#markman

[dcbinges]

Solo #10 (2006) by Damion Scott & Rob Markman

[belayadeath-goner]

STARTER CALL ft. CLINT BARTON @markmans

SHOULDER BLADE PRESSED AGAINST DOOR FRAME, A SLIGHT LEAN TO SUPPORT HERSELF THERE. it's been a long night, evidently so for the both of them. “  you look like shit.  ” not exactly the most casual ice breaker, but anything less would be out of character for her.

[telecuckoo]

"   we'd   suggest   putting   it   in   the   cards   for   you.   "   the   cuckoo's   speak   in   unison   as   they   nod   together   [   ...   ]   always   together   :   never   apart   !   their   thoughts   psychically   bonded   since   as   early   as   their   creation.   she   often   wondered   what   it   would   be   like   to   have   silence   but   that   means   entrapment   in   her   own   mind.   to   be   left   alone   with   her   own   thoughts.   that   sounded   like   its   own   death   trap   that   celeste   would   never   be   prepared   for.   "   you're   old   and   decrepit.   basically   one   foot   in   the   grave.   ever   think   of   retirement?   "

@markmans 💎 this was never in the cards for me.

[throwsdiamonds]

CLINT BARTON: you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. @markmans

“  SEE, YOU MAY CALL IT LUCK, BUT I CALL IT SKILL. IT WAS COMPLETELY CALCULATED.  ” ever the one to attempt to diffuse tension with humor and sarcasm. she knows it hadn't exactly been a one - and - done deal, and she did cut it quite close at some point; but what's life without a little risk? with a hand still pressed to the cut on her shoulder and the torn up the fabric of her suit, diamond shrugged lightly on the un-injured one. “  easy peasy lemon squeezy !  ” though it seemed like clint wasn't all too enthused about her carelessness. “  um, yea, on a more serious note ... if yer' have any bandaids or maybe some gauze, i'd appreciate it.  ”

[quotesfrommyreading]

The plague swept Europe 700 years ago, killing a third of the population. It was called the Black Death, possibly for dark patches caused by bleeding under the skin.

It killed millions in China and Hong Kong in the late 1800s before scientists began associating the illness with rats and eliminating rodent populations.

The plague comes in three forms. If a person gets bitten by an infected flea, they'd most likely develop bubonic plague, named for the painful lumps, or "buboes," where the bacteria multiply. The bacteria can also get into the bloodstream, causing septicemic (or blood poisoning) plague, and can also spread to the lungs, causing pneumonic plague. The World Health Organization considers this variant to be one of the deadliest infectious diseases because it is highly contagious – spread by coughing — and the fatality rate is 100 percent if untreated.

Early symptoms of the plague can mimic the flu — including lethargy and swelling or stiffness in joints and lymph nodes. If someone begins exhibiting these symptoms after coming into contact with rodents or with pets in regions where the plague exists among animal populations, they should seek medical care immediately, Markman says.

  —  Bubonic Plague Strikes In Mongolia: Why Is It Still A Threat?

[graphicpolicy]

NYCC 2024: Charlamagne Tha God Presents AWA Graphic Novel, ILLuminati

NYCC 2024: Charlamagne Tha God Presents AWA Graphic Novel, ILLuminati #nycc #nycc2024 #nycc24

Join hip-hop legend Charlamagne Tha God at New York Comic Con on Friday, October 18 at the Javits Center (Room 1C03), as he presents, ILLuminati, a story written by acclaimed writer Bryan Edward Hill that tackles head-on the enduring urban legend of The Black Illuminati. Moderated by music executive and journalist Rob Markman, Charlamagne, artist Denys Cowan, and AWA Chief Creative Officer Axel…

[grooveys]

"   OH   TIGER,   YOU   BETTER   UNCOMPLICATE   IT   THEN.   "   you   were   persistent   and   one   who   often   refused   to   take   no   for   an   answer.   life   with   peter,   although   never   regrettable,   a   fault   that   damaged   them   was   the   secrecy.   believing   that   red   couldn't   handle   the   day   -   to   -   day   life   of   the   superhero   business   and   was   too   precious   to   face   the   challenges   it   brought.   [   ...   ]   what   a   joke!   since   the   age   of   infancy,   you'd   been   looking   after   yourself.   last   thing   that   was   needed   in   this   world   was   people   acting   as   if   mary   jane   was   some   weakling.

a   bottle   of   800   mg   ibuprofen   was   placed   in   front   of   him   :   [   this   wasn't   her   first   rodeo!   ]   fingers   run   through   cherry   red   hair,   sighing   in   both   relief   and   annoyance.   this   was   a   pretty   awful   predicament   she   found   herself   in   but,   nevertheless;   here   they   were.   "   ARE   YOU   OKAY   AT   LEAST?   I   MEAN,   ALL   THINGS   CONSIDERING   SINCE   THAT'S   YOUR   NATURAL   FACE.   "

@markmans 🎲 it was all really complicated. i'll tell you all about it someday.

