#wicked asylum

[tempi-dispari]

New Post has been published on https://www.tempi-dispari.it/2023/10/11/wicked-asylum-una-band-in-costante-crescita/

Wicked Asylum: una band in costante crescita

Le Wicked Asylum confermano l’ottimo risultato dei singoli che hanno anticipato l’uscita del loro ultimo lavoro. Un passo in avanti in tutto e per tutta la band. Il suono, a livello generale, si è incupito e appesantito. Sono molteplici e più strutturati i cambi all’interno delle composizioni. Fa capolino qua e là anche una leggera vena ‘epica’ intesa come maestosità.

Maturazione quindi, sia dal punto di vista compositivo sia strumentale. La padronanza degli strumenti è aumentata e questo permette di poter ‘giocare’ molto di più e molto meglio con note e tempi. Non ci sono. Come erano assenti anche nei lavori precedenti, ostentazioni. La band suona e lo fa al meglio, per sé stessa, per poter ben esprimere il proprio messaggio. Il disco apre con Kintsugi, già recensita. Prosegue Crystallised. Questa è il primo vero distacco del cordone ombelicale con il primo disco.

Si voglia per le metriche del cantato, più particolari, ricercate, non canoniche. O per la sezione strumentale. È un continuo cambio di tempi, intenzioni, atmosfere. La band si spinge oltre il prog per impatto arrivare a lambire il djent in taluni frangenti. Questo anche grazie ai suoni granitici. Blastbit alternato a parti cadenzate danno un’ottima dinamica complessiva. Il resto degli strumenti si adegua alla perfezione.

Entrando maggiormente nel dettaglio si può notare anche una sfumatura horro rock. Segue Lacerate. L’oscurità non si placa. Anzi. I ritmi si fanno meno serrati e per questo più monolitici. La voce torna ad essere più melodica. Ottimo il break centrale che rallenta per dare spazio ad un frangente narrato. Le barricate sonore si rialzano subito dopo.

Ancora un cambio verso i ¾, prima del solo. Ottimo stacco di basso distorto che conduce all’intervento solista. Base minimale. Il tono si rialza per condurre la corazzata fino al finale. Una nota alla batteria sempre diversa, dinamica mia scontata. Ancora prog modello Nevermore per Mistress of Dead. Mid tempo iniziale serrato che apre ad un cambio aperto.

Nuova evoluzione prima del ritornello con un passaggio epic. È ancora la sezione ritmica a fare una grande differenza. Inarrestabile. Un pugno in pieno volto che stordisce e sorprende. Il tutto senza fretta. O, meglio, alternando passaggi velocissimi a momenti cadenzati se non addirittura lenti. Il tutto in salsa heavy. La pesantezza non viene mai meno.

Anche quando pare di poter respirare, è solo un’illusione. Il disco incalza, sempre. Ben strutturato l’intervento solista. Veloce quanto basta per tenere alto il ritmo ma non troppo da risultare fuori posto. Il finale è una corsa a rotta di collo inseguiti da una mandria branco di leoni inferociti. Si prosegue con Weaker than thee. Qui ci si imbatte in dissonanze e tempi dispari.

La velocità non è elevata, il che dà la possibilità agli strumenti di costruire architetture tetre, cupe, disperate, pesanti. I cambi sono molteplici sia a livello ritmico sia armonico il che lancia la canzone in un ambito techno thrash. Per quanto riguarda le atmosfere horror e malate il primo riferimento che viene in mente è il King Diamond più ispirato. Non certo per lo stile di cantato per le atmosfere.

Ottimo break a ¾, quasi hardrockeggiante ad introdurre il solo di chitarra. Anche in questo caso centellinato, perfettamente studiato. Un’improvvisa impennata scombina tutte le carte in tavola conducendo alla chiusura. Heart in two dà un altro spaccato dello stile della band. È il basso a dettare legge, anche se non in primissimo piano. Lo fa distinguendosi dalla linea ritmica generale.

L’andamento è sempre molto cupo, compresso. Ritmi spezzati si alternano a sfuriate monolitiche. Un brano diretto pur se non scevro di cambi. Come lo stop a poco più di metà con l’inserimento di un carillon. Spaventoso e come effetto e come risultato. Il rientro è su coordinate melodiche tutt’altro che standard. Così come il solo, disturbante. Ciò che conta per la band sono le sensazioni.

E sanno come farle emergere. Si prosegue con Wachizashi che funge da intro per la successiva Drown. Ci si addentra in un budello oscuro attorniato di magia. L’immagine che sale alla mente è quella di una dama ottocentesca che scende nelle segrete di un antico palazzo. Una scala a chiocciola abbastanza larga ma scivolosa. Nessuna finestra. Solo una torcia nelle mani. Le preti sono umide di muschio.

