#prisoner on the hell planet

[tenth-sentence]

"The Complete Maus" - Art Spiegelman

[empyreansentinel]

if angel was raised on pandora it means that she and jack lived as residential settlers during dahls occupation. grogmouth likely worked for the flynts who, being a high status family at the time, in turn worked for dahl. baron flynt was the warden of thor, a dahl mining rig that doubled as a prison. the companys sole interest in pandora to begin with was to extract eridium and find alien relics, so a siren would be a priceless bargaining chip for their efforts. all of this to say its very possible that the flynts were the ones who sent out the order for angel to be kidnapped.

[cosmicallydivine]

i love the way the way the locked tomb does gender. like gideon is butch, undeniably, but also can you really be gender non conforming when there’s no real image of gender to conform to in the first place? palamedes and pyrrah aren’t NOT trans in nona; their souls are trapped in different bodies, and those bodies ARE the wrong gender but also that’s literally the least of their problems. ianthe is pretty firmly in the box we would label “femme” and she’s simultaneously the princess of ida and a tower prince. but that’s also the least of her problems she’s literally puppetting a dead body around. nona experiences dysphoria about her body (harrow’s body and the barbie body) but that’s because she’s literally the soul of a planet trapped in a meat prison. any shaped meat prison would be bad.

like i wouldn’t call the locked tomb a “post gender” world, but they seem to all basically have the attitude of “i don’t have time for gender right now we’re trapped at the murder mystery dinner party from hell and someone stole god’s sperm we have bigger problems”

[cryptotheism]

So most of the time if you wanna invent a magical tradition you have to lie. You have to say you're a member of an ancient secret order of sages. Usually there's one guy who invented a thing and people build a tradition around the fake tradition he came up with. But for Hermeticism it's kinda the opposite. Thoth gave humanity writing, and science, and magic, so if you wanted to write about magic or occult science, and you were just some dickhead, you could lie and say that actually Thoth wrote your book. If you were Greek you thought Thoth was just Hermes with an ibis head and maybe you even thought he was like, a guy. So there's a Hermes with three parts so you call him Trismegistus; Thrice Great.

What is the Hermetic Corpus? Well that's all the books attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. These date from maybe 700bce to 400ad. Maybe. And they are written in like seven different languages. Also the texts constantly contradict each other. Sometimes the world is a hell prison made by an idiot god ruled over by demon planets and the only way to escape is to think really hard in a special way about secrets. Sometimes the world is a garden of mysteries created by a loving god seduced by his crestion that he abandoned his divinity to die within his lover and have children who would live on. Sometimes the world is our faculty for understanding reality but also that reality and also the mind of a god contemplating itself. Sometimes Tat is there.

[batsovergotham]

🦇 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗼𝗻 | A DETAILED GUIDE

regarding the project: whether or not you have read the comics, this is a straightforward tutorial for anyone wishing to write mark grayson more precisely. brief notes. genuine emotional breakdowns. no lecturing. no gatekeeping. just a straightforward, honest look at what really shapes him and how to use the source material to portray him accurately.

a/n: i posted the poll about making a how to write mark grayson guide today, but honestly... i’ve been working on this for a while, ever since i posted some fics. it started because a few people mentioned that some of my mark breakdowns helped them with their fics, and i thought it might be nice to have something more detailed all in one place. so even though the poll went up today, this guide’s been in the works for a bit hehe i really hope it helps anyone who wants to write mark more true to the comics! thanks for reading!

in the invincible comics, if there’s one thing about mark grayson, it’s that he’s stubborn as hell when it comes to his ideals. like, painfully stubborn. there are so many times where he just flat-out refuses to back down from what he believes is right, even when everyone around him is telling him he’s being naive or that it’s gonna blow up in his face. and since the show hasn’t gotten to a lot of these moments yet, let’s talk about some comic only examples that really show just how stubborn (and sometimes reckless) mark’s idealism can be.

okay, so first off: the whole fight between mark and cecil stedman (the government guy who runs the GDA)? it's turning point of mark's view of the GDA and what it truly means to be a hero. it also begins to shed him of his naivety.

basically, mark finds out cecil’s been doing all this shady stuff behind the scenes like building an army of zombie cyborg supersoldiers (the reanimen), working with literal evil clones, just... real villain behavior. cecil’s whole mindset is like, “yeah it’s awful, but it’s for the greater good.” and mark? hates it. the second he finds out, he’s ready to fight.

and cecil’s response? he doesn’t even try to explain himself anymore. he just sends a whole damn army of reanimen after mark to try and beat him into submission. it’s brutal. mark gets swarmed, blasted with this crazy sonic device they rigged up, he’s getting absolutely trashed, and he still refuses to back down. he barely escapes, pulls some of the guardians together, and marches right back to finish what he started.

they trash the reanimen, it’s a mess, and at the end, cecil’s standing there like, “i did what had to be done.” and mark, bleeding and furious, basically tells him to shove it. he straight-up quits. no backup, no government support, nothing just him deciding he’d rather be completely alone than be part of something he thinks is wrong. like... that’s mark grayson. stubborn to the end.

Universa Arc.

so, universa’s this alien warrior who shows up on earth basically trying to steal the planet’s energy to save her dying world. mark and eve fight her, they win, she gets thrown in prison. standard superhero stuff, right? most heroes would’ve been like “cool, problem solved” and moved on. but not mark. mark can’t let it go.

he actually goes out of his way to visit her in jail. just to talk. and when he finds out she was only doing all of this because her people were desperate not because she was evil or power-hungry or anything he immediately goes into “let’s fix this” mode. like, no hesitation.

and he doesn't just feel bad about it and leave, no, mark convinces the warden to let her go, helps her find a way to safely get the energy she needs without hurting anyone, and sends her back home to save her people. universa is so stunned she literally promises to repay him someday.

it’s honestly one of the purest things he ever does. he refuses to just see her as “the bad guy.” he sees the person underneath. he believes that people, even enemies, can do the right thing if you give them a real chance.

was it a little naive? yeah, kinda. but it worked because mark’s the kind of guy who means it. like, really means it. and people can tell. that’s why his idealism hits so hard. he never gives up on the idea that there’s a better way.

Oliver and Allen VS Mark

okay, so one of the most heartbreaking examples of mark’s idealism clashing with the people he loves is the whole scourge virus situation.

basically, allen the alien and mark’s half-brother oliver come up with this plan to release a modified version of the scourge virua, the same virus that almost wiped out the viltrumites, to finish the job for good.

and mark? mark is horrified.

he’s not just worried about the viltrumites (even though yeah, some of them deserve it). he’s thinking about the humans. he’s thinking about the risk. he’s thinking about how unleashing something that dangerous ever is just crossing a moral line you can’t uncross.

so he tries to stop them. and it turns into a full-on fight. it’s messy, it’s emotional, and somewhere in the middle of it all, oliver, desperate and panicking, accidentally infects mark with the virus. mark almost dies.

and even after all that, after being betrayed and almost killed by his own brother, mark doesn’t blow up in rage. he’s just heartbroken. because for mark, the real tragedy isn’t what happened to him. it’s that people he loves were willing to risk something so horrific, to cross a line he’s spent his whole life refusing to cross.

like... he would literally rather fight his own family, risk dying, than give up on his ideals. he genuinely believes that the ends don’t justify the means, even if it costs him everything.

