#(i'm trying to get back into being active here ;^; )

[reikoinoue]

♡ tomorrow’s catch-22 ♡

caleb, sylus, xavier, rafayel, zayne

warnings + notes: manipulation, sedation, cnc (consensual nonconsent), read at your own caution ♡

i tried really hard to not write something for this banner, but there's been thoughts brewing in my head, despite me not being interested in obtaining this banner. so, this one is for all of you girlies out there who are super hyped for this event.

this is by no means close to canon, just my personal take on things ♡

radiation, contamination, chaos...

several years ago, an unprecedented disaster plunged this city into a lunatic abyss.

growing, mutating, losing control...

the prisoners in danger have long been excited.

is it deception, or a willing descent? driven mad by the contamination, they are...

"praedators."

the sounds of your footsteps echo throughout the facility as you flipped through the reports on your clipboard, eager to begin your assessment for the 5 praedators. admittedly, the prisoners had an almost wild look to them, further accentuating their masculine beauty. a part of you knew that you should keep your distance and complete your search for their respective activators within the allotted time-

yet still, you couldn’t deny the anticipation that courses through your veins at the thought of interacting with them. smoothing back your uniform, you stand outside the first cell...

[ he is an ambitious politician who is eyeing the entire city. ]

perses, the councilman, meets your gaze while donning a confident smirk, yet you knew that face all too well. he was once your childhood friend known as caleb, a man who once swore to protect you with his life now turned mad due to the contamination the city had succumbed to.

his magenta eyes darkened considerably with hunger now, with him fighting against the restraints placed on his wrists, clearly trying to reach you. he lets out a bark of your name, "this wasn't the reunion i was expecting, pipsqueak."

you maintain a neutral expression, coming closer to caleb as a predatory gleam was seen in his gaze. with each step that you take, you watch as caleb lets out a wince, his breathing turning even more labored, "you're in pain right now, correct? i'm here to help you."

your voice manages to soothe him, calming him enough that your former childhood friend stops fighting against his restraints. getting down on your knees, you caught the way caleb's breath hitches in response, eyes suddenly being eclipsed by darkness at the mere sight of you. as you assessed his body, you saw something glittering, settled on the base of his chest.

your gloved hand reaches out to take the dog tag in your hand, "this necklace i gave you, you still kept it?"

a flash of tenderness was seen in his gaze for a brief moment, but it was gone just seconds later, replaced by a defiance that made your blood boil in response. you grip at the pendant, earning a smirk from caleb, "what are you doing?"

you didn't answer him, choosing instead to shove it within his mouth, earning a grunt from him. "didn't i tell you before that you'd be more attractive if you shut up?" making quick work of examining his body, you trail your hands down his back, feeling him stiffen before letting out a gasp.

you immediately step away from him, feeling your eyes go wide when caleb manages to break apart his constraints, "since you chose to enter this room... you'll take responsibility for what happens next, right?"

you tremble, seeing the growing madness within his gaze as caleb takes slow and deliberate strides closer to you, his smirk growing by the seconds while stating, "what? scared? keep up this act of being all high and mighty, and you'll regret it."

before you could save yourself and escape from the confines of this prison, caleb already grips at your wrists, pinning you against a nearby wall as his fingertips dance around your center, tracing at your inner thigh as a wolfish grin spreads across his devastating features. "the path ahead is treacherous... so why don't we lose ourselves in each other?"

your gasp was quickly swallowed by caleb's searing kiss, with his large hands gripping at your sides as he quickly tears the leather skirt of your uniform off of you, leaving you in your lace panties. a low growl of satisfaction was heard coming from caleb when he kneels before you, sliding off your panties while chuckling at the moisture left in the fabric.

"you've always been needy for me, even now..." not wasting another second, caleb gets down on his knees before pressing his hot lips against your aching cunt, making you cry out to him as you delved your hands into his hair. you felt him slipping his tongue within your slick folds, collecting all of the moisture as your legs trapped him against you.

feeling your release quickly approaching, you arch your back against the wall-

yet before you could even cum within his mouth, caleb pulls away from you, placing a harsh bite against your swollen clit as you nearly cried out in frustration.

"oh, i don't think so... this will be my revenge for you disrespecting me so blatantly within this cell." he hoists your body against the wall once more, sliding down his leather pants as he revealed his cock to you. your mouth salivates at the sight, allowing caleb to spread your legs before impaling you with his cock.

you cling to him, sobbing from how full caleb was making you feel while he fucks you against the wall. he lets out a dark chuckle in response, "what happened to all that courage?" he asks you with another powerful thrust all while letting out a shuddering breath of your name. he hides his face within the curve of your neck while whispering within your ear, "are you doing this out of pity? then... when the night is over... will you stay with me?" he breathes in your scent before biting down against your shoulder, "will you descend into hell with me?"

with the way caleb was making you feel, you found it hard to deny him, knowing that you would follow him anywhere and everywhere with his cock buried so sweetly inside of you.

[ you better have your last words ready before this man knocks on your door. ]

his back was facing you, tartarus, the mysterious assassin, quietly waits within his cell (a cage, fitting for a madman like sylus). you place the clipboard to the side, adjusting your uniform before taking out the ring of keys. finding the correct one, you made quick work of unlocking the cage and stepping inside.

fastening the keys back on your hips, you call out to him, earning a dark chuckle from the madman, "how did it feel to watch me?"

his crimson gaze meets with your neutral expression, and when you take a step forward, sylus immediately began to pull at his restraints in an attempt to grab you, "you scared?"

you shake your head and spoke in even tones, "i'm only here to help you ease your pain. the contamination has already spread through your nerves."

sylus tosses his head back, letting out a harsh laughter, "oh sweetie, your idea of help is heartwarming. why don't you come closer, little bird? help me come outside the cage... come, just a little more."

you remain still, not daring to move an inch closer as you felt a bead of sweat running down your cheek, "when you approach your prey, you must ensure your own safety first. you taught me this, sylus."

“prey…?” sylus remains unfazed, with an almost amused expression painting his features. knowing that you had to swallow your discomfort and fear, you step closer to sylus and walk around his form, assessing his body for any signs of the activator.

you keep your eyes honed in on him, listening to his soft breathing and grunts a little too intently. you stop walking around him, eyes drawn to the middle of his chest when you reach out to him-

only to be stopped when you felt his hands gripping at your wrists, preventing you from touching him. "you...!"

unable to overpower him and reach for your weapon, you visibly panicked when sylus wraps an arm around your front, pressing you against the cage while preventing your escape. you struggle against him momentarily, yet visibly relax when his hands touch at the spot between your legs.

he traps you between his body and the cage, biceps coming around you keep your head locked within it. a whisper of your name (filled with a dark longing) was heard against your ear, and you found yourself powerless to sylus when he reaches down to slide off your leather skirt, managing to free himself from the confines of his own pants as the tip of his cock was felt brushing against your slick walls.

in one, powerful thrust, you were left gasping for him, hands gripping at the bars as sylus moves his cock in and out of you, basking in the way your walls gripped him tightly in response. "ngh, you missed me, didn't you? me and m'cock. you needed this, right?"

your soft mewls echo throughout the cage, making you see stars each time he sheathes his cock back inside of you. a thin trail of saliva manages to escape from your lips, making sylus chuckle when he grabs a hold of your chin, keeping you still before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he doesn’t stop his rapid thrusts when he hotly whispers within your ear, "now you'll never fly away, my little bird."

and when you could feel his tongue tracing at the shell of your ear, you knew that you were a goner.

[ danger often hides behind the softest eyes and the sharpest fangs. ]

as you step into hermit the ex-enforcer's cell, your eyes were met with an icy gaze filled with contempt. xavier kept pulling at his restraints, trying to get to you. "you tricked me, you trapped me here knowing what would happen...!"

you simply let out a hum in response, not denying his words of accusation as you stepped closer to him. you take a moment to assess his body, nearly jumping back when he violently pulls at his restraints. "why... don't you want to become like me?"

stepping closer to him, you grip at his hair, revealing his neck to you while pressing the tip of your nose against his skin, "relax, i'll let you go once you're back to normal."

xavier was restless when you pull away from him, using the palm of your hands to explore his body, your touch descending upon his muscular abdomen. you felt him inhale sharply, letting out a shuddering breath while telling you, "your hand is warm."

you continue to assess his form, hearing xavier's whispered phrases "do you hate me? do you think i'm a monster?" why did his words sound like he was trying to seduce you? his once icy gaze now darkened considerably with hunger, making your own heart pound rapidly in response. ignoring the familiar ache between your legs, you slowly got down on your knees-

only to see the prominent tent against the front of his pants.

you were left speechless at the sight, licking your lips while hearing xavier let out a series of amused chuckles, "this is your doing, so... what'll you do now?"

with a sigh, you brush back your hair before gripping at the front of his pants, pulling it down in one quick motion. his erection was settled directly in front of your face, lifting your hand to give his cock a harsh stroke.