Improvvisamente davanti si mostra una porta. Da dietro rumori che paiono urla. La tensione sale. Il brano torna all’intro percussivo. Lentamente la dama apre lo stipite. Mette dentro la testa. Una fioca luce illumina vecchi tomi e lambicchi. In un angolo uno scheletro appoggiato ad un tavolo. Sopra una lettera di addio. Per sapere come finisce si deve arrivare alla seguente Walk away. La dama scappa impaurita.

Impaurita perché sa che quelle ossa erano sangue del suo sangue e l’inquietudine che le scorre dentro viene da lontano. Il ritmo inarrestabile del brano perfettamente si adatta all’immagine di una fuga. Senza voltarsi. Fino al riemergere all’aria aperta ma sempre con il cuore in gola. Allo stesso modo la canzone non si ferma.

Non si bloccano le corse, i cambi e le sferzate sul viso dei rami del sentiero intrapreso per allontanarsi. Questo viene sottolineato dal solo che non fugge su note velocissime. Più che lodevole la ripresa alla fine dell’intervento solista. Ritmo cadenzato, muro di suono con uno spiraglio di melodia. Il finale è al fulmicotone. Madness Returns riapre la strada alla corazzata Wicked Asylum.

La cupezza di riveste di pesantezza. Ritmo sostenuto ma non troppo. Voce melodica e narrante. Anche in questo frangente ricchi e molteplici sono i cambi. Sia a livello strumentale sia vocale. Nessun riferimento immediato, diretto. Si alternano passaggi in chiaroscuro sospesi tra morse cadenzate a leggere aperture. Presente un notevole inserimento anche qui prima del solo.

Mutamento radicale anche durante l’intervento solista. La velocità della batteria si impenna. Arriva a dominare una doppia cassa in sedicesimi davvero ottima. Arriviamo così alla penultima traccia, Song of Nothing. Il brano inizia lento per poi esplodere su ritmiche serratissime. Numerosi i cambi di tempi e di atmosfere, anche se a vincere è sempre l’oscurità.

Davvero ottimo il contrasto creato tra base strumentale pesantissima e voce melodica. Lode al solo che richiama uno stile thrash di metà anni ’80. Non tanto per la velocità di esecuzione quanto per il gusto e le scale scelte. Chiude il lavoro Remember you. Quasi un urlo di liberazione. La fine di un viaggio in meandri oscuri del proprio animo. Il ritmo è andante per la maggior parte del brano con un wall of sound notevole. La voce vola sui muri creati dagli strumenti. Perfettamente strutturato il break centrale che segna un piccolo cambio di passo. Davvero notevole il lavoro della batteria dopo il solo. Ancora una volta variegato e non scontato.

Concludendo. Un disco notevole quello delle Wicked Asylum. Un lavoro che mostra una band in crescita, perfettamente amalgamata e compatta. Soprattutto un gruppo che sperimenta e non ha paura di osare saggiando i propri limiti e oltrepassandoli. Questo loro ultimo lavoro è particolarmente sentito dalla band, come hanno dichiarato in una intervista. E questo sentimento arriva all’ascoltatore. Musicalmente si tratta di un vero viaggio sonoro caratterizzato da lotte interiori con i propri demoni. Un cd consigliato a tutti coloro i quali cercano una evoluzione nella musica e a tutti quelli che amano i bei dischi.

[nekrosmos]

Rules: without naming them, post a gif of ten of your favorite films, then tag ten people to do the same

I was tagged by @shyravenns , thank you so much !!!

Tagging (but no pressure as always) : @on-a-lucky-tide @a-driftamongopenstars @adhdoomed @lialucis @jgvfhl @gomzdrawfr

@hexxedghost @cod-thoughts @crowbarrd

[boredth]

So in your au, how did John get turned into a vampire? Or was he born that way?

There was this idea back then but after more thoughts I'm down for anything that puts him in more situations. Maybe his parents were killed by hunters / assassins (which is how he became an orphan) and later adopted by the Ruska Roma.

Gasp and that's how John understands what Eve went through and why he lets her go to complete her mission.

[lilyesmeralda]

Hiii 🥰

Welcome to my little autistic corner <3

I absolutely love:

🩷 The Hunchback of Notre Dame

🩷 Midnight Mass

🩷 Severus Snape

🩷 Narcissa Malfoy

🩷 Hadestown

🩷 Sabrina Carpenter

🩷 The Nanny / Fran Fine

🩷 Ouat

💚 Wicked

🖤 Batman / DC / Arkham Series / Gotham

If you wanna talk about any fandoms, you can message me or send asks 🎀

[marlenacantswim]

oh my gosh, i don't have to be well-off or successful to help people, i can be a loser and still improve the lives of the people around me just by being there and caring (<- guy who just watched "takin' over the asylum" for the first time)

google how do i make myself look exactly like campbell bain, or maybe date him, i'm not entirely sure, but how do i make it happen (<- same guy who just watched "takin' over the asylum" for the first time)

[goatdon]

had to take a sec from pitt posting to reblog those bc.