The Final Battle with Thragg and Mark's Monologue

by the end of the comic, we really get the full picture of who mark grayson has become. all that stubborn idealism, independence, and moral conviction he’s built up over the years? it all comes to a head during his final battle with thragg.

and the thing is...mark’s not just throwing punches. he’s saying everything he’s believed, everything that’s come to define him. he straight-up rejects thragg���s whole worldview, the viltrumite mindset of "strength over everything." and while they’re fighting, mark gives this monologue (mid-fight, because of course he does) that honestly just hits you right in the chest:

“you see us as people living only for conquest, measured only by the size of our empire. no room for peace. no room for compassion. no room for love… the truth is you were holding us back… we can be a force for good. we can spread peace throughout the galaxy. we can love and be loved. we can be happy.”

like... that’s so mark. even after everything he’s been through, even while he's locked in a life or death fight, he still believes people, even viltrumites, can be better.

and it’s not just talk either. this is what mark actually wants. he’s trying to turn an empire built on war into something good. it’s insanely idealistic, yeah, but it’s 100% real. and what’s really cool is that he’s doing it his way. not the way any viltrumite leader before him would’ve done it. this is mark’s independence on full blast, he's building something new, completely breaking away from the old viltrumite pride and brutality.

thragg, of course, can’t even wrap his head around it. and mark beats him, physically and symbolically. it’s basically proving that compassion and strength aren’t opposites. mark’s showing that being a good person doesn’t mean being weak, and being cruel doesn’t mean you’re strong.

if you’re writing fanfiction that covers late-series or post-series mark, this moment is a huge thing to keep in mind. by now, he’s not the uncertain teenager anymore. he knows who he is and what he stands for. but he hasn’t lost that earnestness, that moral fire he had as a kid, if anything, it’s gotten stronger and sharper.

mark taking down thragg with conviction shows the kind of leader he’s grown into. he’s not just reacting to problems anymore; he’s actively trying to shape a better future. people look up to him, even people who used to be enemies, because of the integrity he shows. not because they’re scared of him, but because they respect him.

another super important thing: even after all that, mark doesn’t turn into some dictator. like, it would’ve been so easy for him to say, “i’m the strongest, i’m in charge now.” but he doesn’t. he stays focused on making things better. he pushes for the viltrumites to actually protect earth, to integrate, to live differently. he keeps that humility.

even at the height of his power, he’s worrying about being a good husband, a good dad (the finale shows his future family life), and living up to his ideals. he never stops checking himself because deep down, he’s terrified of turning into what his dad was.

so if you’re writing a future!mark or an alt ending where he’s leading the viltrumites or running with huge responsibilities, always keep that in mind: no matter how powerful he is, he’s still that same kid who’s scared of losing his humanity and who’ll do anything to protect it.

Now that we understand the Idealism surrounding his character, let's discuss how to actually write him.

okay so if you’re writing mark grayson in fanfics, one of the biggest things you have to remember is that he is not a soft boy. he is not a “yes man.” he is not some passive sunshine character who just agrees with whatever the hell his friends or love interest says because he’s so sweet and loyal. that’s just not who he is.

mark is kind. he’s empathetic. he loves deeply. but he is stubborn as hell when it comes to his beliefs. like painfully, frustratingly stubborn.

he doesn’t just roll over when someone he loves disagrees with him. he doesn’t abandon his moral compass to avoid conflict. if anything, he’ll fight even harder against the people he cares about because he believes so strongly in what he thinks is right.

this is the guy who:

tells cecil (the literal head of the GDA, who helped him post omni-man) to fuck off to his face because cecil’s methods are too corrupt.

tries to rehabilitate a literal eco-terrorist (dinosaurus) because he genuinely thinks they could do good together, even when everyone else calls him insane.

punches his own little brother and one of his best friends (oliver and allen) in the face when they want to use the scourge virus to wipe out the viltrumites, because he refuses to believe genocide is ever the answer even when it would save billions of lives.

goes into exile on an alien planet with his family instead of accepting a “peaceful” dictatorship run by robot, because he would rather lose everything than live under tyranny. then, he eventually comes back and kills robot himself.

like... mark is kind, yes. but he’s not compliant. he’s not someone you can easily sway just because you’re close to him. he doesn’t make decisions based on what’s easiest or what’ll hurt the fewest feelings. he makes decisions based on what he believes is right, even if it blows up his relationships. even if it hurts people he loves. even if it isolates him.

so when you’re writing him:

let him argue. let him push back when something doesn’t sit right with him.

let him get angry when his beliefs are challenged. he’s emotional. he’s reactive.

let him stand his ground even when it costs him.

let him care so deeply it hurts him sometimes.

don’t be afraid to show that he’s wrong, too because sometimes his stubbornness backfires horribly (like trusting dinosaurus). but even when he’s wrong, he’s never malicious. he’s never apathetic. he’s trying.

he’s not cold. he’s not cruel. but he’s also not a people-pleaser. he’s willing to lose friends, mentors, allies, and even his home if it means doing what he feels is right.

common mischaracterizations you should avoid:

making him a soft, easily manipulated boyfriend who never questions anything.

making him prioritize romance over his core values without struggle. (like, if you have him abandoning his morals instantly for love, it feels wrong. he might bend, but it would mess him up inside and cause conflict.) DO NOT CONFLATE HIS MORALS WITH WHAT THE GDA BELIEVES!!

making him unrealistically calm and detached. mark feels everything with his whole chest. when he’s hurt or angry, it shows. he doesn't bottle it up perfectly.

writing him like he's just “along for the ride” emotionally. mark makes decisions. he moves the plot. even when he’s wrong, he’s active, not passive.

writing mark grayson right means letting him be a mess sometimes. it means letting him get bloodied up in fights he probably can’t win. it means letting him make terrible mistakes because he believed too hard in someone. it means letting him love people and lose people and still keep standing, still keep hoping. still keep fighting for the better world he dreams of.

because that's what makes him invincible. not the powers. not the strength. it’s the fact that even when everything in him is broken, his body, his mind, etc, he keeps fighting for what he believes in.

bad vs good characterization examples for mark

example 1

bad: "are you sure about this?" he asked, voice trembling. "i mean... if you think it's right, i'll go along with it. i trust you." (he says nothing else. he just follows along. no hesitation, no conflict, just blind loyalty.)

why it's wrong: this makes him sound like a passive puppy who just goes wherever the story/author pushes him. mark is loyal, yeah, but he’s not a yes man. if something feels wrong to him, he’s going to say something even if it starts a fight.

good: "i don’t know if i can go with you on this," mark said, frowning. "i get why you want to do it... i do. but it doesn’t sit right with me. it’s not who i want to be." his hands flexed at his sides, restless. "i’m not trying to fight you. i’m trying to make you understand." (there’s tension. there’s conflict. but the love is still there. he’s standing his ground because he cares.)

example 2

bad: mark nodded immediately. "you're right. i didn’t even think about it that way. i’ll change everything i'm doing for you." (he has no independent thought. he never questions anything. he changes core beliefs instantly.)

why it's wrong: mark can compromise sometimes, but it’s never instant. if he changes his mind, it comes from hard conversations, real consequences, or deep emotional shifts. he doesn’t just flip a switch because someone asked him nicely.

good: "maybe you’re right," mark muttered after a long beat, his jaw locked. "but you can’t expect me to throw away everything i believe just because it's easier." he exhaled, frustrated, running a hand through his ebony hair. "i need to think. i can't just... pretend this doesn't matter."

key reminders when writing mark:

he’s stubborn. like cartoonishly stubborn. even when it’s inconvenient. even when it costs him everything.

he’s idealistic. he genuinely believes doing the right thing matters, even if nobody else believes it anymore.

he’s emotional. he feels everything with his whole chest. anger, sadness, guilt, hope, it’s never muted or put down for the sake of plot purposes.

he’s reactive. mark doesn’t always think things through. if he sees something he doesn't like or someone he loves in danger, he moves first, thinks later.

he’s not a people pleaser. even if he loves you, if you’re doing something he thinks is wrong, he’s gonna call you out. loudly.

he fights with people he loves. not because he loves them less but because he loves them too much to let them destroy themselves or cause harm to other people that causes conflict in what he believes in.

he’s not a soft boy. he’s kind. he’s empathetic. but he’s also willing to bloody his fists and risk his life for what he believes in.

he’s not passive. mark makes choices. even when they’re bad ones. he’s an active character who moves the plot forward.

he’s wrong sometimes. his idealism blinds him. he trusts the wrong people. he fucks up. and he owns it (eventually).

he doesn't believe violence is the first answer (especially at the end of the series). but when it’s necessary, he doesn’t hold back. if he’s in a fight, he’s there to win.

he can’t be guilt tripped into giving up his morals. you can hurt him. you can betray him. but you can’t make him become someone he’s not.

he keeps hoping. even after all the betrayal, death, loss, heartbreak he's gone through, he never fully lets go of hope.