"ngh!" xavier's groans echo throughout the cell each time you worked on pumping his cock with your hand, "this won't do... looks like i'll need to take care of this before continuing your assessment."

collecting the beads of precum that escapes from his tip, you use it as lubrication, feeling your walls clench with need at the sight. "ah, fuck, my hands are just making you harder. maybe i need to do more drastic measures...?"

relinquishing your hold on his cock, you take a step back and take off your uniform, stepping out of your panties while unclasping your bra. the sight of your nakedness makes xavier's cock grow even harder for you, with it twitching considerably, desperate to be buried inside of you.

stepping closer to xavier, you brace yourself against the chain-linked fence, guiding his cock toward your entrance with your free hand before sliding down on him. you both toss your head back at the sensation of his cock completely sheathed inside of you. you had began setting a slow and steady pace when xavier breaks free of his restraints.

his large hand now grips at your backside, pinning you against the fence as you were subjected to his cock continuously pounding itself in and out of your heat. "do you like that...?" his eyes were clouded with lust just then, rapidly pumping his cock as your breasts bounced in tune to his every movement, "don't be scared..." he tells you while hiding his face within the base of your throat, "it'll be over soon enough... then, you'll never leave me."

each time xavier slides his cock back into you, you found yourself losing all thoughts of coherency, willingly becoming dumb on his cock.

[ a praedator rose from the ashes. the entire city is but a playground at his disposal. ]

you stand outside of tamino's cell, the leader of flowin' fire's eyes glaring into you, as if challenging you to take a step forward and come into his cell-

if you dared to.

rafayel remained calm even as he was captured, not putting much of a fight as he kept repeating your name over and over again, denying anyone else the 'privilege' of assessing him.

so, given little choice, you marched directly towards his cell. upon seeing the determined expression on your face, rafayel gives you a smile.

"why so hesitant, princess? come on inside... have a chat with me."

just find the activator and get out of here. you repeat that single phrase like a mantra, using the master key to enter his cell. shutting the door from behind you, you look down at rafayel, convincing yourself that he was kept in restraints and would have no power over you-

as if sensing your turmoil, rafayel's smirk widens as he began taunting you, "what am i to you? a madman? a monster? or just a pitiful prisoner?"

"that's quite enough," you harshly hiss at him, getting down on your knees while placing a hand on his chin. he lets out a grunt upon feeling the pad of your thumb tracing at his bottom lip before opening it slightly. a flash of annoyance was seen in rafayel's gaze, "you're checking my teeth? there's a muzzle here."

i need to move closer if i want to find that activator. removing yourself from his lips, you stand back to your full height, coming around him as your eyes were focused on the spot hidden behind his long hair. just as you were about to part the strands, rafayel manages to stop you, pulling you directly into his lap. "what's this supposed to be? another plan of yours?"

your eyes go wide with panic, looking down to see that he had already torn apart his restraints and was now holding you against him. letting out a grunt of your name, rafayel frames at your face with his two hands, keeping you still before surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that takes your very breath away.

you writhe against his embrace, hands pounding against the front of his chest-

but to no avail.

feeling his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip makes you tremble in response, letting out an involuntary moan as you felt his smirk against your lips. "exposing your weakness to a monster... you lost, princess."

a devilish smile paints his expression when he pulls down your skirt and panties in one, swift motion, placing your naked sex against his thigh while whispering sweet nothings within your ear, "you're not allowed to leave me anymore, princess." he whispers hotly to you, dragging your wet cunt across his muscled thigh as you were given little choice but to cling to him.

losing all of your dignity, you eagerly grind your hips against his thighs, riding him while basking in his praise with your needy mewls and moans echoing throughout the cell.

[ nobody gets to walk out of his prison. not when they are alive, at least. ]

you take quick strides into the warden's cell, meeting galen's calm expression as you shut the cell door from behind you.

an unhinged smile spreads across zayne's features, clearly happy at seeing you even in this situation. "ah, so you've decided to come and see me again."

you step forward, pulling out a syringe filled with a glowing, almost deep amber liquid flowing inside of it. recognition flashes within his gaze at the sight of the syringe, "a frenzy enhancer? you're going to use it on me?"

"yes, the warden should be well-aware of how it affects the praedators." you step closer to zayne, watching as he pulls on his restraints while remaining tied to the chair. his eyes blearily met your gaze, allowing you to push his head back while revealing his neck to you. pressing the tip of the syringe against it, you push the thin needle within his skin, earning a low hiss from him as you injected the frenzy enhancer.

once the liquid was gone, you take a step back, tossing aside the syringe while watching him, fascination shining within your eyes. zayne struggles against his restraints, letting out a series of grunts while meeting your gaze, "stop holding yourself back... you need to do this and confront your true self."

he tries once more to break away from his restraints, "i don't know what i'll do to you. what will you do next... since you chose to remain in this cage with me...?"

you were ready to speak when the sound of something ripping apart causes your eyes to widen. now freed from his restraints, you had to run and seek some form of backup-

yet the sensation of powerful arms being wrapped around your waist stops you from moving forward.

"where do you think you're going?" he carries you back with him, settling back against the chair while pulling down his pants, allowing them to pool against his feet before quickly shoving down your skirt and panties.

not even waiting for your response, zayne harshly grips at your hips before forcing you down on his cock, the sensation of it all making you cry out to him. your back was arched against him, allowing the obsessed warden to move your hips up and down his erection. you felt your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head, the squelching sounds of zayne fucking you echoing throughout the cell.

he rests his head against your shoulder, allowing you to bounce yourself on his cock, "you're not allowed to leave as you please anymore... from this point forward, you're mine."

and with how much zayne was filling you up with his cock, reaching places deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed, you fell into his sweet trap, allowing his corruption to spread through you with little resistance.

a.n. - oh mannn do i feel tingly and sinful while writing this 🫠 please excuse this unedited mess, i wrote this in a haze.

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[writingwithfolklore]

I Cut Out Social Media for 30 Days and It Changed My Life

Okay hefty title, but I mean every word of it.

Over January I followed a book called Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. I'm sure you've already been lectured to death about how bad technology and social media is for you, so I won't repeat the statistics here. What I will say is that Newport suggests that there are also positives to technology and that abandoning it altogether is not realistic. Instead, he proposes that we define our values, and then use technology to attain them--rather than allowing technology to define what values we should hold.

To do this, Newport suggests a complete "detox" of non-essential technologies for 30 days. That means abstaining from social media, netflix and other streaming services, videogames, etc. But of course still being able to phone loved ones, email for work, and use google maps if you're going somewhere new, etc. In doing this detox, he proposes that we will be able to better understand what values we hold as people, not just as consumers of technology.

He was right.

At first I found it really hard. Right away I noticed that any activity other than doomscrolling and watching endless hours of Youtube took a lot more brain power. I started doing puzzles, reading, writing (a lot!), cooking and baking, and taking many walks with my dog. By the end of the day I'd be fuzzy and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch my favourite shows. I didn't, but I wanted to.

But then I started to notice my "brain stamina" (I'm sure there's a better term for it but oh well) started to improve. Instead of writing for two hours before getting fuzzy, I could write for four. And then six. And then eight. Slowly, I found myself being able to do more in a day, to focus for longer on one task, and I didn't feel as drained by the end of it. I had a clearer mind, I could remember things a lot better, I was no longer struggling to find really easy words--they just came to me.

This all also resulted in me spending so much more time with my friends and family. I realized that I really valued this time--and that it wasn't something I could replace by hitting 'like' on an instagram post from them. I rediscovered community, passion, and in many ways, humanity.

It was like I was looking at the world in a new way. I started to notice more, be curious about more. I kind of remember being this way as a kid, and I couldn't believe how I had ever let that go. Now, the idea of sitting on my couch and watching hours and hours of Youtube in every moment of my free time feels inconceivable.

However, my 30 days are up, and so Newport suggests setting some rules to reintroduce what technology I believe supports my values. I've decided not to return to Instagram, but that I do value keeping up to date with the gaming community and pop culture, which I do on Youtube. Now, Youtube is something that I watch for a couple hours on weekends, instead of eating up every bit of free time I have. I also value interacting with other writers and the writing community, so I've created a couple hours in my schedule to check Tumblr and my Discord and keep up to date with you guys here.

But now most of my free time is spent reading or writing, or being with my family and friends, and I value that most of all. To demonstrate how much has changed, in the months before my detox, I wrote maybe 2500 words. Since my detox, I've written 40 000. Last year, I read about four books. In just one month during my detox, I read 10.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in trying for yourself, feel free to reach out to me! I'd love to talk more about my experience and things that worked or didn't work for me. I'd also really recommend the book, it was incredibly helpful in determining what rules were healthy to set and how to get out of technology and then back in with success.