WYDM BOBBY NASH IS DEAD???? WYDM PEEPAW IS DEAD???? WHAT THE HELL what the HELLYON

stopped watching a show for like a few months and came back to my fictional father figure being KILLED OFF like what.

[tobytheeggo]

Woke up thinking about Chidi, go to sleep thinking about him too <33

[fun-sized-owl]

I broke the tags... this was only a portion LOL

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.

[genderkoolaid]

expand on ur "mental asylum Marxism shit" thing about children & grief?? from what you've said im pretty sure i will relate from my own experiences as a grieving child. also it sounds interesting!!

so i was thinking about how weird it is that, when a child has to deal with the death of a loved one, they say something like "no child should have to go through this! no child should have to even think about death!" which strikes me as weird because i was a child who dealt with the deaths of multiple close family members, very close together. the first was my great-grandmother, who i lived with and who was my best friend. death was never foreign to me (my mom has always been very death-positive on top of all that). grief was just part of my life like everything else was.

but i realized that its because people think childhood should not have any flaws. you should be 100% happy and fulfilled all the time. any time a child experiences anything painful, its bad. not "children should have access to love and support," but "children should not have basic life experiences because the idea of childhood being anything other than fluffy purity scares me."

because children in society are fundamentally not people. especially in a society structured around christian beliefs in natural law theory, that what is natural = what is good, healthy, and Divinely commanded. so on top of children being the property of adults, they are also forced to be the symbols of Nature. whatever is the most useful to whoever needs them. which means we built up this idea of children as tabula rasas, pureness incarnate. like a magic mirror where if we look into it, we'll be able to catch a glimpse of the true face of humanity. every single thing children do can be scrutinized for some grand truth about humans as a whole. and then, the ways children are treated also reflect how we think humanity should interact with its own nature.

example: the idea of humanity as inherently sinful and wicked, with that urge needing to be suppressed through state violence (hello hobbes) = the idea that children are annoying and shitty on purpose and need to be forced via punishment into being Good Citizens.

this is also why children cannot be trans, even though all trans people must prove that we were trans children. being queer must be unnatural; and even if not, its inherently sexual, and sexuality is dirty and bad. so children can't be trans, and they also can't read books on puberty until their parents decide when and what exactly they are allowed to learn. child victims of sexual assault only matter to the extent that they can be used as a symbol of a cultural threat; calling Jewish or trans people pedophiles means saying that they are foreigners attacking basic human nature, and indirectly, Divine command. if you aren't the right kind of victim, or when you inevitably reveal yourself to be A Person with complicated experiences and opinions, you are no longer of use to the agenda.

it sucks that bad things happen to anyone. aspects of youth can exacerbate the pain sometimes, but sometimes it does the reverse: I wish I could have spent more time with the family members I lost, but I know other people who are glad they loss family members young, because they weren't really hurt by it. I think the main thing is that, even sometimes when we talk about our past selves, we project this cultural idea of Child As Purity and ignore the actual person having the experience. when we "empathize" with children by projecting Purity onto them, we aren't actually connecting with them.

[ennn]

Agatha x Rio Fic Rec Master List

Everyone has their own fic preferences. My personal recommended picks here, AUs included, that generally check off these boxes:

Balanced power dynamic i.e. no sugar baby fantasies here, no dependencies, they give as good as they get

Some plot i.e. no pure smut fics here, though some have them bangin' quite a bit

Characterisation i.e. ideally cunt4cunt freak4freak, although some AUs have them a lot softer than canon but I can roll with it if the power dynamic holds

Last updated: 13 Mar '25.

Now, in no order of merit:

Go enjoy all their works, they've written a bunch of stuff. Here are just highlights:

@thiswildernessismyhome

allow my love to find her brutal way to me

[ 9k words | one-shot ] An angsty time loop fic that gets these characters so right and will punch you right in the feels. Maybe more than once.

memory that presses like a blade against her throat

[ 4.3k words | one-shot ] Pain and sweet pathos with spot-on banter. Explores Agatha’s trauma from her mom. Rio gets protective, cute, and vengeful.

yeahitshowed

real hot ghoul shit

[ 15.4k words | multi-chapter | series ] Set post-AAA. It's wacky, it's angsty, it's great. Agatha and Rio attempt to work out their shit. Billy is trying his best. Now with a whole ghoulniverse of sequels.

sometimes i still feel the bruise

[ 3.2k words | one-shot ] Agatha is not taking her first Pride very well. It’s all the trauma. A fantastic exploration of the character with all her edges and soft underbelly.

