#the multiverse is vast: shenanigans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 2 months

Text

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ғᴀʟsᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,

A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕

The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.

You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.

You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.

Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.

As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"

You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"

You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."

He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"

His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."

You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"

He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."

You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."

He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."

You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."

Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."

Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"

His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."

You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"

He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."

"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"

Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."

"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"

"Not Gaius."

"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."

"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.

"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.

Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."

The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.

"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."

"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."

You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."

"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."

You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.

Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"

You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."

Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."

He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."

You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.

Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.

Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.

You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.

Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.

It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.

The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.

"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.

"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.

You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.

She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.

You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."

Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"

You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."

She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."

Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.

As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.

Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.

You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.

But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"

You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.

Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.

The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.

You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.

As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.

Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.

When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"

A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."

The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."

The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.

Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.

"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."

You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."

Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."

You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."

Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.

"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.

Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."

You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.

The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.

You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.

You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.

As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.

When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.

The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.

The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.

You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.

As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.

You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."

You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."

The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."

A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"

He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.

"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."

You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."

Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."

Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"

You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."

His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."

A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.

As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."

You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."

He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.

As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.

"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."

You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.

"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"

The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"

"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"

You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."

"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."

Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."

"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.

"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."

"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.

You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.

As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."

His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."

You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"

A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"

Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.

Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.

You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."

His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."

With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."

He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."

He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."

The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.

"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."

Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"

You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.

Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.

His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."

You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.

"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.

You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.

"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.

"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.

"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.

He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.

"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"

You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.

"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"

You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.

A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.

He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."

You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.

His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."

You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.

His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."

Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.

He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."

The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.

His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.

As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.

As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."

You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"

He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."

You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."

You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."

His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."

You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."

You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.

"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."

You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.

Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.

"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."

You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."

You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."

You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.

For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.

"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."

PART 2

3K notes · View notes

zagreusapollyon · 18 days

Text

OK but an au where Ford is the kids grandfather, and by some weird ass shenanigans they end up under the care of shermie and all that jazz.

Like, imagine how much worse that would be for Stan.

Like, these kids are the grandchildren of the twin brother he thinks has been doomed to an eternity of being lost in the multiverse, and they are quite literally the reflection of him and Ford.

Dipper is a smart boy with so much thirst for knowledge and to find secrets unknown to others, who looks at the world with an ambition unmatched in any kids his age.

Then there's Mable, a loud and kind, happy girl, an imagination so vast that baffles everyone, shining brightly like the sun as it brightens the world with light and warmth.

This two are gonna be a stab in a heart to Stan whenever he even looks at them.

Now I kinda imagine Ford sleeping with someone in college and having a kid, then his kid ends up being adopted by shermie and raised as his, so his grandchildren don't really know Ford is their grandpa.

But damn, imagine Ford coming back and finding out he's a fucking old ass bitch and a grandfather.

Also, the guilt of having a kid he didn't know about all his life, seeing his grandchildren and just realizing that "Oh shit, I wasted so many years of my life on creating that damn portal, that I forgot what having a family is like"

This has to be another level of heartbreak lol.

Also, Bill kinda liking these kids and wanting to use them as a kind of doll to create his own twisted reality where he and ford never break up.

Bill you fumbled hard pls get over it-

#gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #gravity falls au #grandpa4grunkle #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #billford #express adoption #bill trying to not fumble a baddie challenge #level: impossible #ford and mabel bonding #dipper and ford bonding #stan and ford

86 notes · View notes

madmonksandmaenads · 8 months

Text

Now, I'm not very familiar with Homestuck, but I overhear a lot of conversation about its minutia. There are lots of conversations about HS', I have heard about classpects, multiverse games, troll biology, etc, but I don't have a clear idea what the actual themes of the work are.