Back to usual content soon :-)

[pinkyjulien]

I'm glad Nexus took action as soon as they could! 🙏 (They do not moderate/work on the website during the weekend)

After the deletion of the "Alternate T-Bug" mod, EKT decided to remove all of his catalogue (with the exception of the Unique Eyes update) and made the following statement:

"Due to the apparent lack of brain activity within the Nexus moderating team and their clear inability for logical thinking in any capacity, I have chosen to remove all my mods except the unique eyes mod because people rely on it. I don't want to submit and share my art on a website that not only solicits but encoruages and works alongisde bullies and ideologues, clearly the moderation team is not fit for the task and I don't want to share the same space as them. The moderation team either does not do their job properly or are deeply biased, either way there is an issue too severe for me to be okay with it."

He since made another comment:

"I am going to bring my mods back up, the reason for this is because the vile people that brigaded, harassed and mass reported me actually are dumb enough to think that it resulted in all my mods getting taken down, there is no world where i am letting those low lives have that sense of satisfaction. Bunch of insane bigoted ideologues projecting their disgusting twisted world views onto everything they see."

Reminder that EKT made, published and defended a white T-bug mod, which goes against Nexus' File Submission guidelines, shielding himself behind his "artistic vision" - you can check the original' post and the multiple reblogs/replies for more context

EKT's mods were used by a lot of people, and his choice of words in his public statement is obviously on purpose; many people are being manipulated into thinking he's the victim of an harassement campaign

Don't hesitate to let people know what he did, with proof

In the meantime, over the public -KS- Modding Community Server

EKT is calling for an actual harassment campaing against SweetMage, trying to get them to be banned from Nexus and Tumblr

Thanks to the people who provided the screenshots They gave me permission to share them here

The server owner has been made aware of the situation

As a final note I'll only repeat myself: - Warn your friends, your chooms and the general public, make them aware of the situation, don't let them get manipulated into defending a racist/colorist mod - Take note of who's actively participating in this ordeal, took preview pictures, endorsed the initial mod, left comments and who are now supporting EKT

Hey, can y'all report this mod that whitewashes T-Bug?

This mod not only lightens her skin but makes her nose and lips smaller as well as other changes to her face. On top of this the modder has been deleting every comment calling this out and has now taken to calling commenters "internalized racists" for having a problem with it.

Not in the fandom and don't know who T-bug is? This is what she looks like in the game (top) vs in the mod (bottom):

I do not care to hear any "people can do what they want in their own game!" nonsense. Dont know why you'd wanna erase dark skinned black women in your own game but you do you, but this was posted publicly on the internet so Imma say something about it. Fandoms in general are often unwelcoming to black folks and creating, supporting, and condoning whitewashing only adds to that fact!

[i-am-countess-olivia]

This isn't some novel thought, but for me Fitzier begins in ep2, when Silna's father is brought onto Erebus

(a long-ish, GIF-heavy scene breakdown follows)

I won't cover the violations of Silna's beliefs, feelings and bodily autonomy which happen in these moments - they are of course terrible and very important. Instead, I want to focus on how the scene kicks off a new dynamic between Francis and James, how it lays a foundation for their subsequent closeness and how it changes our view of who James might be as a person.

Let’s begin.

Sir John and James arrive in the sick bay to join Stanley and Goodsir. Stanley says: "nope, not touching this one". Goodsir asks for leave to save the shaman's life. Franklin, already looking deeply disturbed by what's happening, hesitantly agrees.

Francis arrives. The operating table divides him from Franklin, Stanley and James — he is literally not on their side. All three men glare up at him as one: How is this maudlin MF going to make this horrible situation worse for us?

But while the three of them just stand there, Francis puts himself in charge. With a bit of help from McDonald, he takes hold of a distraught Silna and tries to explain what is happening, who they are, that they're not trying to do harm. It is in this moment that James becomes the only one on the opposite side of the table to step forward (to help Francis control the situation or at least to do something). He looks compelled to action but cannot act.

Okay... so here we see that maybe this guy isn't just Franklin's poodle (we saw a bit of that earlier in the episode - more on that later).

Meanwhile Franklin, as soon as Francis takes control, BUGGERS OFF. Of course this can be justified by him already having given his orders and no longer needing to be involved, but we know that a) he sneaks off when the situation is clearly fraught and Francis is clearly better suited to handle it, knowing Inuktitut among other things and b) he actually ends up hiding out in his cabin, freaking out while listening to the howls of the dying man. This is too strange, too awful for him. Not to mention: oh god, I'm stuck in the ice, I've just lost a lieutenant, I keep losing men, what are they going to think of me?

While Sir John is off having a lil meltdown.... James' eyes are firmly on Francis.

We don't even see him acknowledge his captain's departure.

But why is James there? The obvious answer is: to report back to Sir John, to make sure things don't get weird and that Francis doesn't do anything stupid on THEIR ship. After all, let's remember the last scene before this one where James is focused on Francis:

Here he was describing Francis as if he's got him pegged: he's a disappointed man, Sir John, he was no one's first choice etc etc.

I know what he is. Do you now, James?

(interesting framing the above scene, btw - James standing, active, Sir John focused on his creature comfort, the pipe, and questioning himself. James speaking in firm tones to his commander: "I will not allow..." — James is literally being reframed as a leader.)

Anyway, back to where we were.

While Goodsir sets about trying to remove the shot, we get a little glimpse of James: he looks frozen, uneasy, swaying in to stare at the wound (Oh Tobias, the actor that you are). Can we say flashbacks to the Chinese sniper? This must be seriously triggering for him. Something is shifting.

(Another aside: James is standing next to Stanley, the man who dug out the shot when he was hit by the sniper. That same man is now refusing to help. Hm.)

Next, Goodsir says: I can't save this man. Here something important happens: James and Francis share a look.

This is Francis, for the first time, acknowledging not just James still being in the bay at all — but that the two of them are in this moment together! Francis' eyes saying to James: I'm about to tell this woman her father is going to die and James acknowledging in return how awful that is. He presses his mouth, drops his eyes.

The little flash of connection doesn't last. When Silna starts to plead with her dying father, James once again reaches out across the table to Francis: what is she saying? But it's maybe too pushy, too "I need to be told what's going on" so Francis ignores him and it's McDonald who answers.

Next, Silna launches herself at her dying father. Here, once again, James tries to take an active role, to "help" by following Francis' cues on what to do.

James has been watching, learning, asking questions and now looks desperate to be part of the solution to this awful situation: to be in this with Francis. Look how similar their gestures are, how James looks to Francis for direction.

---

STOP - DOOM HAMMER TIME

The VERY first scene in which Francis and James become partners, take action together to keep something from happening, they effectively set in motion one of the biggest causes of their doom: Silna's father doesn't die as he should, Tuunbaq is not bound to anyone. Oh man. That's a whole other essay.

---

(Back to the scene....)

While they're wrestling with Silna, James, clearly emotional and upset by what is taking place, reaches out again, perhaps this time more sincerely: Look at me, Francis, I'm trying to help, at least tell me what's happening? This time Francis acknowledges him — actually SPEAKS to him for the first time.

In response, James looks particularly vulnerable and distraught.

Silna's father dies. We see how different James' reaction is to Francis'. Poor James. Maybe he wants a little bit more from Francis in that moment, one more shared look. Francis doesn't give it to him.

Aaaaaand here we are, it's almost over. Franklin swans in, the really bad, bloody stuff having already been dealt with. He re-asserts his command by giving an order to James to escort Silna off the ship. James… doesn't exactly spring into action. In fact, he doesn't even acknowledge the order verbally, unlike Stanley. What's going on in his head? What does he think about Francis in that moment?

Anyway, let's wrap up.

So much of this scene is about the shift in James’ perception of Francis. He suddenly sees a man who is hands-on, who can take charge, who doesn't walk away from a terrible and unusual situation, even when it's clear there's no good outcome. And of course he knows Sir John skipped off at first opportunity.

Francis, meanwhile, only briefly appears to acknowledge James —but only as far as we can see. Francis of course knows that James was there, that he stayed behind, that he tried to help, that he tried to understand.

This knowledge and this changed dynamic become apparent immediately, in the very next scene.

LOOK HOW THEY ARE FRAMED!!!

Sir John is already receding into the background. James and Francis sit — still opposite sides of a table but in essentially the same pose. They are partners, mirrors, leaning into each other. The few glances here, small as they are, are NOT at Sir John, but between James and Francis.

Anyway, here you go, that's me done. I fucking love this show.

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[utilitycaster]

Hi! I just wanted to add to what you said about Laudna that her motivation from the beginning of the campaign did not change at all, in that she was ok and totally moved on from her trauma, and was just helping Imogen find out about her powers. I don't recall that Delilah was much of a problem outside of talking in her head sometimes, so getting Delilah out wasn't a character motivation.

