning of act 2, starts to worry about the excessive occupation of noxian forces in piltover and zaun and how they're handling things. she goes as far as to question ambessa as to "why is peace always the justification for violence?". this inherently shows FEELINGS. she's EXPRESSING DOUBT. like any other human being, caitlyn goes through it; questioning the excessive use of force in zaunite checkpoints and how the noxian warlord justifies it all because they've lost so many. as if zaun hasn't lost innocents and guilty alike. this, obviously, leads caitlyn to a middle path, which is the one we see her in until episode 3, where her allegiance changes completely in the span of... a couple hours?

why is that though? first, we gotta talk about vi.

inevitably.

she's been the most hurt character in this show, for sure. thrown around like a punching bag for everyone to use, she's been broken since day one. lost her parents at an early age, had to take care of her little sister even though she was taken in by vander and raised with two other boys; then proceeds to lose her found family, hits powder out of impulse (because HOW ELSE would you want a 15 year-old to react to something like that while the wound is still raw? "don't worry powder, you disobeyed me and caused an explosion that killed our family but it's okay, let's go home and eat something I'm starving" WHAT????) that ends up marking her for the rest of her life right before getting thrown into prison by a crooked cop and spending the next seven years in a cell; cold, bloody, hungry, counting the hours until she could get back to her sister.

yet after she gets released, she finds warmth for the first time in a long time: and it's in caitlyn. in a way, you can't blame her for building such an important bond with her. she was the first one to show her kindness and genuine care in a very long time and, naturally and humanly, that's gonna leave a mark on her. yet she is strong, determined, dead set on finding her sister and bringing her back; she doesn't fall easily into the comfort of love, because her heart is bleeding for the small child she slapped seven years ago and that she couldn't console or apologize to. YET, HUMANLY, she ends up lowering her defenses around her. finally, she finds someplace she feels safe with, someplace that makes her feel like anything is possible. but that place ends up being a person, and people change. inevitably.

after the attack on the council, vi tries her best to be of as much support to caitlyn as possible. she knows she's not generally welcome in topside, but nonetheless she's pushed by love to provide any comfort she can. what she wasn't expecting was to provide that comfort by turning into one of the things she despised the most: an enforcer (for those saying that it doesn't make sense for her character, you're wrong! she's put in a position where she's serving as support to caitlyn, and as support she must mold into what she needs her to be. even if it's not what aligns with her morals. yes, it wouldn't make sense if it would've been a personal decision, but in this context? absolutely). she slumps into mental darkness for a moment, wondering how inconsiderate she can be to ask her to be something so opposite to her nature when maddie comes to her and outright guilt-trips her into accepting caitlyn's proposal. personally, I have no idea if she was sent by cait beforehand to manipulate her into doing it, but seeing as we haven't been given an explanation for that I'll assume it was fully maddie's doing. and like that, vi accepts to the total alienation from her morals that entails becoming a cop for the sake of her lover.

things go awry. we all know how. vi feels beyond betrayed, beyond hurt, beyond alone. not just because caitlyn changed when she asked her not to (it was inevitable) but also because that safe space that she stood for is no longer there. that single hit of blunt force into her abdomen means so much more to her than just the stinging pain of the wound sevika left— the one caitlyn had healed. the moment she began to feel like she could trust her—, but more deep-rooted trauma from her years in prison. seven years getting beaten to a bloody pulp, no signs of warning, when she was at her lowest and her loneliest. do you think that, when she looked up at caitlyn, she saw her, or the faces of the enforcers that abused her?

it's a deep cut, for sure.

after that, she hits rock bottom. her self-preservation skills are null. or maybe they aren't, but she chooses not to use them. her entire life, she's been squished into the mold of the responsible one; the rock, the support, the leader, the protector. but without anyone to protect, or lead, or take care of... what's left of her? nothing but a husk of self-hatred and disappointment that she decides to fill in the most self-destructive ways. because why bother? she can't do anything right; not save her sister, nor protect her, nor hold on to anything good because everyone changed. everyone except her. maybe her heart of gold is more of a curse than a blessing.

she spirals into alcoholism, filling the void of loneliness by going to rowdy bars and getting shitfaced to distract herself from the perpetual state of pain she's in. yet caitlyn lingers in her mind. haunting her every minute of the day, making her feel miserable; yearning for that woman that was once so soft and bright. but it's not her anymore. she's dead, just like powder.

now, a lot of things happen between that moment and when she meets caitlyn again. but let's focus on their point of reunion, which a lot of people were deeming "weird" and "disrespectful" on caitlyn's end because she wasn't IMMEDIATELY tear stricken and pleading for forgiveness before giving us an hour-long makeout scene. be fucking for real.

up to that point, vi's had plenty of other things on her mind than just her ex. and believe it or not, the frustration shown during her pit fighter montage is also rage; at least, how I read it. yes, she's hallucinating images of caitlyn in her old enforcer uniform and yearning for her, but the current caitlyn? that's not her. seeing her again was not gonna cause immediate tears to well up in her eyes and consider, FOR A MOMENT, that vi's inner turmoil also contains resentment towards her. even if she did yearn for her past self. (it's funny to me how the same people that complain about vi not having any sense of autonomy because she's in love with caitlyn are often the same ones that talk about how they wanted a more emotional reunion, when the context did not call for it...)