It's a creation myth yes? A grand narrative about the birth of a world, complete with primordial evils and children in strange lands, initiated through death to divine power. What is this met to say about our own world? Would you(hypothetical Homestuck fan) consider the work Gnostic in character? Is the takeaway here that reality is all the result of an uncaring and deeply flawed mechanical demiurge(Sburb) and orchestrated by childish and occassionaly deeply evil archons(the players)? Should we try to reach past the imperfection of this world and stop trying to engage with the rules of this cruel world and instead seek out loopholes? Or perhaps is it more Hermetic? Does it see the world as a craft of artifice, made by humans who are not perfect but aspire towards a greater good? Does it prompt the reader to create their own more perfect world? Homestuck is a massive text, it a vast communication from an artist, what is being communicated? I'll admit one of the reasons I haven't read Homestuck is I don't see it discussed as a poetical work. I want to know what makes it beautiful, about what message is straining through the it's pulpy medium. I grew up on schlocky sci-fi, the alien sex politics, the cosmic shenanigans, these are all rather pedestrian for me. I got bored of these around the same time I stopped reading Piers Anthony but I recognize Homestuck is an important modern work, and it feels baffling to me that I have no idea what its actual philosophy is. There must be more to it than titillating science fiction, and funny message logs. What is it from Homestuck that you carry with you into the trials of your day to day existence?

#homestuck #hs

175 notes · View notes

benilos · 1 year

Text

What is TCU?

Three Circuits Unending is a horror genre multiversal series mainly comprising of Creepypasta and Legend of Zelda content, containing both custom-made original content as well as canon content. Most canon content will be seen from the LOZ aspects, but otherwise the majority of the content is reimagined into an admittedly convoluted and over-filled mash up of ideas and new representations of well-known characters in both fandoms.

I grew up on Creepypasta, having found a love for the Legend of Zelda through it, due to BEN Drowned being the first Creepypasta I ever read. I started this series around 2014, while the Moon Children Arc of the BEN Drowned ARG was occurring. It has seen many versions of itself, originally known as MSATC (shorthand for The Misadventures of Scary Ari & Twitch Circuit), which was a high school mini project done by me and @awesomegoatwolfchild, however Goat is no longer involved in the series. There are a couple small cameos of their old OC Scary Ari, but she has largely been written out per Goat's request. Here and there you guys may see old school art of Scary Ari from her old designs, or even some fanart of the newest version of them according to what is on Goat's blog, but it'll be a bit sparse. Ari is still canon to TCU, but she will not appear as a full fledged character anymore unless Goat decides otherwise. We love Ari in this house though, so you guys may see some old old designs of her if Goat's okay with it XD

The Creepypasta section of the series follows the protagonist Daija, who tries to call herself "Twitch Circuit", as she traverses the previously thought fictional world of the internet phenomenon known as Creepypasta. Having been a teenager who found a dangerous comfort in the fandom of Creepypasta, she spent most of her teen years in a delusional state of chasing down "real" Creepypastas. When she was 13, her and two friends came across an abandoned house in Tennessee while she was visiting family friends, and unknowingly come across an entity that will stalk and harrass her for the years to come, eventually leading her to a place known simply as Home, where it would then take her life. 4 years later after her death, on April 23rd, 2024, the pond she was drowned in spits her back out, and her adventure begins. This part of the series is extremely heavily influenced and guided by the BEN Drowned ARG and various depictions of BEN Drowned as a character and story mechanic by itself, as most of the events are caused by that entity's guiding hands.

The Legend of Zelda section of the series follows many many protagonists, during a phenomenon known as a Barrier Event. Similar to the storyline of Hyrule Warriors, many heroes and friends from across the Eras of Hyrule, Lorule, and other worlds are pulled into a millenias long plot to break down the barriers between existence and force all worlds to crash into each other, and eventually be destroyed. Links, Zeldas, Ganondorfs, and many other iterations of various beloved Legend of Zelda characters are brought into these Events, some fighting to save their homes, others assisting in the carnage.

The series crosses over with another Creepypasta-based semi-original content series known as Soulless Computer Boy, by @scrollypoly, having multiple crossovers within the series, as the two will eventually end up as one series after the finales of both TCU and SCB, known for now as Project ZMB (whether this name will stay is up for debate).

This series does not only follow Creepypasta/Legend of Zelda content, as a vast majority of the lore and mythos used is not from either fandom, and is instead custom made to make sure everything fits a bit more cohesively (I do not manage that cohesiveness well, fair warning.)

TCU is heavily inspired by Homestuck in the way it uses timeline shenanigans and over complicated references at every turn. I personally admit this series can be very hard to handle and will stay as such in its early stages. This entire series is also 16-18+ (HB is 16+, TATA is 18+, the rating may eventually be bumped up fully to 18+ for both), as it is heavily full of sensitive themes and gore, including non-explicit depictions of rape, childhood abuse/sexual assault, other forms of assault, racism, bigotry, torture, general carnage/violence, and various creative forms of fantasy gore. It is a horror series, and I do not hold back from depicting hard-to-swallow topics, but I do my best to depict them in an appropriate ways that do not glorify or glamorize them. These topics are not meant to be taken lightly, nor should any of my writing be taken as support of the terrible things that will occur.