NOTABLE MOMENTS TO HELP CHARACTERIZE HIM IN YOUR FIC

“DON’T EVER THREATEN MY FAMILY!!” – Issue #33.

this is mark at his absolute breaking point just pure protective rage, screaming at angstrom who just hurt his mom. it’s a simple line, but it hits because you can feel everything behind it. the second someone he loves is in danger, mark doesn’t hold back. he doesn’t care about looking heroic or calm, he just loses it. and that’s something to keep in mind if you’re writing him, when mark’s temper explodes, it’s not about his pride or getting even. it’s about protecting the people he loves. period. he’s like a lion protecting his cubs its all instinct, no hesitation. so if you’re ever writing a scene where a villain’s threatening someone close to him, picture mark practically shaking, shouting until his voice breaks, just burning with that raw, desperate anger. it’s not polished or composed, it’s messy, it’s emotional, and it’s all love underneath it.

“THIS IS BEING A SUPER-HERO? I'M JUST STOPPING CRAP FROM HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING REALLY WORTHWHILE… …AND WHEN I FAIL… MY GOD, I FAIL BIG. WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THE WORLD, EVE… …BUT INSTEAD THINGS JUST KEEP GETTING WORSE.” – Issue #81.

it’s not just some random thought he brushes off. you can tell it hits him. like... what if everything he’s been doing hasn’t actually changed anything? what if he’s just patching holes in something that’s already falling apart? it’s honestly a gut-punch moment because mark is usually so stubbornly hopeful. but even he isn’t immune to wondering if any of it’s enough. and it’s such an important part of who he is, he doesn’t just blindly believe everything’s fine. he feels it when it isn’t. he questions himself. he struggles with it. if you’re writing fanfic and you want to show a more introspective or vulnerable side of him, especially after something rough happens, this is the kind of feeling you want to tap into. not him giving up, but that raw, exhausted moment where he’s like, what’s the point if nothing ever really changes? it makes him feel real. because even with all the optimism and fight he’s got, sometimes the weight of it still catches up to him.

HOW TO WRITE HIS HUMOR/MORE LIGHT-HEARTED SIDE

mark isn’t all heavy drama and serious fights, he actually has a ton of light, funny moments, especially early on. like when he first starts getting his powers and his coworker asks him about his future, he just says

“finish high school, I guess.”

which is funny because he already knows he’s about to step into something way bigger.

there are little moments like that all over, times when he’s play fighting with william, or throwing out corny jokes, especially about stuff like science dog (his favorite comic, seance dog in the show). even though a lot of this guide focuses on the heavy, emotional stuff, it’s important not to forget these slice of life stuff

if you’re writing fanfics with him, adding in those little jokes or funny lines can really help keep mark in character. think about it like how spider-man cracks jokes during fights except mark’s version is a little less snarky and more dorky he jokes the most when he’s around people he’s comfortable with, and it’s not because he’s not taking things seriously it’s because that humor is just a part of who he is.

DISCLAIMER!

one of the biggest differences between comic mark and show mark is that comic mark is definitely rougher around the edges, especially early on. he’s not the super polished, always perfect hero type. in the early issues, mark can actually be kind of crude, he uses slurs (like the r-word) and makes some offhanded gay jokes, usually when he’s goofing around with william. it’s definitely surprising when you read it now, but it’s also important to understand that it’s part of his growth. it’s not written to make him look good, it’s showing that he’s a dumb teenage boy who hasn’t figured everything out yet. he says thoughtless, insensitive stuff because he’s young, immature, and still has a lot of learning to do.

and the comics let him grow.

later on, when william comes out to him, mark doesn’t just brush it off or make another dumb joke, he’s genuinely supportive. he accepts william without hesitation. and from that point on, you can see a clear shift, mark stops using slurs, stops making those kinds of jokes. it’s not a huge dramatic “lesson learned” moment, but the change is there. he matures. he gets it.

the show sort of skips over this whole messy, realistic part of his character arc. animated mark is a lot more careful and a little more "clean" from the start, he doesn’t really say anything offensive, and he’s framed as a lot more socially aware right out of the gate. which makes sense for a modern audience and a tv format, but it does smooth out some of the rough growth we see in comic mark.

comic mark’s early immaturity makes his later kindness and emotional intelligence feel earned. it’s not that he’s perfect, it’s that he chooses to grow, to be better, to really care about people in a way that goes beyond surface-level acceptance. that’s a huge part of what makes comic mark feel so real. he screws up, he says dumb stuff, but he listens, he learns, and he changes.

CONCLUSION AND FINAL NOTE!

at the end of the day, mark grayson isn’t about being perfect. he’s about trying. he’s stubborn as hell, emotional, sometimes reckless, and way more human than people give him credit for.

he holds onto what he believes even when everyone’s telling him to give up. he fights for the people he loves even when it costs him everything. he messes up (a lot), but he always, always tries to be better. that’s what makes him mark.

when you’re writing him, don’t be afraid to show all of it, the anger, the humor, the doubt, the stubborn hope that somehow refuses to die even when everything’s falling apart. he’s not supposed to be perfect or untouchable. he’s supposed to feel real.

sometimes he gets it wrong. sometimes he crashes and burns. but the point is, he keeps going. he cares even when it’s easier not to. and that’s why people love him.

i hope breaking all this down helps if you’re trying to write him, understand him better, or just see where he’s coming from. because when you really look at it, mark’s whole story isn’t about being the strongest guy in the room it’s about being the one who refuses to give up on people, even when it would be easier to stop caring.

thanks for reading! and honestly, if you ever feel stuck writing him, just go back to that core idea > he never stops trying. that’s who he is.

[oystermark]

i just thought of something with my reaper reader (link to my introduction of them) with the variants.... so here's that ramble (i just HAD to)

reaper gn!reader x mark variants (suggestive) (not proofread)

cecil finally had a good enough reason to use your powers, yes you can't outright kill mark but you can weaken him significantly faster than any other being on this planet can. yes you might kill some people on accident because of the nature of your powers but at this point it's a risk he's willing to take.

(in this world, mark is dating eve, the tension between you not spoken for. which is why the reader is so shocked when the variants flirt with them.)

no goggles!mark would fucking love you, even more in this world. the you in his world also had the same powers but was murdered after dating him for 2 months, you were the goddamn best. you'd hit like a fucking truck and actually hurt him, which totally made him hard and he told you so without shame.

now... now though, you have the decapitated head of the variant with the long hair. your pupils were white, the shape of a dragons sharp and dangerous, your eyes multicolors of purple; glowing menacingly as you walk towards him. the purple to murky purple ombrè color of those hands reaches your forearms, your fingers clawed. your steps leave a sea of glowing purple behind you, purple small glowing butterflies and strange flowers blooming with your steps. he'd say that long cloak looks corny but on you it somehow looks, really hot.

this...you, you were so...fuck he wants to just pounce on you but... he wants to hear that menacing tone of your voice, he missed it so damn much.

you throw the head to his feet with a glare fixed on his face, as the blood splashes on him he shudders with pleasure.

oh this is going to be good. he suppressed a whimper.

"babe, is that a present for me? you shouldn't haveee,"

he cooed with both of his hands cupping his cheeks, your lips and eyebrows twitched in irritation which just made his smirk widen.

"come with me, and your head just might stay intact." your voice boomed around the building, and this time, he didn't suppress a whimper.

he got up from where he was kneeling, his legs a little wobbly from the blood rushing to his dick. "fuck, babe. you just know how to make me feel," he takes a step towards you, almost undettered by your powers, "so good."

he hears your breath hitch, moans and grunts as you kick him right on the stomach, his body slamming to the wall. you quickly run towards him and grab him by the neck, "i don't want to kill you. stop talking and come with me" you growled those last words with so much anger- your body went taut as you felt him shake in your grasp. you glared up and down his body as he grinned and took your other hand, curling it into a fist and patting his cheek with it.

"so...rough," he attempted a chuckle, his voice came out in strangled breaths as your hand on his neck tightened at the contact, "come on...show me....show me that power...again. hurt- hurt me, make me come with you yourself..."

mohawk!mark

"hah! is this what you guys call a prison in your world!?" as soon as those words left his mouth, someone plummeted him to the ground hard, knocking the air from his lungs.

he saw the other 'heroes' run away from him now, as his nose started working again, he smelt death in its purest form.

ah. it's them.