There were times were it looked like her character was going somewhere when Marisha talked about Laudna being mentally stunted and Delilah's influence being akin to an addiction, and thought maybe they can address some of that in the campaign, but we had a lot of "woe is me Delilah is making me do things" which is BAD if you address the addiction allegory (still taking into account that Marisha may have misspoken during 4sD about it)

They didn't even deal with Delilah properly, she is still there and can talk with Laudna, and I don't think by the end of the campaign Laudna is in any way more capable of ignoring her as she did the first time they defeated Delilah and she was just a faint wisp, she wasn't in any way actively influencing Laudna back then until Laudna tried to bargain with her for power (i may be paraphrasing or misremembering though it's been a bit)

Saying that Laudna's character feels very fic-y is surprisingly accurate, she feels like someone who would have been sold to One Direction

Sorry for the long ask

OK first off YELLING at the being sold to One Direction but yeah, that's the thing, she feels like this passive self insert who people give things to and like without her like, doing anything other than putting her messy brown hair in a bun on the top of her head.

I think with a lot of my frustrations with various characters, there is frustration on both sides, with Matt and the cast, and Matt bears a LOT of responsibility to be clear because I think in his focus on the core plot above all it shut down player attempts to the point that even stronger players with stronger concepts kind of gave up in the end. But for Laudna, here is the throughline.

Early on she floated the idea of getting rid of Delilah when Imogen was trying to get into the Starpoint Conservatory. This was good! It was introduced as a potential longterm goal of Laudna's! It's just...that never happened. The research was always very moon focused, and when it became clear this wasn't really an academically-inclined group the research took the form of Grim Verity lore dumps, which naturally didn't allow for side research. The gnarlrock fight famously went nowhere because she and Imogen apologized right away, but then, notably, Laudna didn't do anything to get back at Delilah nor did Delilah keep doing anything. Imogen's attempts to work with Delilah failed (this feels like part of the 'No Consequences' rule; Imogen binding herself to Delilah as well or having Delilah take on more of Laudna, something Laura as Imogen actually made steps to pursue, could have been something! I mean I'm team Jiana would have been more interesting, but this could have worked!) and so then the whole probably was kind of put on ice by the Vox Machina-helmed resurrection, and Delilah faded to a nonentity that Laudna didn't have to care about. So she didn't! Until she came back, and then she sort of cared for a bit but Delilah didn't make her do anything and then she came back to Jrusar and instead of leaning into her anger she kissed Imogen and forgot all about it until they went to Whitestone 12 episodes later (still no real consequences of Delilah coming back), she reiterated a connection to Delilah back there and had some scenes with her due to the shard but again, she wasn't really inconvenienced or changed, and then there was one last flare up with the sword and then Essek fixed everything.

Like, this would have been very easy to make compelling by having Delilah actually be a threat. Part of why I don't feel much about Laudna living out her life is that like, Delilah is just sealed away again (and fwiw we gotta at some point talk about how there was a whole setpiece about how Leaving Things Sealed Just Perpetuates A Cycle and then there's at least two sealed evils and one fully unsealed if mortal evil guy hanging out, like, thematic coherence whomst?) and throughout the story Delilah mostly just serves as an intrusive thought who broke something once and hit a couple of dudes. Chetney getting caught by the red moon and attacking people felt more real and he took more responsibility for it. If Delilah had constantly been trying to take over? that would have been interesting. If she hadn't but Laudna was furious that the woman who killed her was using her body and at all times was fighting against it? that would have been interesting. But it was just this vague blurry meh. Delilah is her warlock patron and the reason she's alive, but she can be diminished to basically nothing without any drawbacks, and Laudna sometimes hates her and sometimes wishes to wield her, but that all fizzles out every time. Again: if you wished one of these things were true and mourn the character Laudna could have been - either someone using Delilah's power at the cost of her own will, or someone fighting desperately to reclaim her own body and mind - then I'm right there with you. But as she was in the story? I wish One Direction had taken her away and we'd gotten someone better.

[auguryofjellyfish]

my chap 4 death predictions as of day 26. i made this a few days ago and surprisingly, it stayed entirely the same even after the motive drop.

this is more vibes-based than anything. would ojima make sense as a killer? ....maybe? i don't know how though. i guess that he could be the victim and yanagi the killer, i think it could be either-or. my reasoning for this order specifically:

three words- maximizing tragedy factor.

hirojima and/or hayashigeki ain't surviving. one, or both pairs are gonna get broken up now.

ojima dislikes yanagi and actively holds a grudge against him for hurting hiroaki.

ojima was in absolute awe when he heard hayashi killed her abuser, he wished he could be stronger and able to fight back too.

ojima has said many times that he would never kill, so being pushed to murder/or killing by accident would be tragic as hell. pure drama.

i thought about mai as a victim for a second, but i don't see how ojima, or anyone could make a drop on her, plus they have their solidarity thing going on.

yanagi's death would be devastating for mai. here he was, always worried about her safety, when she should have cared more about his all along?

ojima's been a victim his entire life. him dying as a victim would be fitting and devastating, but also...eh. eeeehhh. i guess if he killed by accident/unwittingly, it would also make him a victim of circumstance.

yanagi's self-sacrificial to a fault. if you live to be of service to others, could you say that you would never die for someone?

i'm not too certain about ojima killer, i don't know how it could be compelling AND well-written. woah, an abuse victim being a killer, so original. he can't kill while he's dissociating, that would be bad and stupid. he also wouldn't kill on purpose because he simply dislikes someone. what i feel is just... ojima killer would bring a different kind of devastation than ojima victim. he's a very kind and caring person, the idea of him going against who he is like that hurts so bad. there would be an undertone of betrayal there. like, et tu, ojima? especially if hiroaki carries the trial again, and as he's putting the pieces together, he realizes that he has doomed ojima to death. that, to me, would be an entirely different type of agony than the one of ojima getting murdered. not to say that hiroaki wouldn't also be completely incapacitated by ojima dying as a first thing.

also, i thought about a scene like, hiroaki thinks the 'but i wouldn't do it!' argument is always invalid and never lets it slide. so, it would be quite funny if someone accused ojima in the trial and hiroaki was like '??? uhhhh, are you stupid? ojima wouldn't do it, he can hardly tell his left from his right' and ojima's like haaahhh yeah. anyway, i'm putting a pin in it, i dunno. i'm still very fond of the idea that someone will try to kill hiroaki and they will get killed by ojima instead. (thanks bronze-ocs!)

however, yanagi is DEAD dead. deadady-dead-dead-dead. i'm certain. my man's just gone. he's been going above and beyond this chapter, stretching himself thin to support many people and keeping up morale. and so far he's the only one who sort-of kind-of believes in monomoko. or at least, that she might be imprisoned and coerced, just like them. i can't see how he could make it to chapter 5. for him, either scenario works. him being a killer, after all the good he's done for so many people, after he's been trying his hardest to redeem himself and make up for his mistakes? especially killing someone as beloved as ojima? oof. unforgivable. ESPECIALLY because of his knight's vow. he was supposed to protect others, that is what he lives for, and ending someone's life...honestly, now that i think about it, yanagi killer might just give himself up immediately out of pure guilt.

yanagi victim works for the same reasons, he's been trying so hard, struggling, growing, devoting himself to hayashi, wada, and tamba, and he gets killed for it. pure tragedy. it's just fucked. either way, i strongly feel that he's not going to survive.

briefly about some others:

mai: i feel like she might be a goner too, but i'm not sure. i don't see either ojima or yanagi killing her, or vice versa. wellllllllll... anything can happen if it's an accident.....?

tamba: maybe? either she's dying here, or she's a survivor. i just don't feel very strongly about the possibility of her dying.

hiroaki: as substitute for ojima. but i don't think he will, he had JUST tried to kill himself. plus, there's a hell of a lot more evidence for ojima dying rn than him. and my biggest reason...ojima's death would devastate him more than his would devastate ojima. but still, i'm not ruling it out completely.

watari's worrying me, but i think there's a big likelihood she'll survive. i saw the hama killer theories, it would be unexpected and tragic ig, but i dunno. ken and wada are surviving. and that's about it, for now, i'll see how it changes in the upcoming weeks.

[hard-core-super-star]

OWN MY MIND [wandanat]

pairing: top!wanda maximoff x bottom!natasha romanoff

summary: wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with plot; wanda has a crush and she's about to make it EVERYONE'S problem; semi-public sex; slightly obsessive wanda go brr; so much teasing; the clothes stay on because i say so; thigh-grinding; fingering [nat receiving]; neck kisses; i got hooked on the idea so there's a lot of expostion; shitty dirty talk; so much bickering

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! i did not mean to disappear again but life had other plans 😅that being said, I'M OKAY! i survived a very stressful january and my writer's block seems to be easing somewhat. every year i say i'll be more active on here and it doesn't always work very well BUT i'm trying! anyway, i hope you guys are doing well, my askbox is always open for you all. that being said, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

There wasn't much Wanda was sure of anymore.

