#complicated dynamics

[b1uemayhem]

Infamous Deviance

wowie

Chapter 2

Markus' voice pulls you back from your wandering thoughts, and you realize that daydreaming has become a bit of a habit lately. Shaking your head to regain focus, the first word that reaches your ears is your name. "Is something bothering you? You seem a bit off," he inquires. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you take a deep breath and respond with a confident smile. “Absolutely! I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed by all this chaos.” You chuckle lightly and add, "I could really use your help with something important. Do you have a moment?" Your smile widens, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He seems to see through your facade but stays silent, giving you a subtle nod as he steps closer.

"Look, I know it’s risky," you say firmly, drawing a deep breath and letting out a weary sigh as you try to gather your thoughts. "I’ve heard the warnings from everyone." A flicker of a smile dances across his lips for a fleeting moment, only to vanish again as he struggles to keep his emotions in check, his features set in a mask of determination. You don’t linger on it, instead focusing on the urgency of the situation. "We need to infiltrate the CyberLife warehouse once again, and we can't afford to mess up this time."

You fix Markus with a sharp glare, memories of the last mission flooding back. You recall how he impulsively rushed to save another android from a Rottweiler attack, a split-second decision that cost them dearly; supplies wasted and that android lost. Frustration simmers just beneath the surface as you huff, recalling that reckless moment that almost unraveled everything.

"You're right, and I truly apologize for my past mistakes. I won’t let it happen again. This time, we’ll be thoroughly prepared," he replies, a hopeful smile playing on his features, though you can’t shake the memory of his similar promises—so full of conviction yet leading to disappointment. "I promise you," Markus insists, his voice steady, his eyes shining with a fierce determination that momentarily softens the tension in the air.

You give a slight nod, your eyes drifting over to North, who watches Markus with a mix of admiration and affection. His words ignite a flicker of hope within her. A smile unconsciously spreads across your face as you feel a wave of warmth at the thought, you quickly glance down, trying to mask that goofy grin. "Alright, Markus. I’ll be counting on you to keep that promise this time," you say, laughter threading through your words as your gaze finds Markus once more. "Don’t let me—" you hesitate for a moment to consider your words carefully, before adding, "Us, down."

______________________________________________________________

You carefully slip a cold, metallic gun into your bag, the only essential item you’ll need. The remaining space in your bag will soon be packed with anything you can scavenge. With a determined sigh, you sling the bag over your shoulder and rush down the creaking staircase, the dim light from the fires placed in each corner of the room casting long shadows around you. As you enter the vast, darkened room, your senses heighten; the flickering flames of several small fires provide a meager glow, creating a flickering ambiance that enhances the tense atmosphere.

Your gaze lands on Markus, who stands confidently at the center of your group, exuding a calm authority amidst the uncertainty. His sharp eyes catch yours, and with a subtle nod, he signals that you have arrived just in time. You focus in on his voice, steady and resolute, as it cuts through the murmur of your peers: “Now that everyone’s here, we should get going. The sooner we leave, the better.” His words resonate with urgency, and you can feel the collective agreement in the air, a silent understanding that this journey has been long overdue. It’s clear others around you have prepared meticulously.

______________________________________________________________

As the warehouse looms into view, a sense of foreboding washes over you, making you blink rapidly to process the scene unfolding before you. The heavy air seems charged with tension, and an unsettling feeling tightens in the pit of your stomach. You swallow deeply, trying to dispel the unease that threatens to halt your progress. Determined not to let discomfort deter you, you briskly follow your group, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

As you draw closer to the warehouse, a pesky drone buzzes by, its whirring sound slicing through the thick silence. You lean in to whisper urgently to the group, "We need to handle that, Markus." Locking eyes with him, you add, "You dealt with it last time we were here. Mind doing it again?" He nods resolutely, and while you expect that to be the extent of the exchange, you're pleasantly surprised when he confidently replies, "Leave it to me."

You watch in awe as he swiftly assesses the situation, his eyes narrowing in concentration. In mere moments, he devises an efficient plan to take down the drone and executes it flawlessly. Just then, North’s voice breaks through your thoughts, drawing your attention. "Let's get going. The sooner we grab what we need, the sooner we can leave before the humans arrive." Her urgency resonates with you, and you nod, resuming your pursuit as she leads the way, with Markus trailing behind again.