"hey sweets, fancy meeting you here, hm?" he snickered as he felt you press him down harder, your breathing shallow and quick. "now the way you're breathing down my neck gives me quite a few ideas," your hand found his nape and slammed his head down on the concrete again, he laughed, spitting blood in the process. "what the hell are you talking about?"

he turned his head around as much as he could to get a look at that face, those eyes that had his heart in a grip, and he smirked, "how about you get off me and i show you what i really mean?" he snickered at the small gasp you let out, he could feel your body warming up.

in your flustered state that lasted for 1.2 seconds, he shot up from under you and pinned you to the floor by your forearms.

"still so fucking fine huh? the me from this world really lucked out," your expression soured for the smallest of a fraction as he put his face closer to yours, his eyes widened with delight and he laughed. "holy shit, you guys aren't dating!?" the way your eyebrows furrowed and the way you averted your gaze told him everything he had to know. fuck, mark from this world really was a fucking idiot.

his lips latched onto your neck as you thrashed under him, you could kick him off you if you wanted to, you're strong. but you didn't.

you wanted this. oh.

he smiled against your skin as he took your chin with one hand, "you haven't made a sound," the hand on your chin went under your cloak and gripped your ass, making you arch into him with a quiet moan as your eyes shot open, those haunting (hot) eyes looking at him so expectantly,

"but i know how to make you sing, c'mere"

you let yourself fall into his kisses and embrace.

-

a/n: i wrote this deliriously but if u want to ask about other variants w this reader or main mark go ahead!!!! id love to write their reactions to anything w them

[mintyys-blog]

Hellooo! Can I just say that I am in love with your writing? Your work is literally perfection 💕

On that note, could I request Viltrumite!Mark x reader, but reader either being taken back to Viltrum by Mark, or kinda being raised on Viltrum but still rebelling??

So either Viltrumite!Mark goes to earth, falls in love with reader, reader is super strong so he takes them back and they become his “pet” (and maybe they’re so strong/useful that the Viltrumite’s can’t just kill them) But they rebel by having fun, making a radio listening to music, painting, just still trying to enjoy human things. But Mark and the other Viltrumite’s are just confused af

Or reader is taken by a Viltrumite as a child/baby because they’re OP af (Nolan situation, but the Viltrumite adopts their partner’s previous kid). Is kinda raised on Viltrum, still has that human attitude and still rebels in the same way. Is expressive, listens to music, dances, sings, cooks, etc. But now the Viltrumite’s watches as a human turns one of their warriors into a loving parent. Same premise, Mark falls in love with reader, reader still finds ways to enjoy life, confusing Mark, etc.

(Idk what power they would have, maybe something like Yuki Tsukomo’s cursed technique, because she’s OP and I love her. Or maybe reader has like Kryptonian/Starfire abilities?? Idk, you can pick whatever you want. And if this is too weird or confusing then feel free to ignore this. Have a nice day ❤️❤️)

REBEL | viltrumite! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: kidnapping

Mark found you on Earth. Not cowering. Not running. Standing.

You were radiant—glowing with a heat that cracked the asphalt beneath your feet. Your energy flared like a second sun, brilliant and unpredictable. You didn’t need to throw a punch. The force that wrapped around your body like a second skin pulsed with every emotion. A living aura that bent reality around you, the result of a rare cursed technique shaped by willpower alone—like the universe answering your emotions with violent truth.

And when he tried to take you down?

You smiled. He knew then that he wouldn’t kill you. Couldn’t. And so he took you.

⸻

Viltrum was… sterile. Cold. Brutal. A world forged in discipline and blood. And yet, in the middle of it all, you glowed. Literally. Your power made your skin shimmer like starlight, your eyes ever-burning with that same dangerous emotion they couldn’t understand.

Mark brought you to Viltrum thinking he could break you in quietly. He didn’t call you a prisoner, but the word lingered unspoken. The Council debated your existence in private chambers, wondering if you were a threat or an opportunity. You didn’t care. You were too busy making noise.

Your quarters—technically a suite for a high-ranking soldier—became your sanctuary.

You painted the metal walls with glowing sigils, strokes of cursed energy infused in each color, humming songs from Earth as you worked. You carved a primitive speaker system into the walls, rigged it to play music from memory and vibrations stored in Viltrumite data drives. You danced barefoot through the corridors, trailing light, your hair lit with energy like a comet’s tail.

Mark found you spinning in the center of your room one day, music thrumming against the walls. Your mural stretched across the metal—planets with faces, stars bleeding laughter, and a massive figure in a blue and black suit painted into the sky, a gentle expression on his face. Him.

He stared at it for too long.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered.

You glanced over your shoulder, then smiled. “Reclaiming this place.”

His jaw clenched. “This isn’t Earth. You can’t just play pretend here. These people—my people—will tear you apart if they think you’re a threat or a joke.”

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, dipping a brush into light and slapping it across the wall like rebellion. “This is me. I’m not a soldier. I’m not a pet. I’m not some nameless asset in your crusade.”

“Then what are you?” he snapped, stepping closer, expression unreadable.

You turned, meeting his eyes, all the chaotic power in you burning beneath your skin. “I’m human. And that’s everything you’ve forgotten.”

⸻

Word spread fast. Viltrumites avoided your wing of the palace, unnerved by the strange energy in the walls. Some accused you of sorcery. Others whispered that your power could twist minds. You laughed. You built wind chimes from scrap metal and taught soldiers how to play poker. You cursed a general’s boots to squeak for three straight days.

The Council confronted Mark. “She’s mocking our world. Undermining control.”

“She’s not a threat,” Mark replied. “She’s just… different.”

“She’s undisciplined. She does not obey. That makes her dangerous.”

Mark didn’t have a response for that.

Because deep down, they were right. You were dangerous.

But not in the way they feared.

⸻

One night, Mark stood outside your door, staring at the soft music echoing through the hall. Something acoustic. A slow beat. A human song with lyrics he didn’t understand. When he stepped inside, he found you sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, surrounded by sketches and paint-stained cloth. You looked up at him like you’d been expecting him.

“You okay, soldier boy?” you teased.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned the room—your art, your light, your presence. Something in him clenched.

“You’ve changed this place,” he said quietly. “Changed me.”

“Is that so bad?”

“I don’t know yet.”

You stood, approaching him slowly. You tilted your head, and the starlight in your veins pulsed faintly, echoing your emotions. “You were born here, but you don’t belong here either, Mark.”

He didn’t stop you when you reached for him. Didn’t stop you when your fingers brushed his face, trailing warmth where nothing but blood and war had touched him before.

“You brought me here to break me,” you whispered, leaning closer. “But all I’ve done is show you what it means to be alive.”

Mark didn’t kiss you. Not yet. But he didn’t walk away either. He stood there in the low glow of your self-made sanctuary, surrounded by your colors, your music, your warmth. And something inside him—it stirred. Twisted. Something he didn’t want to name.

The next day, you were gone. Not missing. Not dead. Just… relocated.

They stripped your room bare. Took the paint, the music, even the rugs you’d made from recycled cloth. The walls were scrubbed clean, your mural painted over in stark gray. You woke in a sterile chamber deep below the palace, guarded by soldiers who flinched every time your power flickered.

Mark didn’t show up. Not for days.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t break down. You waited. And when they brought your meals, you thanked them. When they tried to interrogate you, you smiled and asked if they’d ever seen stars up close. When they accused you of sorcery, of manipulation, of corrupting their precious heir, you laughed and said they didn’t know what corruption was. Not really.

Mark finally came to see you when the Council threatened to execute you.

“She’s too unpredictable,” they told him. “She’s not a soldier. She’s not one of us. Either she bends to our order… or she breaks.” He stood in your chamber like he didn’t recognize you, arms crossed, jaw clenched. “You could’ve made this easier.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy,” you said calmly. “I was trying to make it real.”

“I warned you.”

“You did. But you also knew I wouldn’t stop.”

He exhaled slowly. “They’re going to kill you.” You stood, the light beneath your skin flickering. “Then let them try.”

He moved before he could stop himself, hand grabbing your wrist, grip firm—but not cruel. “Don’t.” You met his eyes. “Then do something.”

That night, you weren’t returned to your old quarters—but you were moved. Not quite free, not quite caged. The room was quiet, untouched, and large enough to pace. Mark posted guards outside, ones that reported to him. He didn’t say what he told the Council, but whatever it was—it worked.