[romanovdova]

it   was   like   you   were   a   walking   screaming   mimi;   the   nightmares   of   the   past   still   haunting   her   very   existence.   could   you   live   with   this?   to   put   it   simply   :   no.   [   ...   ]   but   you   must.   all   the   actions,   decisions   and   choices   you've   made   led   to   this   moment.   it   was   not   an   easy   journey,   in   fact,   most   would   consider   it   rather   terrorizing.   if   given   the   opportunity,   would   you   change   it   all   even   just   a   little   bit?   a   question   natalya   often   dwelled   on   but   tried   to   consistently   push   to   the   back   of   her   mind.   why   reflect   on   something   that   was   incapable   of   happening?

"   I   KNOW!   "   at   one   point   in   life   it   was   mission   over   the   people.   self-preservation   came   second   just   to   serving   mother   russia.   those   days   were   long   gone   though   as   she   focused   on   doing   some   good   in   the   world.   strange   how   the   times   have   changed.   [   ...   ]   you   barely   recognize   the   girl   you   once   were.   scary   enough?   you   hardly   recognize   the   woman   you   became   and   are   becoming.   "   I'LL   THINK   OF   SOMETHING.   "   russian   curse   words   slew   through   the   memory   bank.   they've   been   in   worse   predicaments   and   this   would   not   be   the   last.   "   WE   ALWAYS   SURVIVE,   DON'T   WE?   "

@markmans ⧖ listen! we've got to do something!

[frekcles]

there is a light breeze that surrounds them from a stygian manhattan skyline. the booming voices of guests and the audible clink of champagne glasses a vibrant backdrop in an otherwise intimate space. it was one of tony’s soirees with the earth’s mightiest heroes, as they were so affectionately called. with each having a dedicated floor for their exclusive use in the mansion. once in a while, or every so often for the case of the iron-clad hero, a party would be thrown after a long, grueling mission. they were all just human, after all. save for the god who could summon thunder from his hammer.

pepper had been leaning on the edge of their balcony. the crisp autumn breeze a gentle wisp to her fiery red locks, curled to perfection for the night’s events. she had on a satin emerald evening dress, tony’s favourite. " why don't you wear this everyday? " he would say. she stared at the horizon with a soft repose. needing a little downtime from the celebration indoors. 

@markmans: life doesn't tend to turn out like you think it will.

rufescent locks cascade on the crevices of her shoulders as she turns her head, having now realized that she wasn’t alone, and was now joined by the archer. she gives him a gentle smile. welcoming, acknowledging, the very same smile that had brought the corporate world to its knees. " oh, hi clint. how is it in there? did you need a breather too? " at the marksman’s remark, pepper exhaled. her thoughts having seemed to be reflected on her face, for him to so easily read them. " right.. do you ever— " she hesitates. shifting her weight from one foot to another before speaking again. " do you ever think about.. i don't know, seven year old you? do you think they’d be proud of who you've become? "

[alphapsi]

mutantkind   is   not   one   to   be   underestimated.   they   are   considered   homo-superior,   whether   they   like   to   acknowledge   it   or   not.   feared   by   the   public   and   often   targets   of   hate   crime.   they   are   sought   to   be   killed.   destroyed.   evolution   of   the   x-gene   refuses   to   allow   that.   they   are   inescapable.   just   as   jean   is   the   phoenix   of   fire   and   life,   inevitable.

"   good   because   if   the   avengers   threaten   my   students   again,   "   she   did   not   take   so   kindly   to   the   thread   of   the   government   intervening   on   their   school.   it   was   not   their   first   attack.   most   likely   not   their   last.   she   often   tried   to   be   a   pacifist   but   the   protection   of   her   students   was   the   utmost   importance.   their   lives   were   in   the   hands   of   her   and   she'd   do   anything   to   make   sure   they   had   a   future!   "   you'll   deal   with   me   instead   of   the   children.   "

@markmans 🔥 oh, i learned my lesson.