@paddingtonfan69

now I understand, and it’s time to leave the woods

[ 15.9k words | multi-chapter | series ] One of the best backstory fic for these two that absolutely nails their dynamic. Angsty and silly and horny as you'd expect with these two.

someday we will all be lying on our backs (free at last from income tax) 

[ 13.1k words | multi-chapter | series ] The gold standard for fandom AUs. The bad boy of the IRS meets infamous tax evader Agatha Harkness.

@alilbitgaywrites

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[ 4.4k words | first of a series ] Death has a cabin in Delaware. The first of a relatively chill (for them) canon-divergent series where these two clash, banter, and begin to heal.

you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

[ 32k words | multi-chapter ] Expands upon canon (so expect glorious angst) and maybe fixes it a little. Agatha and Rio through the years and into the show.

Naturally if you like a fic, check out the author's other works

because i could not stop for death (she kindly stopped for me) – by @she-s-a-shy-one

[ 70k words | multi-chapter | series ] The historical epic fic. Takes on Agathario's messed up backstory through many different eras and disasters. Hope you like history! Oof, that's a lot of collateral damage, Agatha.

A Graveyard Hated by the Moon – by @viceroy-bubblesmutini

[ 5.5k words | first of a series ] Can't get enough murderous historical escapades with these two? Here's more of this terrible pair causing problems.

blood, sweat & tears – by clarkestrife

[ 20.1k words | multi-chapter | wip ] They meet for the first time after Nicky's death. Let's just say Agatha doesn't deal with it well and has a mean left hook. Heavy on the hurt and angst.

wicked thing, carved into my heart – by @coffeeshib

[ 23.9k words | 2 chapters ] Post canon, the exes fight and fuck. It's sexy, violent, mean and angsty. It's very on-point characterisation, what can I say.

A Wretched Soul – by @motherconfessors

[ 31k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Ep 8 divergent. Agatha makes a new deal with Rio so she can get her purple back. A story of grief, healing, a lot of sex and... amazing food?

All and then Most of you, Some and now None of you – by @momentary-ecstasy

[ 34.5k words | multi-chapter ] Post-canon. Agatha succeeds at taking Death's powers. Rio wakes up with no memories. Captivating plot, lots of death, sex with strings attached, and a coven reunited. It's never simple with these two.

For You To Be Still – by @momentary-ecstasy

[ 27.4k words | multi-chapter ] To save Rio from the Snap's fallout, Agatha binds them together. A plotty, fascinating adventure also featuring the coven and the two dealing with their past.

coven of chaos – by @trickofthelights

[ 38.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio/Agatha/Wanda and their very weird found family. Crack taken seriously and written exquisitely well with thoughtful character explorations. It's fun and epic with great banter. Everyone lives!

you’ll sanctify me when i’m dead  – by @majorlysapphic

[ 26.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio has Hanahaki Disease and has to work with Agatha while hiding her plan to retire permanently. These two idiots, etc.

a hundred miles through the desert repenting – by @sapphoshands

[ 3.9k words | one-shot ] Perhaps my favourite ep 5 fix-it. Pain and pathos lovingly written.

Rabbit Heart – by @sapphoshands

[ 4.8k words | multi-chapter ] Post-finale scenes featuring our favourite Señor Scratchy, including a satisfying follow-up for our ship.

how the dead walk – by obsetress

[ 7.2k words | one-shot ] Post canon, these two talk and work out the logistics (and emotions) behind ghost sex.

meet you where the spirit meets the bones – by daniandjamie

[ 13.5k words | multi-chapter ] I know turbo virgin!Rio isn't for everyone. But if you enjoy it, this one's real cute and funny and an interesting take on how Death gets a body.

better in the dark – by @seabiscuits-us

[ 12.8k words | one-shot ] More turbo virgin!Rio trying to figure this shit out while Agatha enjoys the process. It's cute times before the inevitable heartbreak.

For the Love of Spring – by FleetingFriend

[ 10k words | one shot ] Post-AAA story. Rio turns into an onion, Agatha takes the opportunity to remember and grieve and heal. Maybe grab those tissues for the end.

As with many AUs, expect softer takes for these two unless the fic has y'know, killing and violence. Again, in no order:

Put Your Fangs In Me – by villhag

[ 73.9k words | multi-chapter | series | wip ] The other gold standard in AUs. Two vampire best friends with a lot of history are more than what they seem. What starts off like a rom com with casual murder reveals itself to be a heartbreaking love story spanning centuries.

honey come put your lips on mine (and shut me up) – by tinyteamug

[ 40.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Retired hockey pro-turned-publicist Agatha is tasked with managing feral hotshot hockey player Rio. A hilarious time with these two driving each other nuts in the best way.

primal night – by Palmarion

[ 13.2k words | multi-chapter ] Rio is another version of Death, Agatha is human and they meet one Halloween night at Rio’s bar. Nicky happens unexpectedly. A comforting romantic story.

all my might – by goofball46

[ 15.6k words | multi-chapter | wip ] After breaking up 10 years ago, the two have to pretend to be a couple (again) to help Agatha's political campaign. We do love our angst and unresolved drama. They're so bad at communicating.