I hope everyone reading enjoys this series. It is a long-standing project of mine, and I haven't given up on it yet, and I don't plan to, even if it gets remade over and over. Please enjoy this adventure with me!

#skull talk #hyrule-bound #hyrule bound #tcu #three circuits unending #creepypasta #creepypasta au #legend of zelda #legend of zelda au #tata #time and time again #hb #loz #loz au #twitch circuit #i like the word carnage today it seems #ben drowned

14 notes · View notes

plasticfangtastic · 1 year

Text

Of The Same Poisonous Ilk. Ch. 2

A Homelander fanfic

A/N: will try doing weekly post for this series, thank to all those who read this, all aplicable tw are put down here if I miss any plz let me know, long chapter ahead! previous chapter here:

Sypnosis: As if God himself had decided to play a prank on him, Homelander is finally blessed with a true equal... Himself... yet not quite the same.

R18+ Violence, gore, smut, selfcest, butchlander, homewell, discussion of sexualization of minors, Child abuse, Femlander, Multiverse shenanigans, Canon Divergent, Darkfic, 3some, Bi-Lander.

Chapter two

Gasping, his throat collapsing, her hand viciously gripping at his throat, his eyes rolling back and their hands in a deadlock.

He had no clue why she snapped so quickly.

Just before with sleepy eyes and groggy lips calling after a man whose named sounded like his own, she pulled, forcing their lips together, Joan devoured him madly, desperately, groaning loudly against his lips, gripping at his hair, her hands starved after him, as his own hand cradled her cheek he felt the damp on her cheeks, that sweet moment died out, she pushed him after trying to kill him, shivering like a wounded doe.

As she calmed down Homelander watched her in awe unsure of what game this woman was playing– why had she become so upset? He could feel his lips throbbing, bruised from the intensity of her kisses and wanting more, both left gasping, she clung to the blanket covering herself as she moved towards the corner, her hair wild and her cheeks bright red.

Homelander leaned forward on his elbows, he felt it again, electricity circulating in his body, feeling her leave had left him oddly vacant. He was falling into a spell, wanting… needing… itching to touch her, a primal craving consuming his desires, they both stared at each other unable to speak yet willing, filling the dark room with nothing but quiet breaths, their heartbeats slowing together.

“Disappointed?” he jokes, wanting to calm her down.

She sniffed, cleaning the tears still staining her cheeks.

“I am sorry.” She cried looking away from him. Homelander never said it but hearing it from her felt strange as if she wasn’t made for it– I… I won’t do it again… so don’t hate me.”

“Is alright… come here…” He stretched his hand– that Jon and you?” he asked nervously, tightening his jaw.

“No!! It wasn’t like that… I thought for a second he was still alive…”

She got closer to him, trembling horribly, afraid he would bite this time around, but Homelander didn’t do such thing, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling that electricity once more, her body fit so neatly against his own, her smell intoxicating– smelling of oats, milk and sunflowers like himself. Her body just the right temperature, her skin made his own crawl, touching her was the finest velvet, her hands just as soft as his own, she sobbed under his gentle embrace.

She held him as she cried lighty, it all remained a mystery to him– one he wanted to unravel. He had only fantasized about hugging himself as a small child…but receiving it now… it felt soothing… without the cringe and shame, this wasn’t that disgusting experience with Doppelganger either, this was him in a way– just better… She was a beautiful new thing, she was real and dependant of him. John and Joan felt the warmth of each other resting in the bed, falling asleep in each other's arms. She slept so soundly, his heart sounded just like Jon’s, in her dreams she saw him, on top of a big rock chewing on jerky, the sun hiding behind him as he watched the vast empty desert, no matter how much she wanted to sit by his side, her legs wouldn’t move.