At some point, she'd been sure her and her family were going to be safe. She'd been proven wrong the day a Stark Industries missile crashed into her living room, sending all her childish hopes of safety with it.

After that, she'd been sure she'd never leave her brother's side, even agreeing to become an experiment for HYDRA to guarantee their safety. Their powers had helped and even when Ultron appeared, she was sure they'd figure things out together.

That dream had instantly been shot down, along with Pietro and the remnants of her home, after Ultron's attack.

She hated thinking about it. About everything she lost. About the dreams she'd held onto for most of her life that were meaningless now. That didn't serve any purpose other than reminding her she was alone.

Sure, she had the Avengers now but...they didn't understand her. Not the way her brother had.

Clint tried his hardest to be there for her before he left to be with his family, do doubt feeling guilty over something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for Pietro's sacrifice and they both knew blaming him wouldn't bring the speedster back anyway.

In a weird way, though, the archer was the only one who truly understood her grief so when he left...Wanda did what she had always done. She retreated into herself, ignoring the looks of the rest of the team and Vision's borderline annoying insistence that she talk to someone.

She didn't need to talk about anything. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing that could change the pain she carried every day.

Nothing...except Natasha Romanoff.

Their friendship hadn't come out of nowhere despite how hard the older woman liked to act otherwise. Even without her powers, she knew Clint had been the one to push Natasha in her direction. It was also obvious that the Widow had no idea what to do.

It was weirdly charming.

Despite how hard she tried to act like she cold and heartless, Natasha cared. She cared a lot more than she wanted to. Especially about Wanda.

So, when the older woman started appearing outside her door at ungodly hours of the night, seemingly unaware of the tear that stained the witch's cheeks, and inviting her to train with her...Wanda decided trusting her wouldn't do any harm.

That much was true. No real harm came from getting close to Natasha. If anything, she helped more than anyone at the Tower had even tried. She didn't care that Wanda didn't want to talk about what happened in Sokovia, that her inner demons showed their face every night and left her with nightmares too intense to ignore, that her powers grew stronger every day.

The Widow didn't seem to care about the details. She simply cared enough to be there. Sometimes she showed up earlier, before any nightmares could haunt her dreams, other times she showed up later and with a tea in hand that she quickly offered to her. There were no words exchanged but she knew.

And that meant more to Wanda than she could even put into words.

Those feelings, though, quickly grew out of her control. It happened almost on accident, practically without thinking. All she knew is that one day she felt...drawn to Natasha in a way she hadn't noticed before.

To the curve of her neck, the flex of her biceps, the tension in her jaw when she throws a punch. All the little details came together and left her feeling far too confused for her liking.

Confused and yet far too in control.

And to say Wanda was slowly becoming obsessed with control would be an understatement.

This flurry of thoughts is what leads her to do something too far out of her comfort zone. It's a shitty idea, she knows that, but when Vision off-handedly tells her of the party Tony will be throwing later that day, a plan slowly starts forming in her head.

A plan that involves a certain redhead and the confusing feelings that settle low in her stomach when they're alone together. Of course, she's not a stranger to desire, she knows what her feelings really are, but that doesn't mean she's exactly okay with them. With the suddenness and the intensity of her thoughts. Of the fantasies she longs to make a reality.

She's just as patient as she is stubborn, though, so she waits. Waits until the party is in full swing, until she's all dolled up in her favorite dress, paired with the leather jacket she never gave back to redhead, and then she strikes.

It must look weird. It certainly feels weird, stepping out into the crowd instead of avoiding everyone in her room. She has to step out of her comfort zone if she wants to go after what she wants, though, and she's determined to sink her teeth into Natasha before the end of the night.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait long for her opportunity.

As soon as she makes her way into the bustle of the party, she scans the room for the Widow. She finds her by the bar, chatting with Tony and Rhodey with a drink in hand.

Even though she wants to waste no time, she decides to linger. To let the anticipation build and see how long it'll take Natasha to bite. It's both torturous and enticing. A borderline perverted mix of longing that makes her heart threaten to burst out of her chest.

When Natasha's eyes finally meet her gaze, she sends a soft smile her way before pretending to be incredibly interested in her drink. It's a cheap strategy, she knows that, and yet it's one that works in her favor.

She only has to wait a few more minutes before the Widow untangles herself from Tony's drawn-out (although probably annoyingly entertaining) story and makes her way over to her.

"I didn't take you for a beer girl," she says, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," Wanda replies, her accent coming out strong. It's half on purpose and half on accident. It tends to slip out easier when she's around people she's genuinely comfortable with.

And Natasha is right at the top of that list. Even if she doesn't fully know it.

The Widow lets out a soft huffing sound in response. It's not quite a laugh, but there's an edge of fondness to it that neither of them can fully ignore. It's not every day she allows herself to be so unguarded.

"You're pretty and witchy, what else is there to know?"

The teasing remark only makes the younger woman's smile grow wider. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty?"

Wanda accompanies her question with an alluring tilt of her head, watching in amusement as Natasha takes a long sip of her drink to avoid answering. Even if she doesn't say the words, she's been caught red-handed and the witch couldn't be happier about it. Maybe her sudden desire for the woman isn't as one-sided as she'd allowed herself to believe.

"What are you even doing here?" Natasha asks, her tone far too casual for the intensity in her gaze. "You hate Tony and you hate parties."

The witch in question simply shrugs. "I was tired of sitting on my ass."

This time, the Widow actually laughs. "Clint should have never taught you that phrase."

"I don't know, I think it's quite fitting." She pauses for a moment, letting the air between crackle with a hard to define energy. One just as powerful and unpredictable as her own powers. "You seem to like looking at my ass."

The older woman's eyes widen before quickly darting around them. Sure, they're leaning up against the ridiculously placed bar but no one around them is paying attention. Tony and Rhodey left to find someone else to bore with their competitive stories and everyone else is scattered around the room, too engrossed in their conversations or their drinks to pay them any mind.

Not to mention, Wanda would never allow them to notice them. It's not mind control, not really, which means she feels no guilt at manipulating reality for a few moments.

"Since when are you so bold, Maximoff?"

"Since I decided to start going after what I want." 

This time, she pairs her words with a subtle step forward. It's not enough for their bodies to press together, but the intention is more than clear. It's a hint and a warning all wrapped up in one. One the Widow could easily ignore if she wanted to.

Wanda almost expects her to, considering how shifty her eyes are. How her attention seems to bounce around the room more and more. She's sure she's never seen the older woman so nervous before. It's as cute as it is enticing.

Finally, Natasha relents. She lets out a long sigh, her gaze shifting back to Wanda's. "You couldn't find a more appropriate time for that?"

The younger woman's smile turns into a smirk. Her free hand reaches out, manicured fingers running down the length of the redhead's arm. "We could always...sneak away, just the two of us..."

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle at that, her resistance clearly wavering, even as she tries to hold strong. "I don't think that's a smart idea, princess."

Wanda's pout is almost enough to make her melt. Almost.

"Why not? Aren't we on the same page about this?"

"It's not that simple."

The witch knows she should at least ask why. That she should pretend to care about the hesitations she knows are swimming around in Natasha's head. She doesn't need to read her mind to know what they are, why they matter. But it's hard to think straight when her advances aren't being rejected. When she's so close to getting what she wants.

So, instead of doing any of the rational things the Widow seems to be struggling with, she wordlessly grabs her hand and leads her away from prying eyes. They're a few ways away but still near the hustle and bustle of the party. Far away to fully hear each other but close enough to be caught if someone decided to wander around.

She's not fully thinking about that possibilty, though. All her focus is on Natasha and getting her to admit how much she wants her. How much she needs this too.

Without thinking about the consequences, she pushes the older woman up against the wall, their eyes meeting once more. The bright green flecks of Natasha's eyes seem to sparkle almost dangerously. Unfortunately, Wanda is too far gone to heed the warnings.

"Wanda, we can't." There's no real discomfort in the Widow's voice. No real attempt at getting the younger woman to stop.

So, she doesn't.

Wanda merely lets out a soft hum but makes no attempt to step away or fully listen to the older woman's complaints. Instead, she leans in more insistently, her lips trailing up Natasha's neck and leaving heated kisses on her skin.

The redhead wants to pull away. To tell Wanda to stop and let her walk away before they do something they'll regret. It's impossible to fight against her, though. Especially when her hands join the slow exploration.

"Why can't we?" The witch asks, her hands settling on Natasha's hips. "Why do you want to pretend like you don't want me?"

The sound the redhead makes is somewhere between a huff and a groan. "That's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to be smart about this." 

"There's nothing smart about this," she replies. "But I want you and you want me. What more do we need?"

Natasha opens her mouth to answer but Wanda doesn't give her a chance. In one swift move, she hooks the redhead's leg around her waist before pressing herself against her, drawing a soft gasp from her parted lips.