[dcbinges]

Solo #10 (2006) by Damion Scott & Rob Markman

[mikeynotjamesway]

Case in point

DD AU where the killjoys used scrap metal and motherboards from blind to upgrade the car to make it cooler but ended up recreating back to the future except it's them going around multiple universes

Call that the warped tour

[mitjalovse]

Why does John Cale produce the musicians he chose to work with? I mean, some of his choices don't make much sense. For instance, why did he collaborate in that function on a few tunes on Pop model by Lio. This sounds weird for Mr. Cale. Then again, isn't weird up to par for him? Let's remember – he got fired from The Velvet Underground for being way out there for them, especially for, gasp, Lou Reed. Thus Mr. Cale follows the beat of his own drum. Moreover, listen to one of Lio's songs he helmed – check the link – and ask yourself, if Cale told her to listen to his Paris 1919? I have a strange hunch he gave us a glimpse into a possible 80's remake of the LP with him helming some pieces from the record we discussed.

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp. 

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.” 

You feel his hands in your hair. 

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet. 

His hands stroke your hair. 

“You.” 

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down. 

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home. 

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.” 

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help. 

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!” 

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth. 

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.” 

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.” 

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity. 

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.” 

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something. 

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach. 

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there! 

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl,  rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all. 

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.” 

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward. 

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself. 

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart. 

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat. 

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.” 

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit. 

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face. 

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts. 

He thrusts harder and- 

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes. 

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits. 

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop. 

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together. 

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you. 

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him. 

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still. 

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room. 

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him. 

“Mrrow.” 

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor. 

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.” 

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

[silver-soul00]

I make a pseudo sequel to my previous post, responding to accusations directed towards the ship.

Always in a constructive manner.

[There are accusations that the Wednesday x Enid couple is ‘’toxic‘’.]

A frequent criticism concerns the character differences between Wednesday and Enid, with the argument that their differences could lead to a dysfunctional relationship.

However, research has demonstrated that differences are not necessarily detrimental to a relationship.

According to Markman et al. (2010), couples who are mutually supportive through differences tend to develop greater conflict resolution skills and strengthen their bond.

In the case of Wednesday and Enid, their differences do not create insurmountable distances, but rather offer opportunities for personal and collective growth.

Enid helps Wednesday explore emotions that she normally tends to repress, while Wednesday offers Enid a more rational and centred perspective.

Another accusation concerns the possibility of emotional dependency, where one party is overly dependent on the other.

Nevertheless, their relationship shows signs of healthy reciprocity.

In accordance with Kelley and Thibaut's (1978) model of interdependence, healthy relationships are characterised by a balance of power and mutual support.

Enid and Wednesday demonstrate this interdependence on several occasions: Enid supports Wednesday emotionally during difficult times, while Wednesday protects Enid physically and respects her as an equal. This mutuality is crucial to avoid toxic dynamics.

A lot of criticism of queer relationships derives from stereotypes and prejudices that do not apply to heterosexual relationships.

Queer literature, as examined by Adrienne Rich in the concept of ‘compulsory heterosexuality,’ suggests that queer relationships are often misinterpreted through the prism of heterosexual standards.

Queer relationships, like the potential one between Wednesday and Enid, do not have to conform to these standards to be considered valid and healthy.

Their interactions challenge traditional conventions, but this does not make them toxic; on the contrary, they provide a far more inclusive and diverse representation of relationships.

A core feature of healthy relationships is mutual support for personal growth, as pointed out by Deci and Ryan (2000) in their theory of self-determination.

Enid also encourages Wednesday to explore sides of herself that she would normally reject, helping her to emotionally grow. Wednesday, with her pragmatic approach, helps Enid to become more autonomous and assertive.

This mutually supportive dynamic contrasts sharply with toxic dynamics, where one side tries to belittle or hinder the other.

Stating that Wednesday could be toxic for Enid requires an in-depth analysis of the dynamics of their relationship, based on psychological patterns of healthy and toxic relationships.

Wednesday, while reserved and distant, does not show manipulative intentions toward Enid.

Available from Braiker and Kelley (1979), manipulation in relationships is characterized by intentional behaviors to gain power and control over the other. Wednesday, on the other hand, behaves in a straightforward and honest manner, although she can be brusque at times.

She never uses Enid for personal gain or to exert power, which eliminates a key aspect of toxic relationships.

Throughout the series, Wednesday shows that she is capable of emotional growth and learning from her mistakes, especially in her interactions with Enid.

Canary and Stafford (1992) point out that the ability to resolve conflict and grow together is an indicator of a healthy relationship. Wednesday, initially reluctant to express emotions, learns to recognize the importance of human connections through Enid's influence.