Homelander awoke, he usually woke at the crack of dawn but for once he overslept, looking down to find the woman still wrapping him, he had slept in his suit which was unheard of but it was a fair trade-off… he had never slept holding another person for an entire night. Looking at this sweet thing he thought of himself at that age, Maeve would make love to him but she would be gone by morning, Madelyn never stayed for longer than an hour or two if he was lucky but now he had the full experience and he didn’t just felt spoiled– he felt light as he squeezed this coiled body around him, surprised that even his little Homie hadn’t ruined the moment, watching her in his arms as she held for dear life at his body– he only found comfort and nothing else, fixated with the song of her heartbeat, gently pushing her finding himself whining as he lets her go, watching her sleep soundly, he brushed her soft hair aside tucking her in.

He had never once felt this relaxed in the morning– not without sex being involved somehow of course. He caressed her cheek in and let her sleep, he had one mission and that was to look at the contents of that phone.

Ashley bites at her nails, unsure of what to do, the rest of The Seven, Stan Edgar, the head of Crisis management and Dr. Park awaited for Homelander who was unusually late, the prospect that that female had killed him while they slept was being discussed psychically– and then the doors tragically opened up.

“Good morning! I see we’re having an important meeting” He said with genuine glee.

“I texted you three times this morning, sir.” Ashley whispered, taking her place by his shadow– we had one of analytics cracked her phone.”

“Could’ve just asked me– we got the same fingerprint.” he laughs lightly as he heads for his spot catchign Dr. park's attention–"So what brings such illustrious faces this morning.”

Stan raises his eyebrow, gesturing to the head of Crisis management.

“As Dr. Park already briefed the rest of your team, it has come to our attention that our surprise visitors are from another dimension and such ramifications well… long story short You and the rest of the Seven must ensure that our two visitors remain inside the tower, and away from the public.”

“So you invited Starlight?” Homelander chuckles– give it five seconds before she’s texting her boytoy at the FBSA!”

“I’m well aware of the irony… but in the event she does get out or Leaper… it would be a good idea to have a backup– as I was informed it appears that she’s your equal in a fight.”

He scoffs at the idea, taking a seat at the helm.

“If they can’t kill me what makes you think–

“You are to do whatever it takes to take her down, understood.”

Homelander said nothing, feeling the heavy stare of his boss, he would entertain him but he wouldn’t– Joan was worth something to him, there was only one of him, only one original Homelander... but afterall God had made Eve out of Adam's rib, he wouldn't insult the lesser God by throwing away a gift to his most perfect creation.

Starlight cleared her throat trying to calm the flames about to ignite.

“I’m certain that our guest might be reasonable and understanding– I mean she hasn’t attacked since yesterday, no?”

Homelander looked at the young blonde and bitterly nodded, Starlight could only hope this woman could kill their Homelander, in that fight she would put all her bets on her.

“She’s still asleep in my penthouse…” His ear picked the light snoring.

The older man looked rough, muscular and no nonsense, he turned the TV screens on-- each revealing their own stories.

Three stills of Homelander, of three versions of him– A tired one covered in scars and worn down by the sun trying to light a cigarette, a young man with longer hair holding the bottom half of a jaw, and a shirtless man, more muscle than body fat, covered in in a blue glowing liquid, his eyes glowing the same color.

Dr. park took to his side, touching his tablet.

“I don’t need to explain that this footage is highly sensitive– I was frankly blown away if I’m honest”

He looked far too eager.

“We couldn’t access any of her social media accounts… well their versions of them… seems MySpace, Friendster and Douyin are the main sites, she also has a LINEs account, thus we were able to read her conversation currently we have someone from analytics transcribing”

A screen showed a snipped between Homelander and a man named J with a love heart emoji”

“Joan darling you will do the interview… is that or you post an apology video”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!!”

“We know and we stand behind you, yet we can lose any more points– do you want people not to love you anymore?”

“alright…”

–… but her gallery well” He takes a deep breath throwing rapid looks at the head of the Seven, revealing there were hundreds and hundreds of Videos and thousands of pictures– our visitor decided to vlog her entire journey, taking multiple daily blogs and stopping only until she could find where or how to charge her phone based on the dates and breaks, I had one of the interns select a few highlight-reels but there’s no doubt this girl is… well…” He looks at Homelander feeling his throat shrink– a Homelander.”

Dr. Park fumbled a bit on the screen.

“We analyzed several of her videos and pictures to determine if they were some high-quality Deep Fakes but all videos came out as real” he said nervously.