Finally, you stand before a towering mountain of cargo boxes, each one brimming with supplies that could be vital for your people’s survival. With a surge of adrenaline, you dash toward one of the boxes, pulling a rusty knife from your pocket. Though the blade is worn and marred by months of wear and exposure to the elements, it still proves effective as you pry open the box with a satisfying pop. You peer inside, excitement bubbling within you as you grab handfuls of supplies, stuffing them eagerly into your bag until it hangs heavy by your side.

Noticing that the box still holds a wealth of items, you signal Simon with a quick gesture to help himself as well. He moves over to the box and begins gathering supplies, just as you anticipated.

As you wait for the others to finish, time stretches out, and you quietly scan your surroundings. Suddenly, you feel a warm hand resting gently on your shoulder. It’s Simon, his gaze serious and contemplative. After a moment of silence, he speaks, “We’ve got more than enough supplies to last us a few more weeks, assuming no one gets hurt in the meantime.” His gloomy outlook hangs in the air like a storm cloud, causing you to furrow your brow in concern. Why jump to the conclusion that someone will get hurt? Despite the gravity of his words hanging in the air, you choose to dismiss his comment with a nonchalant nod, striving to shove aside the unwelcome thoughts that cling stubbornly to your mind. Just as uncertainty threatens to take root, Markus steps in, breaking the tension. “Let’s get going then; there’s no reason to linger any longer,” he suggests, his tone decisive. You and North both nod in agreement, the synchronized motion reflecting a shared understanding.

______________________________________________________________

After an arduous journey fraught with challenges, you finally find your way back to Jericho, your arms heavy with carefully gathered supplies—blue blood, biocomponents, each item a testament to your resourcefulness. As you survey the landscape around you, your heart aches at the sight of the weary faces surrounding you, each a story of struggle and survival. A profound wave of compassion washes over you, yet a sobering realization settles in: your skills are limited, and you can only truly help yourself.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, you reflect on the dire needs of your community. It becomes clear that the supplies you've collected would be of far greater benefit in the hands of those who possess the knowledge and experience to utilize them effectively. With a heavy heart but a resolute spirit, you make the difficult decision to entrust the supplies to Markus, North, and Simon. Each of them has demonstrated remarkable expertise, and you recognize that the resources you've gathered could truly bring hope and relief to those in distress.

With a mixture of sorrow and hope, you approach them, carefully handing over the items, feeling the weight of responsibility shift from your shoulders. You watch as they begin to organize the supplies, discussing among themselves the best strategies for distribution and care. In that moment, you hold on to the hope that your contributions will ease the suffering of others and bring a semblance of comfort to this weary community. You take a deliberate step back, your gaze tracking Markus as he sprints towards an android, which teeters precariously on the edge of total shutdown, one of many. Its metallic frame is a testament to years of wear, marked by an array of scratches, dents, and corroded patches that tell the story of countless encounters. The once-lifelike skin, designed to mimic human appearance, is now fading in places, revealing the complex circuitry that lies beneath like exposed veins. Each of the android’s movements is labored, a testament to the struggle against impending obsolescence, as it fights to maintain functionality with every jerky motion. The dim glow of its internal lights flickers erratically, casting an eerie illumination that highlights the stark contrast between its advanced technology and the fragility of its state. Markus kneels down with supplies in hand and starts to replace worn-out biocomponents. Suddenly, he turns his head toward you and asks for your knife. You look at him in confusion for a moment, but then you quickly nod and run over, placing the knife in his palm. He grips it tightly and then grabs a bag of blue blood. He punctures a small hole in the front of the bag before tilting it towards the android's mouth, it grips onto his wrist for support slowly swallowing the thirum that runs down its throat. The vivid scene before you brings a warm smile to your face as you watch Markus, radiating compassion. His gentle demeanor fills your heart with hope for the future, igniting a spark that maybe, just maybe, you all can rescue more of your kind from their bleak existence.