This suggests an ability to adapt and improve, not typical of toxic relationships, where harmful behavior is repetitive and static.

But despite their personality differences, Wednesday and Enid show a strong mutual respect for each other.

Wednesday, while often cold, does not ignore Enid's emotional needs and, on several occasions, tries to support her, albeit in her own way.

Bowlby's (1969) attachment theory highlights the importance of mutual emotional support as the foundation of healthy relationships.

Wednesday offers support to Enid when necessary, showing that he respects her needs and boundaries.

A crucial aspect of a toxic relationship is isolation, where one partner tries to separate the other from his or her support networks (Walker, 1979).

Wednesday, on the other hand, not only does not isolate Enid, but encourages her independence.

Wednesday respects Enid's need for other friendships and supports, demonstrating a healthy, non-possessive approach to the relationship.

We should not forget about the communication between Wednesday and Enid, which although sometimes difficult, is direct and honest.

According to Gottman (1999), open and honest communication is essential to the health of a relationship.

Even in times of conflict, Wednesday does not hide her thoughts or intentions, which helps a clearer and more respectful dynamic, avoiding the traps of manipulation or emotional control.

Some may object, even rightly, that Wednesday “used” Enid during the outing to the Gates mansion.

Indeed, there is an episode in which Wednesday involves Enid in her plans to explore the Gates mansion, an example of behavior that might appear to be exploitation or deception.

However, it is important to analyze the context and motivation behind the action to assess whether this represents a pattern of toxic behavior.

Wednesday does not exploit Enid in an ongoing or manipulative way;

Enid's involvement in this situation is more of an isolated incident related to Wednesday's determination to solve the mystery.

The key difference from toxic relationships is that Wednesday's intent is not to control or manipulate Enid in the long run, but rather to get help with a specific mission.

Toxic relationships are often characterized by repeated and systematic manipulative behaviors (Braiker and Kelley, 1979).

In Wednesday's case, the episode with the Gates mansion is an exception rather than a rule.

There is no evidence that Wednesday continues to exploit Enid on a regular basis or for selfish personal purposes.

And no, the exchange of places during the work at Pilgrim Word doesn't count at all, that's because that was an exchange that favors both clearly and without deception, Enid wanted to go together with Ajax and Wednesday wanted to please her favoring even herself.

An important element is Wednesday's ability to reflect on her mistakes and try to improve her actions.

After the mansion episode, Wednesday shows greater consideration for Enid's feelings and boundaries, a sign of personal growth.

In accordance with Gottman's (1999) research, the ability to recognize and correct one's mistakes is fundamental to a healthy relationship.

After the conflict caused by the visit to the mansion, Enid and Wednesday manage to discuss and resolve their differences. This indicates a relationship based on open communication and mutual respect, which contrasts with toxic relationships where conflicts tend to remain unresolved or lead to ongoing manipulation.

Well, now here's where I'm going to be much more direct, before you read this part I invite you to look up my analysis of why Tyler is a toxic partner (and especially because he doesn't really love Wednesday) in my Tumbrl account, because now that I'm going to make comparisons I'm going to use some cues from that post.

Tyler maintains deceptive and manipulative behavior for much of the series.

He hides his true identity and intentions, exploiting Wednesday's trust to get closer to her while serving his personal purposes as the Hyde monster.

This type of behavior is a classic example of emotional manipulation, where one partner uses the other's trust and emotions to gain personal advantage or control the situation, as described by Braiker and Kelley (1979).

He constantly uses deception and manipulation to maintain control of the situation.

This pattern is typical of toxic relationships, where manipulative behavior is continuous and an integral part of the relational dynamic (Walker, 1979).

In comparison, Wednesday's behavior toward Enid, even when it might seem abrupt or instrumental, is not characterized by persistent manipulative intentionality.

Wednesday involves Enid in a specific episode (the Gates mansion), but he does not try to systematically deceive or manipulate her for his own personal gain.

Always remembering that Wednesday's behavior, while insensitive at times, does not follow a consistent manipulative pattern.

His relationship with Enid is characterized by honest communication and mutual growth, not systematic manipulation.

Tyler shows no intention to change or be honest with Wednesday until he is discovered.

His lack of change and self-reflection is indicative of a toxic relationship, where manipulative behavior persists without improvement.

And here many might bring forward another objection.

That is, the fact that Tyler is not fully conscious; he is being manipulated by an outside person.

And that is true, but let me expound on that in a better way

There is a contradiction in saying that Tyler deceived Wednesday because he was under Laurel's control, but at the same time claiming that he really loved her.