To Hate Her is to Love Her – by @justasimplelesbiansfanfic

[ 166k words | multi-chapter | series ] Agatha gets her estranged wife Rio to pretend they’re still together for the holidays. A long, angsty slow burn with plot involving crime and the FBI, and these two figuring their issues out.

spite, grudges, and other underrated methods of processing your feelings – by @littledata

[ 10k words | one-shot ] If working for her ex (who sent her to jail) wasn’t enough, Rio’s been hired to kill her. All's fair in politics? It’s a fun ride.

How to not keep a secret – by disaster_top

[ 102k words | multi-chapter ] See I can recommend domestic Agathario playing house with Nicky. Rio loves her knives. A series of interconnected one-shots where they deal with different stuff. FBI Agent Rio and Detective Agatha (not Agnes).

queens of killing (we're out for blood) – by @succulentlesbians

[ 64.9k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Winter Soldier/Red Room AU. Plotty, dramatic, secret agent action. Plenty of angst when one was programmed to kill their own kid. Plus, coven team-bonding.

all half things – by @seabiscuits-us

[ 20.2k words | multi-chapter ] High school soccer coach Rio tries her best to make sure her super-pregnant teacher colleague Agatha doesn't go into labour while they try to save the school theatre department. It's charming and quirky with a side of drama.

this machine's a backward thinker – by @slowedshow

[ 35.7k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Lawyer Agatha, Doctor Rio AU. When Agatha decides to help her deceased client's son find his lost brother she didn't expect to find her way back to love and forgiveness. Brilliant parallels within this story and the show canon punched me hard in the feels.

my safeword is safeword – by @anonfandombandit

[ 63.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] The uh BDSM AU. It's wild, it's hilarious, it's uh very educational if you're unfamiliar with the scene? Agatha's insane and working off some bad trauma, Rio's desperately trying her best to remain professional. Naturally lots of kinky sex.

· · ────────── 𖥸 ────────── · ·

♥ to the fabulous authors giving us these stories

[unstuckbyers]

sometimes i have byler doubt (scarred by voltron) until i realize the duffers went to one of the best film schools in the united states and know damn well how to make everything obvious but not obvious.

everything in that show is hidden under a thick layer of subtext, just like how will's sexuality was built up from season one to season 4 using basically ONLY subtext and trusting people could see what was happening. that's why i think some people get so worked up about people pointing out stuff about mike's storyline. because they're not paying attention to the subtext. it's not supposed to be in your face. the whole point of subtext is to read into it

the duffers have previously said they dont like anything to be "too on the nose," which is exactly, almost by definition, what subtext helps get rid of. it's supposed to be up in the air because its not in your face. you're supposed to ask questions. that's what makes the reveal of it so fun, and why the show garners so many viewers despite its wicked gap between seasons.

they also love trope subversions:

— the first victim trope: the first person to die in a horror film is usually the "hot one" or the "sexually promiscuous" one to "punish them" in a sense, stranger things subverts this trope by instead having nancy live, and barb die. (not saying barb's ugly shes a beautiful woman)

— the final girl trope: the final girl in horror is usually the one who somehow makes it out alive despite not really being a fighter, being innocent and essentially using whatever they have to fend off the "bad guy". stranger things subverts this trope by explicitly making nancy confrontational, a fighter and just a badass overall.

— the madman in the asylum: subverted the trope of the "bad guy" in the asylum being the villain by instead making victor creel wholly and completely innocent. he's there not because of his own doing, but of his son's.

anyways, i think its kind of expected to doubt it, actually. you're supposed to expect one thing and then be absolutely shocked when that gets flipped on its head. but i could be wrong so who knows!

all i know is that at this point almost everyone is supposed to be empathizing with will, and we know the painting lie pays off in season 5. i don't think they can easily backpedal with will's feelings this late into the series, and even if they wanted to theyve backed themselves into a very cramped corner by making will say that he needs mike and he always will. he's not going to just move on. its mike or nothing for him, and i don't think the duffers are going to pretty much break the one character theyve consistently put through hell and back every single season.

for all my non film major friends on here <3 this is what subtext is and how it works in the narrative

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Season 1 Masterlist

A/N: Published every Saturday at 3:00 PM CDT! Taglist/Requests are open!!