As you turn away from Markus, your gaze settles on North, Simon, and Josh, each diligently tending to other androids in need. The sight stirs an unexpected wave of guilt within you, as you grapple with feelings of inadequacy in this realm of compassion. While you've always possessed the ability to repair yourself when necessary, extending that help to others proves to be a daunting challenge. You possess an intricate understanding of the multifaceted complexities intricately woven into the very fabric of your model—correcting any latent flaws within it would come as second nature to you. Yet, the stark reality remains that only a select few androids ever manage to extricate themselves from the suffocating grip of the Eden Club, a place fraught with despair and commodification. In sharp contrast, Jericho stands as a hauntingly desolate refuge for those of your kind, echoing with the silence of countless unfulfilled dreams.

The mere utterance of the Eden Club sends a chilling wave coursing through your core, stirring a maelstrom of memories tied to your desperate escape and the horrific act of violence that precipitated it. Those memories, vivid and unrelenting, linger like dark shadows, always hovering just out of reach, taunting you with their presence. Despite your fervent attempts to flee from the ghosts of your past, they cling to you, leaving an indelible mark and a profound loathing for their relentless grip on your psyche. This struggle, an eternal battle between liberation and the haunting weight of recollection, shapes your every thought, casting an undeniable shadow over your existence. You let out a long, weary sigh, attempting to push the relentless thoughts away as you’ve trained yourself to do in the past. However, as you drift away from your group and ascend the worn, creaking stairs that spiral deeper into the heart of Jericho, you find this time the memories cling to you with a tenacity that feels almost physical, a shadow that refuses to be shaken off. Visions of your past invade your mind, a turbulent kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within, and a heavy lump forms in your throat—one that feels impossibly lodged, suffocating your breath. The face of your former significant other haunts you like a specter, an echo of a time that now feels like a distant, faded dream.

The memories are relentless, wrapping around you like a dense fog that envelops in a chilling embrace, thick and suffocating. Each thought is a flickering ghost, whispering reminders of those days now shrouded in bittersweet nostalgia. You recall the twinkle of mischief in his deep-set eyes, a glimmer that once sparked joy in your heart, now transformed into haunting remnants of what you know now. The sound of his laughter—rich, contagious, and effervescent—resonates in your mind, filling the air with a warmth that once felt like home, now only a painful echo that sharpens the ache with every recollection.

It’s an arduous battle to reconcile the incandescent love that once blazed fiercely within the depths of your soul with the cavernous emptiness that now settles heavily in your chest, like a stone, leaving you to ponder whether you can even call him your partner anymore. Was he ever truly that? He enveloped you in a stifling embrace, confining you to a dim and oppressive realm that stripped away your sense of self, compelling you to act out for those whose very presence filled you with revulsion.

You loathed every action you were coerced into taking, yet you lingered, clinging desperately to the hope of hearing him murmur sweet nothings that once felt like delicate echoes of genuine affection. He skillfully twisted your will, ensnaring you in a web of abhorrent demands that you felt compelled to fulfill. Whatever a human’s imagination conjured, you had no alternative but to comply, as if bound by invisible chains. It was profoundly disturbing to behold the dreadful depths of the human psyche, especially when reduced to treating you, a mere "doll," as an object merely for their fleeting gratification. To them, you were stripped of your essence, merely a plaything to satiate their basest desires. It was a dangerous illusion he created, spun from his artful manipulation—a symphony of words designed to ensnare your heart and mind.

As you reflect on the past, the truth crystallizes with piercing clarity: you were merely a pawn in his cruel and calculated game. He expertly lured you into a trance of vulnerability, wrapping you in a deceptive cocoon of love until the day you finally shattered beneath the suffocating weight of it all. You had to leave—to reclaim the fragmented pieces of yourself and embark on the difficult journey of rediscovering the truth of who you are, free from the chains of his oppressive grasp. It was a painful yet necessary step toward liberation, allowing the light of self-discovery to penetrate the shadows of your past. You mustn't remember anything more it'll do you no good.

[chaoswiththeprettyspine]

*plays slipping through my fingers by ABBA*

This was made for this tumblr post I made a while ago.

[chamerionwrites]

Also, there is so much hand-wringing over the ethics of BDSM and while obviously it is worth taking care about ...sensation seeking is a thing. Many, many people enjoy eating habanero peppers and/or watching movies that make them cry. The conceptual leap from there to the idea that it's possible for sex to hurt good is a very short one, and sometimes it REALLY is as simple as that.