"You were saying?"

"You're so annoying, little witch."

The teasing nickname makes Wanda huff. Sure, it also makes her heart skip a beat but mostly, it annoys her. "Then tell me to stop, 'Tasha."

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

There it is. The permission she'd been waiting for. The clear admittance that their feelings were the same. That the sparks of desire she'd been feeling during training weren't one-sided delusions.

The witch wastes no time in connecting their lips once the realization hits her. Despite the intensity of their desires, the kiss is surprisingly soft. 

It's still more than a little desperate and yet there's an edge of affection that makes them melt. That leaves them craving more.

Thankfully, they both have more than enough ideas on how to fix that craving. The youngest of the two takes the leap first, though, not one bit embarrased of showing how desperate she is for more.

 Wanda grinds her hips up against Natasha's, slowly hiking her dress up to reveal the smooth skin underneath the fabric. There's something about both the setting and their outfits that drives them both mad. Something about being so exposed and yet so composed at the same time. Something about the matching black fabric of their dresses that turns them on more.

Her lips leave the Widow's just to trail down her jaw, her hands moving down her body with purpose. She grips her hips hard enough to move the older woman against her as she easily slots one of her thighs between her legs, giving her the perfect surface to grind against.

"You're so quiet, 'Tasha," the witch teases, unable to stop her flourishing dominant side for rearing its head.

Natasha knows she's allowing herself to slip. That she shouldn't be letting her guard down like this. Shouldn't be giving Wanda this much control over her.

It's not like she can help it, though. There's an intensity behind the younger woman's movements that she doesn't want to fight against. She wants to let it consume her until there's nothing left. No trace of her fears or hesitations.

She's not about to admit that any time soon, though. Even as her bucking hips give her away.

"That's because we're in public," she replies, keeping her voice as even as she can. "I can actually control myself unlike some people."

Wanda chuckles, keeping up her slow movements. "That's not what your hips are telling me."

"You're the one moving them," she shoots back.

The witch leans back slightly, a smirk forming on her face and pairing beautifully with her dialated pupils. "Is that so? If I move my hands away, you'll stop trying to hump my leg?"

Without waiting for an answer, she moves her hands away from the redhead's hips, allowing her fingers to trail up her torso toward her chest. She keeps her touch light and teasing, using it to further draw out the other woman's desires.

"That's not fair," Natasha huffs, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as the attention piles on. "You're the one that started this, you have to finish it."

"But we haven't even started yet, have we? You still have too many clothes on."

Wanda's fingers linger on the strap of Natasha's dress, sliding it down just enough to allow her lips to connect to the exposed skin. She focuses her attention on that spot just enough to make the older woman's hips buck against her.

"Fuck," she groans. "This is so unfair."

"I think it's more than fair. I can feel how much you want me. You're soaked, aren't you?"

Her question is met with another groan, this one in a sightly higher, more desperate, pitch. The witch is right, of course. She's already drenched and all she's done is lazily grind against her thigh.

It's practically impossible to stop her body from responding to her, though. Even without reading her mind, she knows her cues all too well after spending so much sparring with her.

Then again, she's pretty sure she wouldn't mind allowing her to invade her thoughts. Something about the lack of control makes her gush.

The low chuckle Natasha's thought is met with makes her eyes widen in response, her hands coming up to grip the younger woman’s shoulders. “Are you seriously reading my mind right now?”

Wanda knows the redhead is trying to sound intimidating but she’s far too breathless, far too wet against her thigh, for her to feel anything but satisfaction. “I couldn’t help it, your thoughts are so loud.”

The response is exactly what she had been expecting and all she can do is huff. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Her words only make Wanda bolder. With her words, her touch, her unbearable need to make the other woman fall apart just for her. “I thought you wanted me in your mind, ‘Tasha?”

The Widow knows she's been caught. That even if the witch didn't spend much time in her head, she knows how much she loves this. How much she wants this. This back and forth dance that will no doubt end with her on her knees.

And still, she's far too stubborn to admit it.

"Shut up." It's a weak remark but it's the only one she has. The only two words she can coherently form as her hips roll against the hard muscle pressing so insistently against her heat. "If you wanted to talk so much, you should have taken me on a date."

"If you don't like me talking so much, why are you so wet?"

It's infuriating. For every snarky response she can form, Wanda has two more waiting for her. It's like she knows exactly how to work her up, exactly how to meet her where she's at instead of trying to change her. It's more than infuriating, it's...it's sweet. In its own complicated, slightly fucked up way, the witch is being sweet.

Maybe it's that realization that makes her melt. Or maybe she's just too pent up to care anymore. She knows what the answer is, but she ignores it in favor of gripping Wanda's wrist and guiding it between her legs.

"I'd prefer it if you stopped talking and started doing, princess."

The witch's body tenses for a second, almost like her brain is struggling to catch up to reality, but then her fingers are working their way into Natasha's underwear and they both let out twin moans at the feeling.

Instead of taking a moment to tease her, Wanda dives right in, her patience fading with every buck of the older woman's hips. She sinks two fingers into Natasha's aching cunt, barely reminding herself to take it easy. To draw her pleasure out until she's writhing and groaning.

"Is this better for you, 'Tasha?" She asks, her lips making their way to Natasha's neck once more. She knows better than to leave too many marks behind, but she can't help her urges and she sinks her teeth into the side of the older woman's neck.

Natasha's walls clench around her fingers, nails digging into the witch's jacket as sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. She arches her back into her touch, her hips bucking a little too wildly for her taste. It's not like she can help her movements. Not when it feels so good.

"Wanda," she moans, her cheeks heating up as she realizes how desperate she sounds. "Fuck, don't stop."

If Wanda was slightly more sadistic she would push her to beg. As enticing as that sounds, she'd much prefer to show her how good she can make her feel instead.

"I won't," she says as her thumb finds its way onto Natasha's swollen clit. "Not until you fall apart for me. Until you admit how good I make you feel."

Her pride seems like a small price to pay for the pleasure that's turning her brain to mush. She opens her mouth to stroke Wanda's ego some more when the younger woman speeds up her movements, her fingers curling just enough to leave her gasping.

She pushes her hips into her fingers with every thrust, looking far more needy than she ever allows herself to be. "Right there, fuck, feels so good."

Natasha's never really been one for talking during sex, far too accustomed to selfish lovers who don't need her approval to feel like they're doing things right. It's different this time, though. Not just because she genuinly feels good, but because it's so clear that Wanda feels good. That this is what she wants. Touching her, pleasing her, driving her to the brink of madness. The witch has never looked more comfortable, more in her element, than she does right now.

"You gonna cum for me already?" The witch teases, pretending she's not doing everything in her power to make the older woman fall apart. "Here? Where anyone could see you? See how desperate you are for my fingers?"

The slight degradation shouldn't turn her on more, but it does. It makes her head fall back as an incoherent string of curses leave her lips. She knows she should at least feel a little emberrased but she can't. Can't think about anything except Wanda's fingers pistoning in and out of her wet pussy.

"Yes," she replies breathlessly. "I need- need to cum."

Wanda doubles her efforts as soon as she hears Natasha admit how close she is. Her thumb presses down on her twitching clit, rubbing fast circles against it until the Widow's walls are spasming around her fingers. 

"That's it, let go for me, 'Tasha. Make a mess on my fingers."

She doesn't have to be told twice.

The coil in Natasha's stomach snaps almost instantly, leaving her clinging to the witch as the pleasure crashes into her all at once.

Wanda watches her with wide eyes, greedily drinking in every twitch of her face, every desperate sound she can't hold back. She's sure she's never seen anything so breathtaking in her life.

All it does, though, is make her realize how much more she wants. How badly she needs Natasha. How her mind has filled up with fantasies she's not sure she can live without.

After losing everything she's ever had, she has to have the older woman.

That will come later, though, right now, she has more important things to focus on. Like making sure Natasha can walk long enough for them to retire to her room for the night.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics

[shazzbaa]

I'm sorry bit I just love the idea of Poor Edward thinking he's hot shit with his creepy gifts and deranged letters, then here comes Samuel who's even more fucked up than him, looking for some homoerotic stabbing while Edward cries. Baby faced loser just cannot handle an experienced freak.

LAKSJDFLASEKJES INCREDIBLE ASK TO RECEIVE, THANK YOU

but okay listen I think they're on different freaky axes. Stalking, sending someone your skin in the mail, getting possessive and jealous enough to kidnap their baby, those are all ROMANTIC freak activities. Samuel did not get the skin and go "pff, amateur, get on my level," LIKE HE WAS PRETTY DISTURBED TO GET EDWARDS SKIN IN THE MAIL. and then Sam is not really romantically inclined, he is just SEXUALLY freaky (calling him an "experienced freak" absolutely delights me but I don't know if this is true, he DOES like homoerotic stabbing but hes still a confused and repressed Victorian gentleman) while Edward simply does not seem to be sexually inclined at all?? TBH I pretty strongly headcanon him as asexual just based on how he handles love and marriage... So they're just on different tracks.