Pilot

Wendigo

Dead in the Water

Phantom Traveler

Bloody Mary

Skin

Hook Man

Bugs

Home

Asylum

Scarecrow

Faith

Route 666

Nightmare

The Benders

Shadow

Hell House

Something Wicked

Provenance

Dead Man's Blood

Salvation/Devil's Trap

[lipgart11]

My wincest screenshots masterpost:

Season 1:

1. Pilot

2. Wendigo

3. Dead in the Water

4. Phantom traveler

5. Bloody Mary

6. Skin

7. Hook Man

8. Bugs

9. Home

10. Asylum

11. Scarecrow: 1 2

12. Faith: 1 2

13. Route 666

14. Nightmare

15. The Benders

16. Shadow: 1 2

17. Hell House

18. Something Wicked

19. Provenance

20. Dead Man's Blood

21. Salvation: 1 2

22. Devil's Trap

Season 2:

1. In My Time of Dying: 1 2

2. Everybody Loves a Clown: 1 2 3

3. Bloodlust: 1 2 3

4. Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things: 1 2 3 4 5

5. Simon Says: 1 2

6. No Exit

7. The Usual Suspects

8. Crossroad Blues: 1 2

9. Croatoan: 1 2 3 4 5

10. Hunted 1 2 3 4

11. Playthings 1 2 3 4

12. Nightshifter

13. Houses of the Holy 1 2 3 4

14. Born Under a Bad Sign 1 2

15. Tall Tales 1 2 3 4

16. Roadkill

[broidobe]

80s-90s rock masterlist ౨ৎ

౨ৎ here you'll find all of the 80s-90s bands i've written for UNLESS they have their own masterlist!

౨ৎ bands in this masterlist so far (it's always expanding): the cure, nirvana, aerosmith, pantera, ozzy osbourne (his band), poison, cinderella, type o negative, extreme, pearl jam, alice in chains, billy idol, danzig, soundgarden, kiss, def leppard, bon jovi, ramones, la guns, ac/dc, slayer, van halen, warrant, nine inch nails, queen, hole, faith no more, jeff buckley

౨ৎ smut= ❦ fluff= 𖤐 angst= 𓉸

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓮

robert

𓋹 dating robert smith would include

𝓷𝓲𝓻𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓪

kurt

𓋹 dating kurt cobain would include

𓋹 safe place 𖤐

𓋹 worshipped ❦ 𖤐

𝓪𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱

joe

𓋹 doctor 𖤐

𓋹 clink 𖤐

𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪

dimebag

𓋹 dating dimebag darrell would include

phil

𓋹 phil anselmo with a quiet reader

𓋹 unrelenting ❦

𝓸𝔃𝔃𝔂 𝓸𝓼𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮

zakk

𓋹 dating zakk wylde would include

𓋹 zakk wylde nsfw headcannons

𓋹 quiet afternoon 𖤐

𓋹 blush ❦

𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷

bret

𓋹 dating bret michaels would include

𓋹 bret michaels nsfw headcannons

𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪

tom

𓋹 tom keifer nsfw headcannons

𓋹 cozy evening 𖤐

𓋹 every little piece 𖤐

𓋹 too much for you ❦

𓋹 still gasping (pt. 2 of too much for you) ❦

𓋹 never meant 𖤐

𓋹 joyride (feat. axl) ❦

𓋹 wretched tide 𓉸

𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮

peter

𓋹 being married to peter steele would include

𓋹 peter steele dating a younger reader would include

𓋹 colossal ❦

josh

𓋹 dating josh silver would include

𓋹 shake the weight 𖤐

𓋹 signed up for ❦

𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮

nuno

𓋹 dating nuno bettencourt would include

𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵 𝓳𝓪𝓶

stone

𓋹 dating stone gossard would include

𓋹 you're quiet ❦

𓋹 beneath the static 𓉸 ❦

eddie

𓋹 dating eddie vedder would include

𓋹 in the mountains 𖤐

matt

𓋹 no direction 𖤐

𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼

sean

𓋹 dating sean kinney would include

𓋹 sean kinney nsfw headcannons

𓋹 sean kinney nsfw alphabet

𓋹 drummer and a savings bond 𖤐 ❦

𓋹 the whole damn thing 𖤐 𓉸

𓋹 orbiting 𓉸

jerry

𓋹 jerry cantrell nsfw headcannons

𓋹 start of a song 𖤐

𓋹 stale smoke 𓉸 𖤐

layne

𓋹 lazy, dangerous ❦

𓋹 crawling in the dark 𓉸 𖤐

𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓼

billy

𓋹 chanel ❦

𝓭𝓪𝓷𝔃𝓲𝓰

john

𓋹 dating john christ would include

𓋹 incense ❦

𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷

chris

𓋹 dating chris cornell would include

𓋹 chris cornell nsfw headcannons

𓋹 chris cornell and the softness only you see

𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼

eric

𓋹 asylum 𖤐 ❦ (very light smut/barely any lol. it's more spice)