For now. But you were still a fire. One they didn’t know how to contain. You rebuilt your radio. Pieced together wires with nothing but touch and memory. You played songs that echoed down the halls. You painted on stolen scraps of metal and used energy to etch patterns into the floor. You whispered stories to the guards who didn’t speak to you. You hummed lullabies that made them shift uncomfortably.

Mark kept coming back. He never said why. Sometimes he brought questions. Sometimes he just sat in silence, arms resting on his knees as you sang or told him about things that no longer existed on Earth. Things he never cared about until now.

“Why do you care about all this?” he asked once, watching you sketch a bird mid-flight. “It’s meaningless.”

“It’s everything,” you said softly. “It’s freedom. Emotion. Beauty. It’s the reason not to burn everything to the ground.” He didn’t respond.

But the next day, he brought you a paintbrush. One you hadn’t asked for. You took it without a word, fingers brushing his as you did. He didn’t move away.

One of the guards eventually reported that your energy output was growing—steadily, but without aggression. The Council demanded another evaluation. This time, they watched from behind thick glass as you levitated mid-air, body pulsing with raw, radiant energy, yet never attacking. Instead, you painted stars in the air, one by one, until the room shimmered with constellations.

“She could destroy us,” one whispered.

“But she hasn’t,” Mark said.

“And if she does?”

“She won’t,” he answered, voice low. “Not unless we give her a reason.”

You saw him watching you through the glass. His expression unreadable.

You floated down slowly and stared straight back at him. Then, without fear, you drew a simple shape in the air with your fingers. A heart. He couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips— a small smile coming on his face.

[luv-lock]

Thinking about what the invincible variants were thinking when they see the mainstream alien!reader... Now think about what the variants talking about their respective alien!reader when they were stuck in the wasteland dimension (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Oh, this is good. Imagine all the different Invincible variants stuck in that wasteland dimension, looking at each other, realizing just how different their relationships with their respective alien readers are. Some of them probably think they got the best version. Others? Yeah… not so much. For the sake of it let's pretend main Mark is there too.

When They See the Mainstream Alien Reader

The first thing they all notice? She’s normal. Well, as normal as a Qu can be. She’s protective, strong, and yeah, a little terrifying when it comes to keeping Mark safe, but she’s not trying to conquer planets, not committing genocide, and definitely not treating Mark like a glorified blood bag or a means to an end. She actually cares about him.

Sinister Mark? He’s looking at her like she’s an alien in a way he’s never seen before. “Wait, she doesn’t eat people?” He doesn’t get it. How is she not constantly dripping in blood? How does she not rule over something? More importantly, how does this Mark have all his limbs intact?

Viltrumite Mark? He just stares because, honestly, he can’t even imagine a version of his wife who isn’t sick and frail. His version can barely keep her eyes open half the time, and here’s this one, standing beside her Mark, fully awake and looking healthy. He hates how much that pisses him off.

Mohawk Mark? He just laughs. “Oh, so you actually like her? That’s cute.” His Y/n only cares about herself, so the idea of one actually prioritizing Mark is just hilarious to him. He calls it pathetic, but deep down, he wonders what it’s like to have a partner who gives a shit.

When They Talk About Their Own Alien Readers

Eventually, when they’re stuck in the wasteland long enough, they start talking. And the more they talk, the more they realize… some of them are in absolute hell.

Normal Mark (Mainstream)

"So, uh… you guys don’t have this? Y’know, a wife who actually cares about you?"

He’s confused. How did he get the best version of her? Why are all their relationships so weird? His Y/n follows him everywhere, sure, but she doesn’t treat him like shit, doesn’t use him, and she’s a great mom.

The more he listens to them, the more he realizes just how insane their versions are.

He starts feeling lucky. Really lucky.

Sinister Mark

"Yeah, no, I don’t want yours. I like mine just the way she is."

He adores his version. Is it toxic? Absolutely. Do they kill together? Yes. Do they sometimes eat people together? Also yes.

He doesn’t understand how anyone could be satisfied with a Qu who isn’t a complete monster.

He’s also lowkey judging Viltrumite Mark. “Dude, you have her locked up? She’s your prisoner? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Viltrumite Mark

"You wouldn’t understand. She’s fragile. She needs me."

He acts like he’s got everything under control, but the more he listens to how alive everyone else’s versions are, the more he starts questioning things.

He convinces himself that his Y/n being weak is a good thing. That it makes her special.

But there’s a part of him that wonders what it would be like to have a version of her that wasn’t always sick, that didn’t need to be locked away.

Mohawk Mark

"Bro, mine’s just in it for the sex. She doesn’t even remember my name half the time."

He thinks it’s hilarious. Everyone else is talking about how they have some kind of relationship with their Y/n, meanwhile, he’s just out here dealing with the most selfish version possible.

He doesn’t care, though. He enjoys himself. He gets what he wants, and so does she.

But after hearing everyone else talk, a small part of him wonders what it would be like to actually have a real connection. Not just physical, but actual affection. He’d never admit it, though.

How the Conversation Ends

By the end of it, Normal Mark is sitting there like, "Damn. I really won, huh?" Meanwhile, Viltrumite Mark is trying to convince himself he’s happy, Sinister Mark is fully convinced he has the best version of all time, and Mohawk Mark is just vibing, pretending he’s fine.

Honestly, if they ever got out of that wasteland, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them started questioning their entire existence.

[opencommunion]

"I was there and I know how hard it is in captivity," said Menir. "Every day in captivity was very difficult. I was in a home when there was shelling all around. We were sitting in the tunnels and we were terribly afraid that not Hamas but Israel would kill us, and then they would say, ‘Hamas killed you.’ So, I very much ask as soon as possible to start exchanging the prisoners and everyone should return home. There is no priority [of some over others]. Everyone is important.” ... A 6 December report from The Grayzone further indicates freed Israeli captives feared being killed by their own army while in Gaza. According to a Facebook post by Israeli television producer Hagai Levi, "From the reports of the returning abductees, it is repeated that the most horrifying captivity trauma they experienced was probably the IDF bombings." Levy stated further that, "When they tell about them, they literally tremble in front of me. The terms are of hell, of the brink of death, of an earthquake, of noise from another planet (which also caused permanent hearing damage). The fear of being murdered by the captors was zero compared to the fear of dying in the bombing."

[whats-in-a-sentence]

"The Complete Maus" - Art Spiegelman

[tenth-sentence]

"The Complete Maus" - Art Spiegelman

[justagirlswrld]

Help me, invincible, you’re my only hope.

a/n: somebody asked for part 2 and i was like you know what hell yeah lmao. thanks for the likes and reposts!! feed back welcomed. (might delete kind of feel like it sucks lmao)

part 1

warnings: violence, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v. the usual sex stuff. porn w plot.

Mark is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, just reaching deep sleep when he’s jolted awake by the sound of what he thinks is an injured cat.

His head is pounding when he finally finds a thin device wrapped up in a shirt underneath his bed twenty minutes later. He can’t figure out how to stop the aggravating noise and is ready to rip it in half when he remembers what it is.

You had given him the technology the day he left Soloria. Your nimble fingers briefly showing him how to use it to communicate with you. When he finally got it to work the screeching stops and the screen comes to life with the same pale, yellow energy from the transporter.

To Mark’s surprise you appear from the device as a hologram, your skin pastel yellow instead of your usual hues of pink. “This is so cool.”, Mark says in awe.

“Mark Grayson?”, your voice is almost a whisper.

“Just Mark, Y/N.”, Mark sits the tablet down on his desk before standing in front of it. He wants to bring up how you said you’d send a ‘transmission’ before he came back to Earth two months ago. But then he starts thinking of your mouth stretched around his length and you have to call his name twice to get his attention.

“This is of the most Importance, Mark. I need your help.” Mark crosses his arms, half of him wants to tell you yes so he can finish the simple task and have his face buried in your sweet cunt for another three months. The other half of him is mad that you were just now calling.

Mark’s pride outweighs his lust and you watch as his hologram shakes his head no.

“No? You can’t say no, you are invincible, defender of the helpless.”, Desperation laces your words but Mark doesn’t pick up on it, all the blood had rushed from his head to his dick while he was reminiscing about his time with you.

“I’m not in my suit.”, Mark picks the device up, fixes his semi in his pajama pants then lays back on the bed, “…And you didn’t send me a transmission for two months, what’s so important now?”