BUT HONESTLY?? IM NOT EVEN SURE THATS THE ISSUE. gets fully sidetracked with my Poor Edward Is A Kinky Ace headcanons

Thoughts & Evidence: - pain/injury: top - he "dislikes butchery" and seems to have a flair for causing psychological terror over simple murder, but causing people real tangible pain is the one thing he truly misses in his happiest ending. - restraint/confinement: switch - hes SO fixated on the coffin thing but ALSO in That One Very Normal Silverer Option hes fine playing along when YOU restrain HIM, it's only when you threaten to murder him that he actually freaks out - control; dom/sub: bottom - this never occurred to me during the ambition but makes a lot of sense in retrospect... he wants a master to pledge himself to and he's not sure if you're going to take that slot or not so he flips back and forth between pitching himself as a loyal henchman and a sadistic tormentor as he tries to capture your affection. But the only way to actually be with him is to fully take control, to essentially tell him "new plan: i do whatever I want, and you lock yourself in this building until I get back <3" and he's SO HAPPY TO DO IT.

All this to say that like, there's a couple of actual obstacles here, but neither of them are "erotic stabbing is too much for Edward." HE just doesn't wanna get murdered! BUT LIKE THATS PERFECTLY COMPATIBLE, SAMUEL IS ON BOARD FOR BEING THE GUY GETTING LOVINGLY MURDERED!!!!

I strongly suspect the actual obstacles here are: (a) Sam is too much of a bottom to be Poor Edward's master but also (b) Poor Edward is chemically impaired. In the whole first chunk of Light Fingers he's grabbing you constantly, easily overpowers you, and has NO PROBLEMS inflicting death as long as it's not permanent, but after the moon-milk he NEVER TOUCHES YOU AGAIN unless/until you actually consent to the wedding. THIS IS A FASCINATING DETAIL TO ME. He's clearly frustrated with you at points and trying to force your hand, and he doesn't seem to mind you getting hurt in the Nightmare-Orphanage when he's not the one doing it; can he just not bear to attack you himself????? ARE HE AND SAMUEL BOTH EQUALLY FRUSTRATED BY HIS INABILITY TO JUST FIGHT SAM

[adapertiones]

(Alt Text: Tragibox Lore Resource Masterpost. Archives, official links, fan docs, etc...) Guess who accidentally deleted it when they were going to edit something... yeah.

Thought this would be treasured by others as much as it is by me. Wherever my hyperfixation takes me to learn is for me to share!!!

If you have any additions, feel free to send them to me so I can add them! Also don't doubt about telling me if any of the links happen to be broken or if anything is incorrectly linked!

⚠️ Some things to keep in mind:

Tragibox Lore is currently being rewritten by the new owner of the project, Ruby Waters. Some things might get changed!

Breakthrough bonuses are fanmade.

Official Orin Ayo Lore Doc (Wayback Machine Link): Might be a bit laggy on phone. Try not to touch the text too much because it sends you to refresh the page (HAPPENED MANY TIMES...). There's a missing picture of Acheture Blunt's appearance before death but I managed to dig around a little and find it! It's currently on the lore archive below.

Tragibox Lore Archive Masterdoc: A document by me. Archives the official lore doc, in-game profiles (in progress), discord lore questions answered and some other things. My directory basically!!! Don't request editing access. Note: When opening in a mobile browser, check "desktop size/browser view" to be able to see the images better, otherwise they will look blurry.

Official Tragibox Discord Server: Activity varies a lot but very fun! There is interesting lore material around and you can ask lore questions. Might serve to track the progress of the project in the future! Also good to interact with other Tragibox fans. Special shout-out to whoever sent me the invite link through strawpage when I asked for it, you're a real one sob sob...

Tragibox Archive by Smugg/Pk Freeze: HTML version of Tragibox games saved plus a bit of lore information screenshoted~

Orin Ayo Wiki: Take some of the things here as a grain of salt, information tends to be changed by users and is usually not backed by sources. Lore related note; don't take the info in character profiles in Orin Ayo as the 100% truth, as most of that information can be manipulated by cultists~

Extra to Orin Ayo Wiki: Paige's Wiki Page

Breakthrough Wiki: Same thing as the Orin Ayo Wiki. This time, character info can be trusted a little more, most of it is written directly by Sol but there are some cases of unknown characters or Dave writting them (Dave's logs have his signature) Using this little space to add that I'm currently working on a document analysing some elements on Tragibox from a more scientific point of view~ For now it is just a very rough WIP bit will be added to this list once it is done.

[madwhimsical]

i am still slowly rewatching The Ghost and Molly Mcgee, and like, I know the basic shapes of the arcs, I remember Scratch growing to care for Molly across s1. but the thing about going through each episode with a fine-toothed comb is, i am seeing this shift start to happen in significant ways a lot sooner than I thought it did. Like, in-the-second-episode sooner.

On the one hand, I understand a show needing to establish its character dynamic status quo early on. Episode 1 did a great job of that initial setup, and also preparing the audience to expect a kind of slowburn of Scratch's emotional walls coming down (I'm looking at you, the oblique Scratch-as-Andrea apology at the end of First Day Frights). This kind of vibe continues in Howlin' Harriet, as Scratch invents "safe" reasons for hanging around Molly (e.g. using the camping trip to pad out his scare report). And the show could have run with only this formula for a while: Molly's doing a thing, find an excuse to be on the periphery, grouse about it, but ultimately acquiesce and become invested. In fact, this is pretty much the setup for ep 3's Getting the Band(Shell) Back Together.

But something interesting happens in ep 2's The (Un)Natural. Tammy rips on Molly's lack of pitching skill, and Scratch intervenes (i will refrain from talking here about how protective Scratch is of Molly's feelings already, although it is a catalyst). Crucially, and allow me to continue the softball metaphor here, Scratch approaches clowning on Tammy/the Skylarks in a way that positions Molly and himself as being on the same team.

He's still denying friendship motivating his actions, but Scratch is unequivocally excited about cheating at playing softball with Molly. He outright says, "I cannot wait until the next game when we do it all over again!" And I find this use of "we" significant, because I think this is the first instance he's used first person plural to designate Molly as being part of his personal sphere/plans. Any other time he's used "we" in reference to Molly, it's been more in service of convincing her to exit an activity/situation he'd rather not bother with (hell, he does this earlier in this same ep, to try to persuade Molly to leave the Lemmings well enough alone so he can take a nap). But the guy is having fun alongside Molly here, rather than despite her or at her expense. He's enjoying having a reason to pal around with her, to say nothing of having a kind of blanket approval to be a little bit of a stinker to the other teams via ghost powers. I talked earlier about "safe" reasons to enjoy Molly's company, and i think being aligned against a common adversary accomplishes that for Scratch in that he could plausibly claim he was simply enjoying haunting them. This allows him a freedom to be more openly enthusiastic about the ongoing events without having to show vulnerability regarding his growing fondness for Molly. And across the subsequent games, he looks like he's super enjoying himself, like

He's having a blast, he's being silly! He's doing little antics to get Molly's attention so she can share in his good time! Like, the degree to which Scratch reaches out to Molly this episode is kind of mindboggling for how early in the series we are. I did not expect this level of sincere engagement from Scratch until a while later. And when Tammy jabs at Molly yet again, he invites Molly to give input on how to get back at her. There's another usage of first person plural here, too: "Let's just take this jerk down". He's specifically positioning them together, against Tammy, on Molly's behalf.

I think it's also worth mentioning that by this point, Scratch is legitimately invested in the Lemmings' success, like. He does not want to see them lose this game. And when Libby brings home the win, it's a win they share alongside each other.

Tellingly, as the Lemmings are celebrating their championship victory, Molly and Scratch are situated in the stands, apart from the group. A part of their own team. Molly even echoes this sentiment back to Scratch, vis-a-vis her aim to inspire confidence in the Lemmings: "We did it."

This level of support from Scratch is not consistent yet (he pretty immediately reverts to professing disengagement from Molly and her family in the very next episode), but I was so surprised to see it here this plainly. I guess that's the power of sports!

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Glad we both enjoy hating omg.

AND YES! Istg the second that video dropped I watched it eagerly, I am such a Batman fan, ugh, if you're ever interested in him specifically, I'd heavily recommend Batman Animated Series, yearnful sigh. I miss when he's written well. And thank you! I appreciate this, I'm bound for a rewatch of this video, hehehe.

NO FR? Istg one of my BIGGEST pet peeves for lazy ass shipping is when OTHER characters have to comment on the relationship, as if it is in any way, shape, or form been properly conveyed as obvious to the audience. IT'S SO LAZY RAHHHHHH. Like you might as while have everyone calling them a couple and them blushing and saying NUH UH, and then never proceed to actually write them interested in each other, outside of predictable, boring commentary, WHICH IS OUT OF LEFT FIELD.