on caitlyn's end, she doesn't break down YET... there's something in her eyes. more evident on her than on vi, I dare say. her eyes widen and soften in a way I haven't seen them in a while. that means something. and despite the apathetic remark about her hair you can tell there's hesitation. could this mean, possibly, that during all those months spent apart she's had time to reflect? regret her actions? seems to me like it does. because after all, when cupcake escapes from her lips she doesn't recoil, she doesn't frown or scoff. we see the old caitlyn again, even if just for a moment. she probably didn't know she needed to hear that from her again, but now that she did... she realizes she still cares for her.

even if this is just a personal reading of the situation, I think it's the most fitting if we're talking about normal, human interactions. the people acting like caitlyn is an unforgivable monster that has no feelings or is not capable of any self-reflection strips her entirely of her nuance. you want highly complex female characters yet you can't handle her.

another detail to add to the pile of reasons why I think caitvi is still viable is because, even though maddie had been trying to convince caitlyn time and time again to speak to ambessa to withdraw her forces, to finally take a stand... vi convinced her with just one look. in truth, she's her soft spot; she always has been. the fact that flared up emotions got a hold of her beyond rationality does not mean she can't feel regret for her actions later. it doesn't mean she's an irredeemable monster. hm, that sounds familiar. maybe... what happened after the factory explosion, seven years back?

that was just a thorough overview of what I consider is an objective opinion about both sides. caitlyn had evidently changed for the worse, and vi couldn't let go of her past self; the kinder cait, the sincere cait, the cait she fell in love with. vi has been, yet again, thrown into the chaotic claws of fate and has come out hurt once again. but does that mean the relationship is beyond salvageable? that's what act 3 is for.

do I believe that their relationship will be perfectly back to normal in just three episodes? not really. there's no time to fully heal the scars that were left to harden during act 2, but it doesn't mean there can't be redemption. do I believe a sex scene will compensate for all of that? ABSOLUTELY NOT. despite my very biased opinions on the ship and how I desperately want them to be together because my little lesbian heat can't handle otherwise, I understand from an objective perspective that things aren't easily solved through sex. I will not be considering any sexual or romantic advances valid or necessary if there isn't a long, thorough scene where they rough out their differences; hell, even express their more hidden emotions to each other. maybe shedding a tear or two.

it's the most rational and balanced way to approach their situation. I utterly despise people that cannot see both sides of an argument and that blatantly disregard any attempt of changing the script toward redemption or healing. it happened during season one with jinx, it's happening now with caitlyn. she's done objectively bad things, yet there is no need to classify her as the set villain for this season; especially if you don't understand the influence ambessa had over her. as well as there's no need to classify vi as a dog on a leash just because she exposes vulnerability towards the person she loves. it's a human emotion, a human experience. isn't that what we're looking for in media? to find true representations of reality and the complexities of human psychology to feel some sort of catharsis? to feel like we're not alone?

in any way it ends, I just hope for satisfaction.

[sageisntamathperson]

(intro post) I am many things, but I am not a math person.

And when I say “many things,” I mean MANY things. Art. Creative writing. Journalism. Acting. Theology. Philosophy. Urban planning, Disabled self-advocacy. Environmentalism. You name it — if it’s humanities or a biology-adjacent science, I’ve got it.

But while an unimaginably nerdy fourth-grade me was founding a school newspaper or making an unprompted presentation about pharmacogenomics (yes, I was extremely a bit pretentious), there is one subject I have hated since I had the capacity to hate:

Math.

I qualified for Advanced Math testing every year of elementary school. EVERY YEAR! And did I ever get in?! NooOOOoOOO!

Every year, I was good enough to get tested but never enough to actually ace that test — and every year, I watched the smug little faces of my peers as they moved to another classroom to learn the arcane, esoteric, staggeringly difficult art of fourth/fifth grade math. For a little kid whose entire identity was built on being the “smartest kid in the class,” it was agony in its purest form.

This continued into middle school and is still a problem in high school today. I’m in honors math — but not the highest honors math. My math scores are always notably lower than my scores in, well… everything else. In fact, I’ve gotten two Bs in my entire life as of now (sophomore year), and they were both in — shocker — math. I’m in a math class with freshmen, and when I went to my school’s resource center to ask for help on matrices, I ended up getting tutored by someone my own age.

(Are these stupid problems? Of course! There are people dealing with math [and grades in general] who have it a lot harder than I do. Intellectually, I know that a B isn’t a bad grade, it’s okay to be in a class with people younger than you, and a lot of people have a tutor the same age as them. Don’t feel bad if any of that applies to you! I’m just a perfectionist who uses academic validation a source of self-worth, and for me, this is the equivalent of a rock that never seems to get out of my shoe.)