Your hologram sighs, “I deeply apologize, Mark. I meant to send a transmission sooner but you know I had to marry-“, Mark’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He’d completely forgot that you were forced to marry an arranged suitor once your tryst was over. He didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.

“A wedding is a month long celebration on my planet, I’m contacting you at my earliest opportunity.” Mark is listening to you but he’s also trying to ignore the feeling of jealousy coursing through him. “This is why i’m communicating with you now, Mark.”

You explain to him that you’ve married a tyrant, how he wants to enslave your people and destroy your planet.

Mark’s thick brows pull together, “Isn’t that what Edolan said when he lied for you?” Mark continues with a smirk on his full lips, “You don’t have to tell me your planet is going to be destroyed for me to come fuck you.” He meant every word too. He’d been thinking about you since he’d left and was getting tired of his hand.

“This is not about pleasure, Mark. My people are in peril and you are the only one who can stop this monster-,” You grunt disdainfully before continuing, “I tried to eliminate him myself but he was stronger than I thought. I’m now a prisoner in my own home.”, The whole statement takes Mark completely aback. He’s still not convinced that you weren’t just saying this for some dick but he agrees to come anyway.

You explain to Mark how to transport with the thin device before ending the transmission. Mark wonders if he should come naked incase you transport him directly to your room but ends up suiting up.

When Mark’s feet hit cobblestone, he takes in Soloria with a smirk. Besides the kids that usually play in the streams near the courtyard nothing seemed out of place. He knew it was just a booty call, not that he was mad. He’d just have to teach you how to ask for dick like a normal…person.

Mark is gliding to the castle,thinking about what he wants to bend you over first when the castle’s huge doors fly open to reveal a brawny, orange man simmering with rage.

“My wife sent you to defeat me?! I laugh in your face! You can not stop me! I will enslave you and the rest of these Solorians-“, He balls his hand into a very, large fist. “And kill anyone who defies me.”

Before Mark can respond multiple wolf like creatures appear from thin air causing screams to errupt from the townspeople near him. The aliens snap at him with rows of sharp teeth, they’re ferocious as they try to latch onto him but it takes Mark minimal effort to defeat the animals.

“You’ve gotta come with something stronger than that!” Mark says taunting your ex husband as he pulls a beast in half, covering his suit in its silver blood.

Mark flies the rest of the distance to the castle. When he arrives your ex-husband is waiting for him, he’s trying to use his gargantuan body to block the castle doors.

Mark lands and walks over to the large stone steps with his palms raised, The Solorian towers over him with a sneer. Mark’s face fills with annoyance, he really wanted to get up to your room but someone always wanted to fight.

“Hey, man. Just go and don’t come back. I don’t want to hurt you.” Mark says, hands going to rest on his hips.

“Hurt me? A puny earthling could never!”, Mark kicks him into the far side of the castle, his body resembles a star fish when his back connects with the stone wall. Debris fall on his unconscious head. When winged guards fly from the castle he points in the direction of your ex husband and advises them to chain him up.

When you hear the commotion from outside your window you peek your head out of the room and smile cheerily while dancing with happiness when you see the orange man being put in chains.

You throw a lively party in Marks honor, it starts that afternoon and stretches into the wee hours of night. You’re completely fucked up by the time it’s over and Mark has to fly you back to your chambers, he lays you on your large bed gently before stripping off his suit.

When he turns back to you you’ve taken off the jeweled dress you wore. You were now completely naked save for the shimmering tiara in your hot pink hair.

“Invincible, my savior.”, You say sensually, crawling over to the side of the bed Mark was standing by. It sounds like the mead was leaving your system but Mark didn’t want to take advantage of you, his mom always said drunk people can’t consent.

It took his viltrumite strength to remove your pink hand from his crotch, he accidentally groans out loud when he sees you biting your lip in annoyance. “You no longer want to lay with me?” You ask as you sit back on your heels. Mark had been whispering vulgar things to you the whole party and you were giddy in anticipation.

It takes everything in Mark to not look down at your supple, bare skin. “N-No, I really want to lay with you but you had so much to drink.” You laugh, taking his large hand in yours then pulling him to sit on the bed beside you.

You rub your hand on his muscular thigh and tease your pink fingers under the leg of his boxers. “Mark Grayson, You worry too much above trivial things.” When you kiss him it’s all tongue and he thinks he might buss on the spot, luckily he doesn’t but he’s a panting mess when you pull away from him.

Mark uses the last ounce of his self control to stop your wandering hands. He was trying to show some restraint but god, he just wanted to slip into your tight walls. “I-Uh think we should wait till the morning. You had so much mead, Y/N.”

You ignore his words and slip onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his lean shoulders, “Mark, please fuck me. I have not experienced pleasure since you were on Soloria….I feel like a virkin.”, your voice is whiny and breathless. You didn’t even realize you were grinding your wet cunt on his clothed erection until it started sending tingles down your spine.

Mark would’ve laughed in your face if he wasn’t so hard.

With his resolve weakened he can do nothing but lay back, muscular arms tucked under his head for comfort. He watches you with glazed eyes as you pull his boxers down enough to allow his hard cock to be set free.

You waste no time, sinking down on him with a moan. The stretch is so wonderful that it has you wondering why you didn’t follow him to Earth instead of getting married.

You place both hands on his chiseled stomach for purchase as you raise yourself up on your toes, bringing your wet cunt down on him roughly. This pulls moans from both of you, Mark has to force his eyes open to watch as you ride him. He wants to remember the image of your soaking cunt sliding up and down his cock in the moonlight for the rest of his life.

Mark allows you to stay on top of him until he notices your feet becoming wobbly. He sits up and instructs you to lay on your back.

Once you’re lying on the soft covers, Mark positions himself in front of you, kneeling on his heels while he takes your legs and throws both over his shoulder. He keeps them together as he pulls your lips apart, teasing you both by sliding his length back and forth between your wet folds.

Mark’s tip bumps into your nub with every soft thrust and it sends your toes curling. He notices the appendages and can’t help but to bend your leg some and pop them in his mouth, licking and moaning around them as he slides into your warmth.

You let out a whine that turns into a breathy moan when his hips meet yours. Mark licks your toes one last time before moving your leg to its original place on his shoulder.

Mark’s strokes are deep and well paced. Each one has you crying out as he repeatedly bumps your cervix and brushes against spots deep inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You grip the covers and throw your head back in ecstasy as Mark ruts into you, breath hitching and back arching as he begins rubbing hard circles on your swollen clit.

You cry out when your release sneaks up on you. Your thighs tremble as Mark flips you on your stomach then sinks his hard cock back into your spasming sex. You cry out, voice carrying in the open space of your room.

Mark kisses and suck’s your neck as he chases his own release, his voice is breathless and warm as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Through your lust induced haze you swear you hear him say that you should’ve married him instead of your ex husband but your approaching orgasm steals your attention.

Mark’s head drops into the crook of your neck as your cunt convulses around him. He thinks about pulling out but it’s like your soft walls pull him in deeper and deeper, you clench around him once more and his eyes are rolling back as he comes. He has to fist his hands in the covers to ground himself.

He pulls out of you slowly and moans at the sight of his release leaking out of your puffy cunt.

Mark is lying on his back, trying to catch his breath when you start speaking to him, your breathing just as haggard as his. He’d assumed you’d fallen asleep.

“Did you offer to marry me?” You ask Mark, watching his blushing face with the help of the moonlight. “Wh-what? no.”, he stutters out, he looks anywhere but at you as he fluffs a pillow on your bed.

“Are you being deceitful Mark Grayson?”, you scoot over to where he’s lying and press your sweaty body against his. You whisper in his ear and watch as he shivers, “If you were serious during our throes of passion I accept your offer but I would need to get adjusted to earth first.” He wraps his arm around your neck, biceps bulging as he pulls you closer. “Let’s talk about dating first.” Mark says through a yawn. You knit your brows together in confusion, “What is dating?”

[galactic-rhea]

If I ever write a "Anakin doesn't fall to the dark side and Padmé doesn't die" you bet is going to be anything but a fix it AU, because the only thing fixed is that there's not Vader, but I'm still going to put these characters through some awful damn stuff.

Like, literal persecution, literal spending one night in a moon and the next day running for the lives. Stuff like Padmé having to leave a wounded Anakin behind as she runs with the twins. And then it's days before they reunite again.