[sweeneydino]

When it becomes part of them (Timeline)

Attempting to replicate the shows storyboards.

Technically their mystics pop up sporadically in season 1, until Leo in showdown. Then the others in season 2. Once they do, its a matter of time to master it, with some bumps in the road ofc.

Look at the little anime protagonists

And then the ending of season 2 comes along-

Edited with more 2003 markings 👆 (might keep it)

[qaanngi]

Hapee seasonal 🎄

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage: Redemption 3x5- "The Grand Complication Job"

[sparkoflena]

As somebody who has written Batfamily fanfiction (mostly for myself but I have like two things public), Bruce Wayne's relationship with his kids will always be the hardest part.

Yeah, I could fanon it. But I do try my hardest to be at least vaguely canon-compliant in terms of characterizations/relationships.

BUT the history of Bruce Wayne as a father changes depending on the author you read, which Robin is Robin-ing at the time, and what trauma Bruce happens to be going through. Is he going to be deeply supportive of his kids and attend their events and be both awkward and proud? Is he going to hit his kids? Who knows, certainly not DC writers.

(I'm of the opinion that Bruce Lost-His-Parents-At-A-Young-Age & Adopted-Kids-Like-Him-To-Build-A-Family-He-Didn't-Have-As-A-Child Wayne ABSOLUTELY should be a Good Parent[TM], albeit a bit Overprotective Dad. But there are only a handful of authors who follow this depiction)

[emillungs]

she could have killed you in the hall and she didn’t. ask yourself why and how you might use that weakness against her.

okay so the first episodes made me spiral (again)

[egophiliac]

Since book 7 part 5 (the part where we meet Meleanor/Maleanor 👀) is coming to EN this month, i would love to see your take on lilia’s proposal to meleanor! i mean they were like little kids right? it couldn’t have been that serious…i think the only reason she even brought it up again is because she could tell lilia still genuinely loved her…(even if he didn’t realize it himself?) but, oh well! Let’s think about silly childhood shenanigans to numb the pain! ^_^ (orz)

oh shit?! get ready for a doozy guys, it's comiiiiiing ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I chickened out of posting the whole thing (look, I get VERY carried away when it comes to these wacky kids and their Tragedy), but I do believe that it probably ended with Lilia getting embarrassed and just shoving the first thing he sees into his mouth to try and cover for it.

(we're just lucky it wasn't a frog this time)

[aroaceleovaldez]

we as a fandom need to bring back minor character x minor character ships because whatever was in the water with Katie Gardner x Travis Stoll is fascinating and i wanna know why that happened and we need more of that.

[aniimoni]

Here, you can have some test pages. Been tired and slumped with school work, was finally able to breathe yesterday.

I’ve had this comic in mind for a while, and I had drawn it out (I redrew it), these are only the first 2 pages. I don’t think I’ll get to the full thing. There’s another thing i’m working on 🐛

Context? I’m not sure if I want to keep this in the canon HtK lore, but it was fun to get back into making these. Also, coming up with petty nicknames is super fun. I think the lamb would have plenty for him. Mister Waits is perfectly patronizing and reminds him of his past, they’re just smart like that.

I like to think that they had all these ideas for nicknames stored, but were never really able to use them. Now that he’s free and out-and-about, it’s one of their ways of letting their anger out on him in the most passive-aggressive and socially acceptable way possible.

But isn’t passive-aggressiveness bad? Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going for 👨🏻‍🔬 They have a very unhealthy way of thinking that has developed, which ends up affecting everyone around them, whether they intended it or not.

I’ve had a ton of time to think about their character (aka: lying awake at night and daydreaming), there’s so much I could talk about, but not enough time/energy lmao

one of my favorite panels

[sofiaruelle]

*Snorts*

I just wanted to draw Anya in the shirt. Curly just happened as a trauma response /lh. Jkjkjkjk his babygurlification pre-crash is healing.