All this was tolerable, but when I found out that the highest math class in my high school — the one I would be on track for if I got into Advanced Math in elementary or middle school — had barely any girls in it, that was the last straw. I am not perpetuating the myth that girls are bad at math!

So I’ve decided that even though I’ve been told my entire life that “everyone has different talents” and I’m “just not a math person,” I will be working hard to skip the equivalent of a grade in math and get into AP Calc BC junior year. I will find out what it takes to be good at math (and why some of my friends like it so much).

(Plus, math is an extremely inconvenient subject to be mediocre in. Intellectually, I understand the appeal. It’s built into the fabric of the universe, for crying out loud!)

And thus, into the studying vortex I go.

For women in STEM everywhere!

For vindication for my elementary-school self!

And most of all, for my own fragile ego intellectual curiosity and an unquenchable thirst for learning!

[the-down-upside-finch]

WIP List (Tag Game!)

Thank you for the tag, @anyablackwood!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

...I don't think you understand what you are asking me to do.

*drags out my folder labeled "WIPs," where each of my stories have their own folders because I have to be organized* So, we have, in an order that descends into the "unnamed" docs: (The * means that this is a big folder with even more stuff inside of it)

Potentially Kinetic (webcomic)* - PK S1 by Chapter - PK S2 by Chapter - Idea Blurbs - Timeline

Stained Integrity (webcomic)* - (1) Stained Integrity (Revision Doc 2) - (2) Stained Integrity - [insert title]

Pentad of Un (novel)

Minding Q's (novel)

Secrets of a Gon (novel series)* - (1) Secrets of a Gon - (2) Secrets of a Gon: Fairling - (3) Secrets of a Gon: Witchery - (4) Secrets of a Gon: Krow

The New Magicians (novel series)* - (1) The Lucky Ring That Brought Bad Luck (The New Magicians) - (2) The Wooden Stick From the Wizard's Castle (The New Magicians) - (3) The Jeweled Heart From the Mage’s Dungeon (The New Magicians) - (4) The Ruby Crown That Shapeshifted When Worn (The New Magicians) - (5) The Glass Box Which Held an Unseen Curse (The New Magicians) - (6) The Feathered Mask That Could See Darkness (The New Magicians) - (7) The Hiltless Sword That Was Held By Shadows (The New Magicians) - (8) The Blue Cloak Worn to Cover a Curse (The New Magicians) - (9) The Spotted Egg From the Dragon Caverns - (10) The Bottle of Dust Stolen From Thieves' Bazaar - (11) The Ghostly Ship That Sank With the Sun - (12) The Arcane Ingredients Needed to Brew a Potion (The New Magicians) - (13) The Shell-Made Throne at the Bottom of the Sea - (14) The Gon Blood of the Last Descendants

Parallel Shadows (novel series)* - (1) Parallel Shadows (Revision Ver.) - (2) Light of the Railing (Parallel Shadows) - (3) Burning in Degrees (Parallel Shadows) - (4) Perpendicular Grid (Parallel Shadows) - (5) Crossed Between Axes (Parallel Shadows) - (6) Divisual of Angles (Parallel Shadows)

Wager and Cursed (novel trilogy)* - (1) Betting on Mushrooms - (2) Flying for High Stakes (Wager and Cursed) - (3) Always Bet on Blackmail (Wager and Cursed)

Shakedown (stream-of-consciousness experiment)

When It Showers

Link & Pin* - (1) Link & Pin — (The Quill & The Feather) - (2) Link & Pin — (Murder of Crows) - (3) Link & Pin — (Blue Overcast)

The Final Straw

A Stanger Comes to Town

Navigating Peril With a Compass and a God

150 Million Tonnes

Lies Von Iash

Shards of Midnight

Something in Retaw

The Neitherling & Champion

Beachcombers

Deck Them All

The Hotel With the Glass Elevator (previously titled "GGD Crew")

Half-Hour Identity

Head Space

Twisted, Entwined

Out Phazed

Non-Stop ∞

My Life is a Comedy (and I am a Side Character)

Two-Faced Flip

(post-apocalyptical world where you can kill someone for like a house)

(the necromancer/holy knight thing)

(Where the knight gets stuck protecting the practitioner)

(Attempt to write mystery)

(that one story idea)

(Untitled WIP, Walled-In Town)

A prince that can turn into a dragon visits a kingdom where he is supposed to marry the princess and he turns into a dragon to share his secret but someone sees him so they have to make up a whole situation where the princess is captured by the dragon and

Like 82957 short stories that I'm not going to list here because. there are literally so many of them.