Like Padmé didn't die, good. Anakin is still Anakin and he still has an incredible godawful amount of C-PTSD and unhealthy coping mechanisms and he was constantly in battle 3 days ago, he might react badly by punching someone until his hands are bloody just because someone used a whistle that sounded a bit like a battle droid. He doesn't sleep, he literally stands guard with his lightsaber in hand unable to sleep while the babies and Padmé get some sleep on the floor of some abbandonned shack in the middle of nowhere in non-described planet number 4th of the week.

Stuff like Anakin being torn with the "who will you save" (again) between staying with his family VS learning that Obi-Wan was captured (is even true, is that information true, how are you so sure).

Stuff like Padmé having to watch how the Empire records in live Holo-TV how her family is captured and being taken prisoners to try and rat them out, because they're getting on Palpatine's nerves.

Anakin losing his mind because he knows he was this close to, you know, killing everyone. And fearing he might as well still do it if the pressure skyrockets again because now isn't only Padmé, is her, and the twins.

Stuff like Anakin still somehow getting terribly injured and burned because it was written for him, apparently.

Stuff like yay, they're on the rebellion now, yay it's...it's still hell, there's not peace. Stuff like "Hey, Anakin, Padmé, have you thought that maybe is safer if the twins grow up somewhere else away from all of this, and you know, some stability?"

That kind of stuff.

I have so many ideas and only 700 words of it written somewhere on my phone 😩

[chimcess]

Pitch Black || jjk (Prologue)

⮞ Chapter 0: Prologue Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon, Captain!Taehyung, Doctor!Jimin, Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 400+ Summary: Stranded on a barren planet lit by three suns, a group of survivors struggle to survive after their transporter crash-lands. Their situation grows dire when pilot Y/N discovers that every 22 years, an eclipse plunges the planet into darkness, unleashing swarms of flesh-eating creatures. Facing both external threats and internal tensions, the group forms a fragile alliance. As mistrust and secrets surface, Y/N's complicated dynamic with convict and murderer Jungkook intensifies, making the fight for survival against the darkness and the creatures even more perilous. A/N: When I decided to rewatch the Riddick movies and reread the comics, I never thought I'd get so inspired to write a fanfiction based off of a "what-if" scenario, but here we are. So, this story follows the main storyline in Pitch Black (I think that's pretty obvious by the title) with a pretty large twist that leads into the rest of the story that's to come. Like everything I write (I'm so sorry), this will be a massive series that's pulling from a few of my new obsessions as well as my own creative thoughts and feelings. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you guys will follow along.

In the cold stillness of his cryosleep chamber, Jungkook's thoughts flickered like static on a faulty transmission, defying the stasis meant to consume him. They said cryosleep shut down most of the brain—all but the primitive side, the animal instincts that lurked beneath reason. Maybe that explained why he was still awake when no one else was. He didn’t question it much anymore. It just was.

Transporting him with civilians had been a bold choice, one he suspected someone would regret soon enough. The faint echoes of the world beyond his chamber filtered through his sharpened senses—a faint murmuring with an Saramic lilt, chanting low and steady. Likely a holy man, heading for New Mecca. But what route would they take to get there? He played out the possibilities in his mind, trying to map the path based on the faint hum of the engines and the sense of distance stretching endlessly ahead.

Then there was the scent. Subtle, but there: sweat mixed with leather, the metallic tang of tools, and the earthy grit of worn boots. A woman, no doubt—a prospector, maybe one of those free settlers who carved out a living on the fringes of colonized space. He imagined her kind: practical, determined, stubborn as hell. And he knew one thing for certain. They never traveled the main roads.

That brought his focus back to the real problem: Taemin Lee. The so-called lawman. A brown-eyed devil with a mercenary streak and a personal agenda. Jungkook knew exactly what Lee planned to do—drag him back to slam, back to a cage. But Lee had made a critical mistake this time. He’d picked the wrong route. The long route. The ghost lane.

A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong.

And as if summoned by that thought, something did feel wrong. Subtly at first, but unmistakable. The hum of the engines wasn’t right—too uneven, like a heartbeat skipping in the dark. The muffled sounds of the ship’s systems filtered through the walls of his chamber, distorted but insistent. Alerts, maybe. Warnings. He couldn’t make out the specifics, but the tone was unmistakable: something was off.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his senses sharpening as his body fought against the enforced stillness of cryosleep. The faint shiver of vibration in the chamber walls had changed, the ship itself broadcasting unease. It was subtle, but he felt it—like prey sensing a predator in the shadows.

A long time between stops, indeed.

© chimcess, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

And It’s Like the Sky is New

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Warnings: None

Summary: “All at once, everything looks different.”

A/N: Just needed to get something out. I feel like I’m falling behind and letting people down. Dedicated to @shadowcitrine who always lets me know when I’m doing too much. 🩵

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Doin’ too much.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Daryl in the doorway, fingers busy fiddling with the tip of a bolt. You were so tired that you hadn’t even heard him come inside. “No. No, I’m not doing enough.” You disputed quietly, blowing your hair out of your face before turning back to your project, pulling the thread taut and pushing the needle through again. The prison community had grown tenfold and the kids outgrew clothes so fast. Hand-me-downs were necessary. The least you could do is hand them down with less holes.

“Not what I mean.” You heard him push himself off the frame and then his boots as he approached. His knees protested the descent to the concrete floor, but if it bothered him, he never said. “Not all this.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hand that gestured toward the projects you had scattered about: sewing, medical journals, dirty laundry for washing, and the list went on. “If you’ve got a point, Daryl, make it.” You didn’t snap at him. You were too weary for the energy that would require.

His expression remained neutral. “Doin’ plenty out here.” When he leaned in, you nearly reeled, but found you neither had the energy nor the true desire. His hand raised, his index finger tapping the middle of your forehead. “Doin’ too much in here.”

Your eyes followed his hand as he retracted it, letting it drop onto his thigh. He was right, of course. You had been thinking of everyone else for so long that you had forgotten what it even felt like to think of yourself. “Oh? What do you suggest?” You finally replied, placing the sewing on top of the pile.

One side of Daryl’s mouth lifted. “C’mon with me.”

The weather was cool, summer shifting into fall with all of its quiet and colors. The night air felt refreshing on your skin, having been cooped up for days with your projects. Your mind needed to be constantly occupied, lest you fall into the what ifs that consistently hung in the air. You’d be consumed by them, forgetting that you could be more than alive but actually still live.

The night sky was clear, stars twinkling. An entire universe was beyond the hell on earth and you couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere out there, there were other people; another planet where lives were happily moving forward. It was odd to feel jealousy toward something that may not even exist.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” You answered a little too quickly, rolling your head toward the sound of Daryl’s voice. His gaze remained on the sky.

He inhaled deeply, folding his arms behind his head. “Where’d ya go?”

“Nowhere bad.” The stars acted as sparkling magnets and pulled your eyes back toward the sky. “Mostly.” A hum resonated beside you, so deep that you could almost feel it in your own chest. “Do you ever wonder what else is out there?” Your hand came up in a lazy gesture toward the incomplete darkness with its pinpricks of celestial light.

“Nah.” He answered immediately. It was almost insulting how little care he gave the reply. “Ain’t no need when there’s still so much—good right here.”

You laughed at this, turning your head to meet his indignant glare. “What’s so good about here? There’s the threat of—of death around every corner.” Daryl’s expression never wavered, his eyes searching your face. “What’s so good, Daryl?”

His eyes narrowed before he blinked and looked upward. “Them stars. They’re good.” You choked down another laugh. “Nights like this’un. They’re good.” He continued. “Family. That’s good.” Then there was silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; simply unexpected.

“I guess you’re—”

“You.” His head lolled back toward you. “You’re a good thing.” You only managed the first chuckle of a laugh before realizing there was not even a single hint of humor in the way he gazed at you. The expression may have appeared stoic to anyone else but you—you could see the fondness just below the surface, the sincerity, the truth. Your heart leapt into a somersault when you felt his finger graze the side of your hand.

“You, uh—” You swallowed hard, bearing witness to the moonlight catching in his eyes, making them almost silver under its influence. “You’re a good thing too.” Daryl stared at you a little longer before returning his attention to the sky, simultaneously lacing his fingers through yours. You, however, couldn’t seem to look away.