𓋹 strutter 𖤐 ❦

ace

𓋹 starry-eyed ❦

𝓭𝓮𝓯 𝓵𝓮𝓹𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓭

rick savage

𓋹 only you 𓉸 𖤐

joe

𓋹 dating joe elliot could include

rick allen

𓋹 ghosted ❦

𝓫𝓸𝓷 𝓳𝓸𝓿𝓲

richie

𓋹 dating richie sambora would include

𓋹 richie sambora nsfw headcannons

jon

𓋹 wicked love ❦ 𖤐

𓋹 the watcher (feat. axl) ❦

𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼

dee dee

𓋹 dating dee dee ramone would include

joey

𓋹 how deep is your love? ❦ 𖤐

𓋹 fucking dump ❦ 𖤐 𓉸

𝓵𝓪 𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼

kelly

𓋹 dating kelly nickels would include

𝓪𝓬𝓭𝓬

the whole band

𓋹 how you met the members of ac/dc

𝓼𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻

jeff

𓋹 dating jeff hanneman would include

𝓿𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷

sammy

𓋹 shy type ❦

david

𓋹 milk and honey ❦

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽

jani

𓋹 dating jani lane would include

𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼

trent

𓋹 hushed devotion ❦

𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷

brian

𓋹 brian may nsfw alphabet

𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮

courtney

𓋹 malibu 𓉸 𖤐

𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮

mike

𓋹 lonely drinker 𖤐 ❦ (spice)

𝓳𝓮𝓯𝓯 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝔂

jeff

𓋹 jeff buckley dating headcannons

[marvelousels]

THROUGH THE STATIC | 1

(pt 2 here!)

authors note — sorry but im just so delusional wishing this was true, i love imagining that my fav characters randomly come to our world and "I DO BELIEVE THAT A MULTIVERSE EXISTS!" i say as i get dragged to the mental asylum.

pairings: jinx x fem!reader (js freinds for now ig)

DISCO! — Nessa Barrett FT Tommy Genesis playing!

The dim glow of the television screen bathed your living room in shifting hues of blue and purple. You lay sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting precariously on your stomach. The credits for the latest episode of Arcane had just finished rolling, and the Netflix autoplay countdown ticked ominously toward the next. But you didn’t hit “Skip Intro.” Not yet.

Jinx. There she was again, center frame in your mind. Her wild, electric energy. Her piercing blue eyes. That wicked grin that danced somewhere between childlike joy and dangerous insanity. Something about her had always captivated you, far beyond any rational explanation. She was chaos incarnate, yet there was a vulnerability beneath her bravado that pulled you in like a magnet. Watching her felt like staring into a storm: terrifying, exhilarating, and impossible to look away from.

You sighed and reached for the remote, ready to plunge into another episode, when the screen suddenly froze. A flicker. Then another. The sound cut out, replaced by a low, staticky hum. Frowning, you sat up, placing the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, hitting the power button. Nothing. The screen stayed on, the image of Jinx’s manic grin distorting slightly as if she were underwater.

The hum grew louder. A sharp crackle followed, and the colors on the screen began to bleed together in a way that made your eyes ache. You got up, hesitant but drawn closer by a mix of curiosity and unease. Maybe the TV was just overheating. Maybe the signal was—

Without warning, the screen flared bright white, and a shockwave of static knocked you backward. You hit the floor with a grunt, shielding your eyes from the blinding light. The air felt charged, humming with an almost electric tension.

When the light finally dimmed, you lowered your arm cautiously. The TV was off. The room was eerily quiet except for your own breathing. Then you heard it. A groan. Not yours.

You froze. Slowly, you turned your head toward the sound, your heart pounding in your chest.

Lying sprawled across the floor, half on top of you, was Jinx.

At first, your brain couldn’t process what you were seeing. She was impossibly real. Her wild blue braids, the smudged makeup around her eyes, even the faint scars on her arms—every detail was vivid, tangible. She groaned again, shifting slightly, and you felt the weight of her pressing down on your legs.

“What the hell?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Her eyes snapped open. For a split second, they were unfocused, darting around the room in confusion. Then they locked onto yours. Blue and intense, just like on the screen, but filled with a raw, terrifying energy that made your breath catch.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp and accusing. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing for a weapon that wasn’t there. Her hands patted down her sides frantically before she cursed under her breath.

You sat up slowly, your hands raised instinctively in a placating gesture. “Whoa, whoa, hold on. I—I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She narrowed her eyes, backing up until her shoulders hit the wall. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The modern furniture. The framed photos. The TV. Her expression shifted from defensive to bewildered.