Y'all. That's like 35 WIPs in my stupid WIP folder, not counting the individual stories within each series. THERE'S NO WAY I FOLLOW KNOW MANY WRITEBLRS BUT I'M NOT ABOUT TO BACK DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE So I'm (gently) tagging: @my-cursed-prince, @athenswrites, @amaiguri, @k-v-briarwood, @the-grim-and-sanguine, @planets-and-prose, @owlsandwich, @card-queen, @zestymimblo, @lordcatwich, @wordswrittenbynight, @worldsfromhoney, @ahordeofwasps, @autumnalwalker, @nettleandthorne, @bassguitarinablackt-shirt, @gwenthekween, @harleyacoincidence, @dancinginsepia, @fire-but-ashes-too, @aziz-reads, @serendipminiewrites, @maskedemerald, @da-na-hae, and literally whoever else wants to do this because. Yeah. Open tag.

(I realize after typing all of that that the game is probably just supposed to refer to only one specific WIP but you know what. I already typed all of that so I'm just going to live with it. Have fun y'all.)

[adultswim2021]

Aqua Teen Hunger Force #96: “Juggalo” | April 5th, 2010 - 12:00AM | S08E08

Hey, this one’s pretty memorable, and actually has a decent amount of context on which I can heap. I love heaping things, so let’s go to it: 

Shake is attempting to create a simple diversion for some comedy reason, and he does this by causing a massive pile-up by throwing a concrete slab off an overpass. One of the lives he cut short is Paul F. Tompkins, sorta playing his dapper-ass self. By that I mean he’s got the same personality and they drew him in a relatively accurate manner (I think his head is too small, personally). The man’s spirit haunts Shake and forces him to do good. He has the ability to send Shake to hell when he mouths off. He makes him be nice to Carl, which is the final straw. 

When the angel has a bout of “angel diarrhea” and has to excuse himself, Shake makes a break for it and quickly finds a demonic force to help him vanquish his heavenly pest. But he only has a few minutes on craigslist and the best he can dig up is a teenage juggalo. He’s voiced by Paul “once told me he liked my online comic strip and I am pretty sure he actually meant it” Rust. Shake’s plan doesn’t work, because the kid just dresses shake up like a Denny’s goth and makes him give him and his friends rides. Shake eventually can’t take the torment and blows his own head off with a shotgun. 

The final scene takes place in court. ICP, voicing they (whatever the opposite of “dapper” is)-ass selves, are being sued for their lyrics causing Shake's suicide. George Lowe is the lawyer representing Shake’s household, now in mourning. ICP lightly defends their lyrics, and then reveal they can spit literal fire, and set the court ablaze. That’s it, aside from a brief over the credits scene where Shake is in hell, washing Carl’s car, which I guess also died and went to hell. 

Back around this time, Paul F. Tompkins was very regular on The Best Show on WFMU with Tom Scharpling. Tom Scharpling was on the show way back in 2003’s “The Shaving”. Paul would call the Best Show most weeks and occupy a huge chunk of time. Their most remembered riff was them talking about the then-viral Gathering of the Juggalos in 2009. There’s even a trading card commemorating it. I have it somewhere! I can’t find it in my home, or online. Sorry. PFT and Tom had a falling out shortly after this. What a couple of weirdos!

One last bit: Paul is credited, probably to skirt union rules, as “Mr. Hutchinson”. This is a particularly arcane inside joke based on a story where Paul was recognized in public by fan. At the time, Paul was the host of Best Week Ever, and this fan, who loved the show, misidentified Paul as “Mr. Hutchinson”, believing that to be his name. I actually remember there being one episode of Best Week Ever where Paul came back from a commercial by saying “welcome back to Best Week Ever hosted by Paul F. Tompkins. I’m Mr. Hutchinson”. 

I liked this one fine. I think sometimes going heavy on the guest star can be a mistake, but this one works for me. I haven’t really kept up with PFT, but when this aired I genuinely thought he was one of the funniest guys out there. He might still be for all I know. I respect him, and I should respect him. I am going about this the exact correct way.

MAIL BAG

You wear a disguise to look like SNL guys, but you're not Will Ferrell, you're in Chickenfoot

Mr. Hutchinson? Now that reference I get. What the fuck is this? Some kind of disrespectful music parody? Answer me at once

[eggedbellies]

Using hypnosis to try and get you to do something you are interested in kink-wise but too scared to do but accidentally unleashing your inner sex demon.

I'll take creative liberties and say it was some sort of bondage and after numerous attempts, you keep chickening out and that is the last straw you need to do this if you're going to do anything kinkier. So you entrust your partner in this story to try and get you to not be so fearful and accept your kinks. So as they bring you under and try to get you to accept these current kinks, they get a little vague and go "Accept all your kinks" so they won't have to do this next time. But in doing so it changes you.  You start to grow and change, and your clothes start to snap due to your growing body, your demon tail emerging, your wings growing, little horns popping out, and other things.  Your partner drops the watch, ending your trance to reveal the new you, and you feel in yourself you want to test something out. You can shapeshift, you can change others, you can create transformation items, you can make someone's belly grow, and anything this blog relates you can do. You've become a master of arcane arts of sex stuff. Oh, what to do now?

Ohohohoho, being transformed into a succubus basically by someone's desires... being able to shape myself and breeed and transform others? It would be a dream.. just a dream...

[aquadestinyswriting]

The Final Straw

Summary: Yoruk pleads with his mother to see reason once again. Only things get a bit out of hand as the argument escalates.