You’re not a good thing, Daryl. You’re the best thing.

[midnightshindig]

ik its cliche, but enemies to lovers with cecil? remember to go easy on yourself! 😊

Cecil x Gn!Reader

I looooove enemies to readers, thank you for the request!!

this ended up being more annoying reader x annoyed Cecil BUT I still like it ^^;

Hcs under the cut!

Cecil doesn't believe in letting Talent go to waste

So when an alien humanoid spy seduces and almost takes down the GotG from the inside out, he's intrigued

But to be fair, it isn't hard to get past Rex.

Watching you disarm Rudy, Amanda, Zandale, and even Rae though? was impressive

So you ended up in his care, being slowly re-educated on Earth customs

Cecil was sure that, at the very least, you could provide good information on your home planet

What he wasn't expecting was your attempt to break out to go so well

He gets a call at like four in the morning that you've escaped your cell, and are currently awol

Shit.

What surprises him is when he sees you at a work event two weeks later, on the arm of some clueless big wig

"Ohhhhh Renold, you're soooo funny!"

He's showing you off like some pet

Cecil marches over and grabs you by the arm, dragging you into a private room at the event

"What the hell are you doing?! You escape and you're already trying to infiltrate us?" He slams you by the shoulder into the ornate wallpaper, he's trying to be intimidating

It isn't working.

You raise an eyebrow, pursing your lips at him

"Maybe I just wanted to see you <3" You wink, catching him just off guard enough for your to slip his grasp, escaping into the door next to you and out through a window.

Damn, you're good.

The next few months of Cecil's life are like this: a sick cat-and-mouse game in which you continually try different ways to espionage your way into government ranks.

Every time he personally catches you, like you want him to, and you're so quick with the comments:

"Uh oh, you caught me, you gonna lock me up?"

"Cecil! Baby it's been too long, lemme take these files and we'll get coffee sometime"

"Yknow that tie really does something for you, did you cut your hair?"

"Is that a state-issued walkie-talkie in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

it's driving him crazy.

It culminates when finally Cecil catches you again, as you're handcuffed and he's personally interrogating you

you've been getting under his skin

and he's so fucking tired of seeing you in those revealing clothes, trying to shmooze your way into international secrets.

What was your angle? What did you want? You had to know the flirting wasn't going to work on him?

Well hell, if you did you certainly didn't show it

"haiiiii <3" You smiled sweetly as Cecil walked into the room, stoic as ever

He took a seat across from you, ignoring when your heel knocked his loafer

"You're being charged with espionage and fraud, as well as failure to self-report upon arrival to Earth, and, of course, breaking out of prison."

"My my, that sounds serious!" You were fucking with him

Cecil scowled "Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!" Your awful impression made Cecil's eye twitch

"I'm being fucking serious, y/n. I can have you put away somewhere higher capacity, highest security, somewhere even you won't escape from."

You leaned forward, resting your head on your flat palms, propping onto the table "As long as I get to see you, Cecil-Weasel" you stuck your tongue out with a flirty wink

He stood up, slamming his hands on the table "DAMNIT- ugh- fuck. What." he stared you down, bubbling as he spoke "What do you want?"

You sighed, phasing through the handcuffs and walking freely around the room

He didn't know you could do that.

Could you do that the whole time? Why? Why bother with the infiltration?

"I want something to do, my home planet sent me here to assess your protectors, and we suuuuuuuck, you guys are actually kind of great" Your voice was bored, if not grated

Cecil watched as you sat on the table, crossing your legs with pizzaz

"But my boss is a dickhead and doesn't believe me, sooooo I'm stuck here until they try and invade, lose-- because our only powers are Danny fucking Phantom-- and then finally get to go back home when they fail."

You admired your nails before glancing at Cecil. "So now, I'm just an alien trying to have some fun while I'm here."

Cecil just blinked

an alien invasion? But you seemed confident they would fail spectacularly, was this part of the ploy? What were you playing at?

"So... if you could phase through things, why bother with the kiss-ass and roleplay? Surely there are more entertaining things than that." He folded his arms, choosing to pick his battles about your lack of containment.

You sighed, twirling your hand at the wrist as you spoke "Yeahhh, it's whatever. Maybe I just wanted to see you, piss you off. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're just as much of a dick as my boss, but-" you leaned back on your arms, scanning him up and down "you're pretty cute for a human."

Cecil could feel his face burn red

But he had decades of practice on keeping his composure and maintained it well

"Okay, I'll make you a deal."

"oh I love deals."

"Quiet." he sighed "You work for me--"

"Oh goodie." your dry voice cut through

"Quieeeet..." Cecil hissed, before continuing "You work for me, I give you entertaining jobs, you're on a short leash but you're not being hunted like an animal. In exchange, you get an apartment, a little bit of money, and-"

"I want you to take me for an Earth date. I've been told they're supposed to be fun, but the ones I've been on have been quite miserable." You tilted your head dryly, not a hint of sarcasm or humor in your voice

What the fuck is your deal?

"Um. Okay? So you agree."

You stand up, motioning to shake his hand, before kissing the back of it "Mhm ^^"

Cecil is a grown ass man

The head of the GDA

And here he is with a cute alien across from him drinking a frappuccino with whipped cream

God damn. He had to hand it to you, he'd been hustled.

But I mean, fuck, he couldn't even be that mad about it?

Like, okay. Yeah, you're cute and pretty, and whatever, sure.

But this is just for national security.

Him paying the check and holding your hand is just for discretion to not draw attention

Him walking you to your new apartment instead of teleporting is just to stay in character

When you give him a cheeky kiss before smiling at him and running inside your apartment, it's just to hold up pretenses for your neighbors.

Right?

But, then you demand to see him again, once for every mission you accomplish. And a sick ritual forms

He's going for the good of the world and to be as prepared for this alien invasion as possible

But he kinda enjoys the break from work

You complete a mission, and Cecil takes you out, that's the new deal

an unspoken one that quickly roots itself in both your lives

The movies, roller skating, public gardens, and all the things about Earth made it exciting.

He finds himself looking forward to these outings

You seem so fascinated with it all, so genuinely pleased to be there and to be around him

Sure, you're coy and snide and a flirt, but you're refreshingly genuine when it counts

And Cecil starts doubting if he can keep up with this

"Yknow...." you trail off, a paper pamphlet detailing the walking trail for the Bronx Zoo. "This is like our tenth date and you still haven't kissed me yet."

Cecil just about chokes on his zoo themed water from his lion shaped cup

"What."

"Yknow!" you roll your eyes and fold your arms, pamphlet tucked under your armpit "Even on my home planet you would've made a move by now, I'm starting to get offended."

Cecil's shocked "You know this is just so you'll do your job, right? Y/n this is so that you stop terrorizing and colluding with governmental officials, not because I enjoy playing high school sweethearts with you!" he's frustrated, made all the worse by the fact he is enjoying himself

You stare at him for a moment, before shrugging "Whatever man." it's harsh, almost calloused. What he said really bothered you "You don't wanna admit it, sure, fuck it."

You stomp off, and the rest of the date is tense as hell

Cecil has to grapple with what he wants to do, to like actually make a move or to keep up this infuriating charade

and fuck are you infuriating.

As you're standing against the door to your apartment, Cecil devices to just embrace the 2000s romance anime cringe of it all and kiss you

It's magical (for you) and pretty enjoyable (for him)

and when he backs up, you've got this shit eating grin on your face

cocky bitch

Cecil raises an unimpressed eyebrow, watching as you smile wider and phase through your door

he's all "okay at least that's over" before he hears the door unlock

"Come onnnn! Come in come in!"

and so he does, promptly entering your apartment for the first time

It's nice.

you've decorated it in a surprisingly mature manner, it's definitely you, but it has a charm to it

"Cmon, make yourself at home, get comfortable."

and he did

Maybe. ugh. Cecil groaned at the improbability and romcom nature of his thoughts

but maybe

ewwww okay seriously this is so fluffy and too emotional for Cecil-

his doubts cleared when you came back into the room with a coffee tray and a pack of cards

"I got you a black coffee, and I want you to teach me how to play your human card games. I see the guys at HQ play them and I want to know how"

Cecil settled into your couch with a familiar ease, taking in the scene

Maybe you weren't so bad after all