If Tyler is completely under Laurel's control, then his manipulative actions toward Wednesday could be attributed to a loss of autonomy.

However, this would imply that he is not in control of his actions and therefore cannot truly love authentically, since love requires intentionality and will.

Authentic love involves conscious choice and genuine connection based on mutual respect, trust and understanding (Sternberg, 1986).

If Tyler is under Laurel's control, then he is unable to offer this kind of love, making any claim of authentic love inconsistent with his manipulative state.

Despite Laurel's control, Tyler maintains deceptive behavior for much of the series, hiding his true identity and intentions.

This behavior stands in stark contrast to genuine love, which requires transparency and sincerity.

Claiming that Tyler loves Wednesday while continually deceiving her creates a contradiction: deception is a sign of manipulation and disrespect, while genuine love requires honesty and respect.

According to Bowlby's (1969) attachment theory, a healthy relationship is based on mutual trust, which is clearly violated by Tyler.

Although Tyler is under Laurel's control, there is a question of personal responsibility.

If Tyler really loved Wednesday, one would expect him to find a way to resist or to warn her of danger, showing genuine concern for her welfare.

Tyler's lack of resistance suggests complicity, which contradicts the idea of genuine love.

In a healthy relationship, the partner should do everything possible to protect the other from harm, not to contribute to their deception and manipulation.

We therefore conclude this post with a comparison encapsulating all the info we have gathered in the series.

The relationship between Wednesday and Tyler initially develops on a false premise, where Tyler presents himself as an ally and confidant, only to turn out to be a threat.

This behavior reflects what psychologists call “emotional manipulation.”

A study by Christensen et al. (2006) of couples with abusive dynamics found that manipulators often use deception to create a sense of dependence and vulnerability in their partners.

Tyler uses his appearance as a reliable boyfriend to gain Wednesday's trust, only to betray her later, a clear sign of emotional abuse and deception.

Toxic relationships are often characterized by one partner trying to isolate the other from his or her support networks.

Although Tyler does not isolate Wednesday in the traditional sense, her emotional duplicity alienates her from her sources of trust and safety.

Studies such as Walker's (1979) work on battered women show how the sense of emotional isolation and confusion created by manipulative partners leads to deeply dysfunctional relationships.

Wednesday, in her search for answers, finds herself dependent on Tyler, only to be betrayed.

Tyler does not provide true support to Wednesday, but rather exploits her vulnerabilities for his own purposes.

According to Gottman and Silver (1999), one of the strongest predictors of relational success is the presence of mutual emotional support.

In the relationship with Tyler, this element is entirely absent, as his support is conditional and aimed at manipulation.

In sharp contrast, the relationship between Wednesday and Enid shows mutual support that encourages personal growth.

Following Deci and Ryan's (2000) self-determination theory, relationships that promote personal growth and autonomy lead to greater well-being and satisfaction.

Enid helps Wednesday explore aspects of herself that she usually represses, such as the ability to connect emotionally with others.

At the same time, Wednesday offers Enid a more rational and pragmatic perspective, helping her to become more confident.

Enid and Wednesday's ability to deal with and resolve conflict is a hallmark of a healthy relationship.

Without question, according to Canary and Stafford (1992), open communication and the ability to handle conflict are critical to maintaining a positive relationship.

Even when the two disagree, as shown on several occasions in the series, they manage to find a balance and respect each other's boundaries.

This mutual respect is fundamental to a balanced relationship.

The relationship between Wednesday and Enid is distinguished by the strong mutual support that fosters the development of both of their identities. Bowlby (1969) in his attachment theory stresses the importance of having a partner who provides emotional security, allowing the other to explore and develop their identity.

Enid provides Wednesday with a “safe harbor,” helping her navigate her complex emotions, while Wednesday provides Enid with rational support that encourages her to explore and accept her unique identity.

Studies such as Bancroft's (2002) on emotional abuse and coercive control show that toxic relationships are often characterized by a cycle of manipulation, isolation, and lack of mutual support, elements that are clearly found in the dynamic between Wednesday and Tyler.

In contrast, healthy relationships such as the one between Wednesday and Enid are based on reciprocity, open communication, and emotional support, elements that research indicates are fundamental to relational well-being.

The portrayal of positive queer relationships, such as the potential one between Wednesday and Enid, is supported by research that points to the importance of inclusive role models for the well-being of LGBTQ+ people.

A report by Meyer (2003) on minority stress theory shows that having positive models of queer relationships can reduce feelings of isolation and increase feelings of belonging and acceptance.

Thank you for reading this far and I wish you a good day✨✨✨

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”