Words: 2,306

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @sparrow-orion-writes ,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @writeblrsupport @blind-the-winds

Warnings: physical abuse, magical abuse, psychological abuse, suffocation, blood mention, parental abuse, domestic abuse (I think that's everything, let me know if not).

Notes: Takes place about two days after Yoruk proposes to Meredith and after certain events in @druidx's 'What Alexis Did Next'. This one is going to be pretty heavy going, so you've been warned.

The staff of the Copperheart estate were used to the regular screams of the house’s mistress and the odd explosion of something relatively inexpensive being Shattered; Lady Copperheart’s temper was legendary and had been a fact of life here for nearly five centuries at this point. What was less common, but now becoming increasingly common, was the return shouts of the Lady’s only child. Firik, the house’s elderly butler, retreated down into the kitchens to wait out the yelling match with a weary sigh.

Yoruk crossed his arms over his chest as his mother’s tirade came to an end, her chest heaving with exertion and emotion,

“I’m going mother, and that’s that.” he said as calmly as he could manage, “I’m sixty-seven years old and a fully grown man. You don’t get any say in what I can do with my life any more.” he told her. Ionah felt her rage bubble up again, a surge of arcane power welling up within her and threatening to spill over. She fought the sensation down and glared at her son, tucking several stray hairs that had come loose from her customary braids behind her ears,

“An adult? What I see before me is currently one very ungrateful brat of a son who doesn’t seem to understand how this is going to affect the reputation of this house!” she snapped, “It’s quite bad enough that you even proposed to that little trollop of a smith’s daughter, and now you think you get to leave before calling that off and finding a decent match that reflects the honour and prestige of the Copperheart name? I don’t think so.”

Yoruk felt his own temper flare at his mother’s words, a swell of righteous indignation and anger already bubbling over despite his attempts to fight it down,

“The ‘trollop’ has a name.” he ground out, “What you don’t seem to realise, mother, is that she has far more honour than you ever will. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and start packing.” Yoruk started to march to the door, only to find his progress halted as every muscle in his body suddenly froze up.

Ionah’s hand trembled, clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. The noblewoman walked slowly over to her son and backhanded him with her free hand, hard enough for her rings to leave imprints on his cheek.

“You are not going anywhere.” she snarled, “You will call off that farce of an engagement and you will Inform Captain Bolhammer that you are resigning as a member of the Moradhir Guard and resuming your training as a Kingsguard.” she spat. Despite the magical Hold on his person, Yoruk managed to send the much shorter woman a hot glare. His ears rang and vision blurred as his lungs strained against the magical paralysis. The divine magic that had been slowly building around the paladin finally spilled over and released itself with a massive Crack! 

Ionah’s eyes went wide as the force of the explosion of magic knocked her to the floor, shattering her concentration and unbinding her spell. The noblewoman quickly cast another spell, slowing her travel enough that she was able to avoid slamming into the fireplace and roll to her side, unharmed. 

Yoruk coughed as fresh air finally entered his lungs once more. He fell to his hands and knees as fire ripped through every last nerve in his body, his stubborn determination the only thing preventing him from falling into unconsciousness. He was too distracted to notice his mother’s recovery as she stood, picking up the poker next to the fireplace.

Ionah’s thoughts raced as she approached the young man, who was still coughing and wheezing even as she slowly walked towards him. So the ungrateful brat was stupid enough to use magic against her to get his own way? Clearly he needed a more severe lesson in manners. She should never have let Forhok cow her into allowing him to go into training as a paladin. Her hands shook some more as she raised the poker above her head. She should have done this a long time ago. Clearly her own parents knew far better, if she hadn’t thought that she was better than them, then perhaps she might have had a son at all. Not this… thing that pretended to love her. She brought the poker down.

Ionah did not know how long it took before she was wrestled away from the bleeding and bruised body below her. She couldn’t hear what was being shouted at her over the ringing in her ears as she pushed the staff that had dared to manhandle her away, nor her own screams at them to not touch her. When it became clear they would not allow her to continue her punishment, Ionah marched up to Yoruk’s room, threw some clothing into a trunk and threw it down the stairs and out of the somehow open front door.

A small group of Ironguard stared as a trunk flew out of the door of the Copperheart residence and flew open, scattering various items of clothing out onto the front garden of the manor. The most senior officer placed a reassuring hand on the trembling maid who had rushed out and hailed them,

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of things from here.” he nodded to the rest of the group,

“Stonebreaker, Woldbasher, start questioning the rest of the staff about what happened, Onyxaxe, Thundersword, you’re with me. Let’s see what kind of situation we’re getting ourselves into.” he said. The other officers saluted him and cautiously entered the front door.