“Where am I?” she muttered, almost to herself. Then, louder, “What is this place?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say? Hi, welcome to my living room. You’re supposed to be a fictional character.

“Hey!” she snapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I asked you a question.”

“You’re… in my house,” you stammered. “And… uh, you came out of the TV?”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. She glanced back at the darkened screen, then back at you. “Bullshit.”

“I swear!” you said quickly, holding your hands up again. “One minute I was watching you—I mean, watching Arcane—and then the screen freaked out, and you…” You gestured vaguely at her. “You appeared.”

Jinx’s eyes narrowed further, but the initial panic seemed to ebb slightly, replaced by a cautious curiosity. She took a step closer, looming over you with an almost predatory intensity.

“You know who I am?” she asked, her tone somewhere between suspicion and amusement.

You swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah. Jinx. From… Arcane. You’re… kind of famous here.”

“Famous?” Her lips curled into a grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re a… a character. From a TV show.” The words felt ridiculous as they left your mouth, but there was no other way to explain it.

Her grin faltered. She stared at you, her head tilting slightly as if trying to gauge whether you were messing with her. Finally, she sighed and ran a hand through her braids.

“A TV show,” she repeated flatly.

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re… fictional. Or, you’re supposed to be. I don’t know how you got here.”

Jinx’s expression darkened. Her eyes darted back to the TV, then to her hands, flexing her fingers as if to reassure herself she was real. “Fictional,” she muttered, almost to herself. “That’s… no. That’s insane.”

“Trust me, I’m just as confused as you are,” you said. “But you’re here. Somehow.”

She paced the room, her movements jerky and restless. “This has to be some kind of trick,” she said, half to herself. “Some sick game. Did Sevika put you up to this? Or Silco? Is this one of their mind-fucks?”

“I don’t know who—” You cut yourself off, realizing it was pointless. Of course she thought this was some kind of trap. Her whole life was a series of betrayals and manipulation. Why would this be any different?

“Listen,” you said carefully, “I don’t know how or why you’re here, but I’m not your enemy. I’m just… a random person who happened to be watching TV when you showed up. That’s it.”

She stopped pacing, her gaze snapping back to you. Her expression was unreadable, her blue eyes scanning your face as if searching for any hint of deception. Finally, she sighed and ran a hand through her braids.

“Okay,” she said, though her tone was far from convinced. “Let’s say I believe you. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. What were you supposed to do? You were just an ordinary person. You didn’t have the faintest idea how to deal with something like this.

“I guess… we figure it out,” you said finally. “Together.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Together, huh?”

You nodded, trying to muster some confidence. “Yeah. I mean, you’re stuck here, right? Might as well work with me instead of against me.”

She considered this for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t get any ideas, ‘cause if you try anything funny…” She mimed an explosion with her hands, grinning wickedly.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was more from nerves than amusement. “Noted.”

And just like that, your ordinary life had been turned upside down. As Jinx plopped onto your couch, grabbing a handful of popcorn like she owned the place, you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell you’d just gotten yourself into.

Hours later, the reality of your situation began to sink in. Jinx had settled into your living room like a storm that refused to pass, alternating between questioning you about this world and exploring the space with a manic, childlike curiosity. She’d found your stash of snacks and immediately laid claim to a bag of chips, cramming them into her mouth with zero regard for crumbs.

“So this world,” she said around a mouthful of chips, “you’re saying it’s nothing like Zaun or Piltover?”

You shook your head, watching her from the other end of the couch. “Nope. No Hextech. No shimmer. No… well, no war, at least not like yours.”

She snorted. “Sounds boring.”

“It’s… peaceful,” you offered.

She rolled her eyes. “Peace is overrated.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Despite the chaos she radiated, there was something oddly endearing about her. She was a whirlwind of contradictions—reckless yet calculating, wild yet wounded. And now, she was your problem.

“So,” she said, turning her attention back to you, “how do we fix this? How do I get back?”

“I… don’t know,” you admitted. “I’m not exactly an expert on… whatever this is. Reality-hopping? Dimensional travel? It’s way out of my league.”

She groaned, flopping dramatically onto her back. “Great. Just great. Stuck in a world full of… what do you even do here? Sit around and stare at screens all day?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a chuckle. “But hey, maybe it won’t be so bad. You might even like it here.”

She gave you a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, she propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze lingering on you longer than felt entirely comfortable.

“You’re weird,” she said finally, though there was no malice in her tone. If anything, it sounded almost… amused.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, surprising yourself with the ease of your response.

Jinx blinked, then grinned. A real grin this time, not the manic, unhinged one you’d seen earlier. For a moment, she looked almost human. Almost.

“Maybe this won’t be so boring after all,” she said, grabbing another handful of chips.

You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified. Either way, one thing was certain: life as you knew it was never going to be the same.