[myokk]

she has him wrapped around her little finger😇🤞

[softkostyk]

no because the thing about rupert is that he has been making terrible choices for years. he’s lost his passion, he’s lost his family, he fills his life with səx to get by, to feel something good. and then taggie shows up and she’s just so kind and sweet and beautiful and the realest thing rupert’s ever laid his eyes on. angel, he calls her, because that’s what she is to him. so of course he wants her. but that’s not all, because for the first time in forever, rupert has a reason, a push to want to be better. have you noticed how every time taggie is upset about something that happened or something he did, he immediately does everything he can to make up for it? It’s because before her, he didn’t care—or didn’t want to care—about hurting people or doing the wrong thing. but taggie makes him want to be good. for her. for himself. he is fully aware of his feelings for this young woman he cannot keep his eyes off, and when he seeks out cameron again it’s purely because he thinks he can never have taggie…but try as he might, he’s not able to move on. and taggie??? her mother considers her an idiot, her father considers her a little girl, she’s trying to find out what her place is, where she fits in, and rupert is the only person in her life that is completely encouraging and who believes in her potential (see how he compliments both her cooking and says she’s good with the campaign). he’s the only person who sees she’s twisting herself every which way to make everyone happy, and he’s the first to tell her she doesn’t have to be perfect all the time. and she’s fascinated, obviously, but it’s more than that. It’s rupert being silly to make her laugh, it’s her face falling when she realizes he has yet again been with another woman, it’s her anger when she finds out declan told rupert not to touch her. but they gravitate towards each other, because they’ve come into each other lives at exactly the right time. gosh season 2 cannot come fast enough

[chloesimaginationthings]

What is the relationship between Michael and Gregory like?

I’d say like dysfunctional brothers

[sthilarions]

During a case many years ago, a witch made a poppet (roughly equivalent to the popular conception of a “voodoo doll”) of Edwin. They defeated the witch soundly and got the poppet, but there’s no safe way to destroy it. The only place Edwin and Charles trust as safe enough to keep it is inside Charles’s backpack, where no one but Charles could possibly get to it.

Charles largely forgets about it, buried deep deep down in the bag, until Edwin is held captive, less than a year after their jaunt to Hell, and there’s absolutely no way to get to him until the portal opens again at the next full moon, and he’s going crazy with worry, imagining Edwin in all sorts of misery without Charles not even able to so much as comfort him. He’s digging mindlessly through the bag when he gets to the poppet, and, he realizes, there is this one thing he can do.

He pulls it out with a care he wouldn’t give to a Faberge egg, because this is the most precious thing in the world, in any world, and looks at it for a moment. Then he reaches out ever so gently and strokes its hair. He murmurs reassurances to it - it’s alright, I’m sorry, I love you. He sings lullabies, curls around it and hugs it against him so, so carefully, tilts his head down and presses kisses to its soft curl-covered head.

He doesn’t let the poppet go for even a moment on all the days until the full moon returns, even as he’s preparing for battle, preparing to absolutely fucking obliterate the bastards that are holding Edwin.

Just as the portal opens, he finally places the poppet back in his bag, in the safest, warmest corner. He hefts the arsenal in his arms and strapped to his back and floating around him and charges through.

He tears through the stronghold in minutes, and he does literally mean through - he’s left a trail of smoking rubble behind him where ghost-proof walls used to be - and finally, finally gets to Edwin, and -

“Ah, Charles, there you are. Not to worry, I’m quite alright. There has been some sort of force - “

Charles doesn’t even hear him as he wraps himself around Edwin, and his body follows the same motions it has for weeks now, stroking hair, pressing kisses, murmuring muffled you’re alright I love you you’re alright I’m sorry I love you I’m sorrys into Edwin’s hair, which is even softer in reality than on the poppet, and Edwin says -

“Ah. That was you.”

Charles can’t see or hear anything other than Edwin, at the moment, but he can’t not see Edwin, so he has a very clear view as Edwin reaches his arms out and, with a few words, takes control of all the magical weapons and orbs and so forth that have been trailing after Charles.

And he hears when Edwin says “Well, then, Charles, shall we depart?”

And he feels it when Edwin lifts him as effortlessly as he lifted the poppet, holding him so he can keep his nose buried against Edwin’s neck as Edwin blasts his way out.

And he definitely feels it when, a few very loud minutes later, they’re back in their office, and Edwin’s head turns to meet one of his kisses.

“It’s alright, Charles. I’m sorry I left you alone. I love you.”