The first thing Lieutenant Broadforge and his men saw was Lady Copperheart, her dress covered in soot and ash and her normally impeccable hair coming loose from her style waltzing down the stairs from the upper levels. The noblewoman smiled at them and attempted to dust off her dress,

“Ah, good afternoon officers. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” she asked pleasantly. Broadforge noted the glazed eyes and distant expression on the lady’s face but returned the smile and bowed,

“We had some reports of a disturbance up this way ma’am.” he replied, “We just wanted to check things out and make sure nothing was amiss.” The lieutenant surreptitiously gestured for two of his men to go into the main sitting room, where he’d noted a large gathering of what appeared to be staff out of the corner of his eye. He returned his attention to Ionah as she heaved a sigh,

“I do apologise, lieutenant, it seems the argument between myself and the ungrateful young man who used to live here was a little louder than I thought.” she said, “If you could, can you escort him from the premises please? I no longer wish to have him under my roof.” Broadforge nodded and offered the noblewoman his arm,

“Why don’t we talk about the matter in the drawing room while my lads deal with this young gent, eh?” he offered. Ionah nodded and came the rest of the way down the stairs, gently rejected the offered arm and strode airily towards the drawing room on the opposite end of the hall to the front sitting room. The Lieutenant looked to his men and gestured for the others to go into the sitting room to see what was going on.

Stonebreaker, Woldbasher, Onyxaxe and Thundersword all stared at the scene that greeted them as they walked into the sitting room. Several paintings had been knocked from the walls and a cabinet lay on its side, the glass shattered and all the little ornaments that it held scattered on the floor. In the middle of the room, surrounded by various members of staff was the bruised and bleeding form of a young man, collapsed and unconscious on the floor. 

Woldbasher was the first to react, quickly getting Thundersword to help him clear the staff away and start talking to them, while Onyxaxe  knelt down next to Yoruk and checked him over,

“Laddie’s alive, thank Moradin. Better get him down to the infirmary right quick though, looks like there’s at least a couple of broken bones here.” he called. Stonebreaker nodded and walked back to the door,

“I’ll run off and let them know.” he said, “I’ll get a hold of some of the Moradhir guard to give us a hand while I’m at the cathedral too, seeing as the lad’s one of them.” he added, gesturing to the etched leather shoulder pad Yoruk was wearing. Onyxaxe nodded and looked up at Firik, who was kneeling opposite him,

“Alright, so what happened?” he asked. Firik shook his head and gestured to the poker that was lying nearby,

“I’m not sure on specifics, but we heard a loud crack from down in the kitchen, rush up here and have to manhandle Lady Copperheart away from Master Yoruk because she was beating him with that.” he replied. He swallowed thickly, “We knew she had a temper, but we never thought she would go this far.” Woldbasher's eyes narrowed,

"Sounds like we need to have her ladyship brought down to the watchhouse to answer a few questions." He said, "Can't be having that kind of behaviour." Thundersword shook his head,

"The lieutenant's got the say on that." He said, "And it depends on the lad pressing charges."

"Knowing Master Yoruk, he probably won't." A short, rotund woman sighed, "From what I hear, he's been ordered on an expedition away from the mount, along with a bunch of other paladins and Kingsguard, to find whoever tried assassinating the king the other day."

"You mean the assisination attempt at the ball?" Onyxaxe asked, "Thought it was agreed that it were the Dalliance lass?" 

"Aye, that's the official word, but no one knows where she's gone. It's why the palace has ordered a bunch of expeditions to go find her." Woldbasher said. The tall dwarf turned to the much shorter woman,

"When was he due to leave? He asked. The matron sighed,

"Next week. He'll definitely insist on going now, he was on the verge of walking out and never coming back before this kicked off." A stony silence fell over the group. Unless Yoruk wanted to stay in Fangthane, then there was every possibility that Lady Copperheart would get away with what she had done scott free.

Lieutenant Broadforge shook his head as he regarded the woman in front of him.

"So you were defending yourself then?" He asked, noting that Ionah seemed to be completely unharmed. Ionah nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief,

"Yes officer. I don't know what came over him. Yoruk was arguing with me over my concerns about him leaving on this expedition. I merely told him to stop being ridiculous and that he had other responsibilities here to take care of. I walk up to him to better get my point across, the next thing I know I'm flying back from him and he's walking over with his hands raised." She sniffled,

"I was, as you can imagine, absolutely terrified, so I reached for something to defend myself with. Luckily, I was able to overpower him and knock him unconscious before he could touch me." 

Broadforge rubbed at his temple,

"We'll collect statements from everyone in the house and get one from your son once he wakes up again." Ionah glared at the Ironguard,

"I won't keep you from your investigation, officer, but as of this moment that monster is not my son." She said, "As much as it pains me to do so, I cannot, and will not, have him associated with the Copperheart name any longer." Broadforge's head snapped up, his eyes wide,

"My Lady Copperheart, are you absolutely certain?" He asked, "You're willing to leave your House entirely without an heir?" Ionah nodded, her eyes brimming once more,

"I am more than aware of the consequences Officer Broadforge." She replied, her voice tight, "However, I don't believe I have any other choice. The boy is not fit to wield the clan name, and I won't have its reputation ruined by association." 