Rex and Eve are legit sm more interesting since they're supposed to be friends for years, then got together, and went through the same shit together. I'd legit rather than them than this. Why did Rex cheat? Why not explore any of these dynamics? Did Kate feel sidelined so she believed Eve and Rex were on a break? How shaky was their relationship?

Get this man in ethics, philosophy, therapy, and pysche classes istg. He truly needs college istg, bro needs education and awarenes. I do not believe he thought he actually thought of Eve, out of anything but guilt, if at ALL. This show feels like it's ACTIVELY trying to lie to me and it's not even doing it WELL? HELLO?

The villain opening was so dumb to me istg. Cecil's stuff I get why, but when it went back to why and justified why Cecil did what he did I wanted to roll my eyes. Like. I can assume why. I don't really need to see why. they're useful, and there's an unspoken GoG absence, yes? I get why Mark is opposed, sure, whatever. Can we use this time for anything else? If this show had more episodes and took things s l o w e r for once, it'd be more fitting to me. Otherwise? I don't care. Speaking of Oliver, they way he's better at fighting than Mark, like this is embarrassing. Mark lock in. Mark do better. Mark why is a child showing you up. WHY ARE EXPLICITLY SHOWN MARK IMPROVING AND THEN HE ACTS JUST AS SUCCESSFUL AS S1? HELLO?

I thought the fight against the underground monsters would be a great opportunity for him to be particularly lethal, like Omni-Man and actually show off some proper skills, and introduce Darkwing + Robots helping heros escape while he's distracted. Still can have Mark freak out, but people get reminded whose son he is. Casually shake off blood. Which we get later on (I wish it was cooler so bad, it's still my fav but with a hint of begrudging admittance), but I say why can't we have more feral Mark scenes? Why stop at one battle parallel with Nolan? Have him particularly lethal with monsters since he'll freak out over people, thinking of Angstrom! Let him mimic Nolan's efficiency and like casually dive through a monster's brain. Him freaking out when someone he cares about gets hurt is so dull to me, also? Did the venom work from the centipede????

GoG's breakup was truly so funny because none of these mfs have been meaningfully explored enough to make me shaken up that they're breaking up, or what that even means because their hero ecosystem isn't explored either! What's the stakes here? I don't get to see more dynamics I never got to see? I'm truly heart broken. Oh no. Also Immortal stay annoying me because bro truly invited himself, told everybody to stfu and get out to a team he decided he'd join back up again, and you're so correct he'd make a mf grovel to get back? Immortal don't be insufferable challenge.

Nolan being endeared to her because she's not afraid makes too much sense, omg. He's so baffled he's enraptured, and Debbie truly thinks he is not special for being capable of killing him, people could die randomly, asshole, get in line. I'd love to see how they got together if the show had time, and the potential dynamics from a "take no shit" Debbie and still learning about humanity, and flirting, Nolan.

REAL ASF THO. Like Invincible could be SO far if it was good. Shows where I'm already invested after it outright refuses to live up to it's potential are like catnip to me, I cannot shut up about it. I'm infuriated and enraptured and endeared. Begging everyone to watch this show, no I don't think it's incredible, watch it all anyway.

Please write the mentor Cecil fic of my dreams, if I can get some oneshots done I'd love to write it myself if I can think of some scenes. There's something so interesting about Cecil becoming an incidental (perhaps Mark opens up and Cecil Realizes: Oh, I can Use This) and then intentional mentor figure, (or again Mark insisting he needs to earn Immortal's approval to prove he's not his Dad fr). Like? Thefun extra wound of betrayal if Cecil still uses the whole scream thing! Maybe Robot/Rudy does a scan of him and finds it, and Mark has to conceptualize what it's for, or it's outright used to against him. I believe in Mark being put through the emotional ringer. Dad issues AND Dad-like mentor issues. Stack 'em.

GDA not have any contingencies or hidden plans is so baffling, like aren't you a paranoid department dealing with something as unstable and dangerous as supes? LIKE NO MEDICAL CHECK UP IS INSANE. Purposeful ignorance is so funny omg, they're actively make it difficult for them to pursue education lmao. But the way I would think they'd make Mark + Oliver binge every morality debate, philosophy, even skeezy therapy where the therapist is just snitching to what their mental states actually are. Enforcing Mark to understand how to fight mentally, and not following the same colonizer BS mindset. GIVE ME PARANOID GDA THINGS. Like if Mark went to college, does GDA have agent pretend to be a student to follow him?

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[starflungwaddledee]

Starstruck! Wher are you now? How is the tourney journey going thus far?

we all lost track of time a little there. -several months worth of propaganda making time. thanks for checking in! it looks like her tourney journey will continue after a little nap! << prev || [masterpost] || next >>

[nexus-nebulae]

me as a kid: i have all these problems

every adult around me: you're not old enough to know what's wrong with you, you're fine

me as an adult: i still have all these problems

my doctors after i finally got the opportunity to choose them myself: oh my fucking god why have you never gotten help for all these problems. you should have seen me 10 years ago

[thedreadvampy]

unfortunately the world is too fucking messed up so I am currently unable to give a shit about how messed up everything is because it's all too big and if I get upset about any of it my entire ability to be a person will come crashing in

normal service will resume as soon as possible

[plounce]

moenbryda is such a burst of energy to the scions as characters - once she enters the rising stones, you get a sense of these people as actual FRIENDS who hang out and do stuff and have relationships with each other and have history in a way you haven't prior to her entry into the narrative. she's such a dynamic character! it rocks!

F'lhaminn: Ever since Moenbryda arrived, the Rising Stones has been buzzing with excited energy. I must admit, her enthusiasm is rather contagious.

moenbryda comes in, everyone lights up (lyse especially), everyone loves her because they're seeing an old friend - except for the WoL and minfilia, who are meeting her for the first time. minfilia has spoken to her via linkpearl, but still wonders "what manner of woman is she?"

so i think one can get a sense of "oh. i'm the new one here. i don't actually have any history beyond these whirlwind last few months. these people are WAY better friends with moenbryda than they are with me." not that anyone's doing this on purpose - it's simply the social reality. and then -

moenbryda as someone who (while not mean or cruel) is kind of callous and actually has much more of a Typical Sharlayan worldview compared to others. moenbryda who cares primarily about the people close to her and about Science (vs urianger who will sacrifice relationships for The Greater Good. what sort of conflicts and disagreements would they have ended up having?) all of this as a reaction to the social trauma of being left behind by her teacher and her friends - seemingly with no warning!

moenbryda, for all her gregariousness, approaches her goals with the motivation of scholarly/scientific curiosity more than the political activism/altruism that other archons have (louisoix, y'shtola, lyse, urianger) (in this she's similar to thancred, who is motivated more by his duty to minfilia than any personal desire for The Greater Good). louisoix introduced her to "the joys of learning" - and she could "ill comprehend her master's motive" for trying to go save eorzea. she was born and raised in sharlayan. she's lived there all her life. this is the first time she's ever left sharlayan (from what i can tell). she's on the more liberal side of things, relatively, but still. (i think we can also criticize louisoix's approach to pedagogy with moenbryda AND urianger here. Great Man ideology + Wise Old Mentor archetype.)

some amount of resentment towards urianger as an extension of her resentment towards louisoix. she doesn't want to feel that way. she loves her teacher and her best friend. but god damn i'd be resentful! i'd be hurt! there's little moments here and there of her criticizing urianger for not speaking plainly or being "excruciatingly stiff". bruises that neither of them want to press because it's the first time they've seen each other in five years after living in each other's pockets for their whole childhoods and young adulthoods. what kind of adults did they each grow into? are those adults still compatible anymore? what irritations have built up? trying to figure each other out again while still falling back into old familiar patterns (AND while your other friend is hitting on you and assuming that you two are together...!)

she's angry. she's scientifically curious. she's looking for answers to the turmoil that has plagued her as she was left isolated in a country that confirmed her negative feelings towards her teacher, that told her that yes, he absolutely was wrong to leave her, here's all the reasons why. she's looking to reconnect with her friends (who left her behind). she's drinking a lot.

no neat and tidy conclusion. i'm just rambling. tl;dr moenbryda as someone blunt, and focused on Her people rather than the rest of the world, and Angry about how she got left behind, and the most sharlayan of all our archons.

anyway im intensely bored by most depictions & characterizations of moenbryda being Perfect Angel Deadwife like booooo let her being the one who got left behind in sharlayan be a part of her character. what hasnt she unlearned from within that ivory tower? what resentments have built up? also she's taller than urianger by two inches. also so much art of her just doesn't draw her looking like herself - where are her nose and brow?? but noooo so much boring ideal-femininized fridged woman. BORING. WHAT ABOUT A PERSON