Broadforge noted Ionah's statement and nodded wearily,

"Of course, my Lady, forgive me." He sighed. Something wasn't adding up, but until he got the reports from his team, he couldn't waste time on making assumptions. He stood and bowed,

"Thank you for your cooperation Lady Copperheart. I'll keep you apprised of the situation. Have a good day." Ionah stood and nodded,

"Of course, officer. I'm so sorry to have inconvenienced you." Broadforge cocked his head,

"Given the severity of what occurred in your statement, will you be willing to press charges if it comes to it?" He asked, "Only because His Majesty takes such accusations of domestic abuse incredibly seriously." Ionah shook her head,

"If it's all the same to you, officer, I don't think that's entirely necessary. As terrified as I was, and still am, I think he'll learn a hard enough lesson while on this expedition he's insisted on going on." She replied. Broadforge nodded again, saluted the woman and left the room.

Ionah scowled at the door once it was closed. She pulled out a small necklace from under her dress and regarded it. The attached symbol of an eye with draconic wings sprouting from it on either side glinted in the dim light of the glowstones. Khalin willing, the impertinent boy would die while he was gone, solving all of her problems in one fell swoop. She placed the necklace back under her bodice as she heard the Moradhir Guard arrive to escort her former son out of the house. She smiled, then began to loudly pretend to sob, burying her head into her hands. Appearances needed to be kept up after all.

[fanficriter]

Intro - Rules

Hiya! Welcome to my blog. Here is my request rules and overall into blah blah blah.

——————————————————————————

Hiya!

Welcome to my blog :3 Here are my request rules! Mutuals from other platforms, you didn’t see me here!!!

A bit about me!

Hello! I am Jessie! Been on tumblr since the dark days (2015)

I hope you guys enjoy my writing, i’m not the best but writing is somthing i enjoy doing from time to time. Feel free to ask questions about me in my inbox <3

Request are always open unless stated otherwise in my bio

Disclamers

I have te right to deny a request for any reason. This reason can range from the request making me uncomfortabe, to me simply not liking the character. I'll try my best not to deny requests, but please dont get upset if I do.

I will not write anything to do with bodily fluids. This excludes cum obviously dont worry you horndogs. But things like peepee and poopoo are a big nono. (Unless it’s in a humorous manner)

I rarley write smut. iM SORRY. A few friends follow this account and im scared that me writing smut will be their last straw. This doesnt mean I wont write it at all. But im gonna need some time to get comfortable.

Updates may be slow. I'm mentally ill mf who is tired and drained almost all the time. So please be patient if updates and whatnot take their time to get posted.

Fandoms i write for!

This list is a snippet for SOME of the fandoms i write for, if your fandom isn’t there, still feel free to request for it!

Saiki K

My Hero Acadamia

Danganronpa

Valorant

Miraculous Ladybug

Demon Slayer

Twilight

Alice in Borderland

Hunger Games

Total Drama

Jjk

Hazbin Hotel

Arcane

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[mdhwrites]

Arcane Episode 2 Review: Of Gleaming Dreams Built On Bodies

The time in Europe before World War 1 was one of the most fascinating in history. Germany’s creation was one of the most disruptive things to the geopolitical state of that part of the world. To match the big change were equally big leaders. They were some of the best each of their countries have seen and amongst them all was the grand man Otto Von Bismark. His careful treading of water, of roiling politics and his exactness in when and how to make Germany a unified country helped create a web of treaties and agreements that not only allowed Germany to exist but for peace to be mostly what followed after.

This peace was only kept because the leaders in power respected those treaties. Understood the price that would be paid if ever someone actually made them call upon their allies. They did not seek glory or conquest simply to make themselves look good or to pad their legacy for they knew the cost would be too high.

Those leaders eventually fell, one by one, until the world was no longer led by great men, especially Germany. Their Kaiser then was one of the worst they’ve had. Then a shot rang out from people pushed too far and the whole world burned for it because no one was willing to appreciate the costs and step down.

If you’re wondering how this all relates back to Arcane, I suggest rewatching this episode with this thought in mind. I mentioned in my last review that both the young enforcer who in this episode crosses the line on the enforcer’s side paralleled Vi well in that they’re both angry, young people who want a chance to prove themselves and have forgotten the cost of war. They’re driven by anger, ideology, ideas of glory, hate that’s been pushed on them by society and so much more.

In this cacophany we get more teasing of Silco, someone who seems like he’d be content to see it all wash into the sea so as to join the glorious beasts far below and Jayce, a young researcher who only sees the gilded paradise of magic and not the horrible cost that Heimdinger does. One is a man who doesn’t care about the cost of progress while the other is naive to the dangers of it. And why shouldn’t he? Piltover is safe from the warmongering of mages. Those atrocities that lead Demacia to chain mages in Petricite (thank you a hard campaign in Runeterra for teaching me this) are just headlines to people in Piltover. Or at least, the new generation. So why obey simple words when seeking revolution?

This is Vi and many of the Undercity’s viewpoint as well. Yes, the bridge burned. Yes, many people died. They sought peace. What did the enforcers do though? The next time they came down into the lanes, they assaulted, they brutalized and they disrespected. They saw themselves as so far above these people who are holding back that they saw no reason to treat them as humans. They’re all criminals after all. Everyone knows about Vander’s past. Of those cast iron gauntlets.

Which is maybe the one hardline complaint I could see with this episode. The bridge’s destruction, going off of how Vi and Powder look, is MAYBE a decade old. At most. This is still well within most young adult’s living memory and while that could explain the enforcer’s opinion, they’re still wanting to finish the job they started when the undercity tried to rise, it doesn’t explain the Undercity’s. But at the same time, many in the city were still willing to obey Vander... At least until they invaded The Last Drop and broke the last straw of having even a veneer of decency towards these people.

No amount of good leadership will save a populace once humanity has been thrown out. Which is what also wins out in the end of the episode. The humanity of family. The respect of loss. The dawning horror of consequences. Jayce still needs to learn them, saying goodbye to Caitlyn wasn’t enough, but Vi?

Vi had to grow up fast already. What she’s is both incredibly brave and just deeply sad. Twitter tells me that she’ll find a form of happiness from it eventually, at least in fanfiction, but... Well, loss and care for another dampened Vi’s fire. When Powder is showing off her new grenades, you can see how Vi has made sure that Powder still talks about this stuff with excitement and why she sees these as things to use only when necessary. Care for Powder quelled Vi’s flame.

But even if I hadn’t been spoiled, I could see there is now nothing to stop this powder from lighting into a flame that could only end up jinxing the world to come. And with so much oil already on the flames... Well, let’s hope Jayce is right that his hextech can actually change the course of history.

[rizardofether]

For the asura ask game: how about 9, 10, and 24 for Rhixak?

9. What are their hobbies and pastimes? Do they have any natural talent or particularly strong interest that’s not tied to their job? If nothing in particular, what do they do with their free time?

Things have changed a lot over the years for Rhixak. He used to tinker with various things just for fun, golems, inventions, other machines etc. Sometimes working with more magical aspects like enchantments.

Ended up with a whole less free time with all the Commander duties. With less free time, sometimes he would take time to see the sights of whatever area he was currently in and take it all in.

Growing older and around after the events of EoD, he ended up with a bit more free time and decided to try cooking just for fun. Not great at it but he tries.

Other than that he goes on dates with Prim from time to time of course.

10. Is there anything they’re terrible at and shouldn’t be trusted with? Just how bad are they at it? Why? Has it resulted in any serious damage?

Following the cooking comment above wouldn't that be so funny especially with the eating habits of the commander.

Hmm, I can't think of anything exactly fitting this question but I can think of some things somewhat relevant to it.

Terrible at drawing things. Hasn't had much time to practice drawing and anything he draws tends to be only legible to himself. Handwriting also terrible. You do not want to be the one in charge of reading his handwritten reports.

Probably also bad with magical objects, but in a different way. Rhixak is so magically radioactive at this point he can be a hazard. Blew up a few magitech items at some point after all the magic radiating off of him. Luckily he has the magical neutralizer Prim with him most of the time now.

24. Do they have any particular opinion on the Peacemakers and the Arcane Council (and Eye)? Do they have any direct experience with them?

Does not trust them or have any faith. He used to when he was young, trusting that of course everyone would be doing their job straightforward as they are told. As he grew older and began to understand the world more he saw how unreliable and even corrupt they can be. Especially the Gorr incident was the last straw.

Besides the canon experiences the whole Prim reveal probably had to be revealed at least to the world leaders including the Arcane Council and they did not like that. Because of it, Rhixak and Prim moved out of Rata Sum officially.

[leorawright]

okay so i would like to request the exact opposite of the last reaper and widowmaker requests you did. give us soldier 76 seeing his kid in talon. i'm in the mood for angst.

(also idk if requests are open, if they aren't ignore this lmao)

Ooooooo mk mk I see you

Soldier 76 seeing his kid in Talon

He thought he was a pretty good father but in reality he was a bit... neglectful due to his duties in Overwatch and as Soldier 76

And yet Talon offered you all the support that your father never provided so it wasn't hard to fall in with them

If anyone had ever see Arcane Legends imagine Silco and Jinx and that's you and Reaper's relationship

Basically just the whole "Everyone else betrays us and we only have each other"

(Reaper does care for you though)

Jack is furious to see you among Talon's rank and has to resist calling you a traitor

He tries to get you back on his side but it ends up in a argument, almost a screaming match between the two of you

And what breaks Jack is your response to him yelling "What do they do that I can't do for you!?"

"They love me"

That broke Jack as he sees the sorrow if your eyes and he realizes how little he truly knows about his child

And seeing you so happy and relaxed around Reaper is the final straw

He makes his way home and breaks down as soon as the door shuts

He hates himself for hurting you and not even realizing it

He hates that Reaper gives you more care and love than Jack ever did

Jack can never bring himself to drag you back from Talon, not after seeing how much you and Gabriel care for each other