One screen flipped thru different photos of Homelander, her in multiple Vough branded events, selfies at movie openings, smiling with Stan Edgar, a version of him that seemed friendly with her and a man that looked vaguely familiar to Homelander in a way he couldn't pinpoint, there were plenty of selfies advertising a make-up and skincare brand called “Homegirl”, a few risque poses here and there that made him blush and angry that he could hear the other men in the room react, for all purposes Homelander was no different than a social media influencer, one photo peeved at the supe, just a selfie with a pair of streamers and a cute sign saying thank you for 300 million Youtube subscribers alongside a diamond plaque.

“The videos were the most insightful.” he cleared his throat– she had kept quite extensive records… her phone battery life last 46 hours on one charge– this technology could revolutionize the world! we are certainly already copying for next year’s V-flip model” He said giddily.

Homelander leaned closer, all eyes focused on the screen. Annie already trying to figure out how she would tell Butcher that his worst nightmare had happened, Maeve clung to hope that this girl wasn’t anything like her ex and the other three were counting the seconds before the meeting would abruptly end, except for Noir who wasn’t entirely sure what was happening as this girl wasn’t Homelander… his only worry is that he had a Yoga class to attend and he might be late now– looking at those picture this person was far more sociable than his best friend.

The video played, Lady Homelander fixed her hair in an unseen mirror stuck in a grand room.

L.E.D lights glew soft blues, a large king size bed peek from the side and behind her a futuristic night sky, a handful of plants decorated a corner and a machine flew around spritzing the plants.

“Hi Guys!! Dunno when I'm posting this but it seems I'm in a little pickle…”she forced a smile but it broke quickly–… I dunno when I’ll be able to talk to you guys again, but it seems I’m in the future?” She took her phone and turned the camera around to the window. It was New York but miles taller, vehicles flew on invisible roads, roofs and balconies covered in greens and massive billboards projected themselves in glorious technicolor– I think I’m going to go insane… I’ve been here for three days and no sign of Leaper… I might be trapped here but I can feel him still here. I have to believe it!.”

The video cut to another scene, this time of Ashley– present one straightened herself unable to believe that in another dimension she would still be trapped in hell.

But this Ashley seemed… sexy, she had an air of confident and dreamy eyes to her, her make up metallic and perfect, her hair long and luscious, and her skin glowing, in her hand a glass of wine, she dressed in a intricate chiffon gown and pearls.

“So tell my audience a bit about yourself…” The Homelander voice whispered.

“I’m Wednesday. And I’ve been Wednesday for over ten years, used to be Monday but now am hump day– thank god! couldn't stand being Monday.” she said with a sultry tone– Monday always has to deal with his bad mood, best days are moi, Thursday and Saturday… altho I don’t like Saturday, she thinks we can be friends.” she seemed grossed out at the thought.

“You guys aren’t friends?”

“We don’t talk to each other outside the groupchat– y’know we ain't gonna let each other serve him the same meal twice, but we ain’t actually talking– it just makes things easier.”

“In what way?” She pressed– "I mean if all of you are his wives…”

“So we should be besties and bake pies together?” Ashley sounded disgusted– look I see him once a week, I get all I want, I live in a grand apartment and I haven’t aged a single day since he infected me with the V-Virus, can you believe I am sixty this year?” she laughed then took a sip of her ‘wine’.

“So it makes you happy?” She sounded sad.

“Why wouldn’t she?” That familiar voice creeped behind her, she turned the camera finding a suited man untying his blue tie by the entrance of the living room, Homelander didn’t expect the house to look like a scene from blade runner meets dune, walls so tall and the sepia lights coloured the skin of his mirror image a uneasy shade, this man younger perpetually trapped in his mid twenties at the latest, his hair swooped to the side and longer, the camera close enough to catch the sickly paleness of his skin behind the yellow tint and bright red eyes-- but not so by light but on their own, Ashley moved towards Homelander– hello my love, work finished early today… missed you.”

“Oh sweetie I missed you” She had jumped to his side wrapping her arms around his shoulders– come here tiger.” she chuckled into his lips.

Ashley eyes widen as sexy Ashley kissed her Homelander, and had the camera lingered a second longer Homelander might’ve puked as the kiss was more than just passionate, the two basically humping on sight, nobody dared say a thing– a new video played, before the barf bags were distributed.

“Six wives? What’s the logic there Jonathan?” her voice annoyed.

“Sunday is a day of rest… I’m just a man I would die if I don't get some ‘me’ time” He chuckled, the young man sat in a thick leather armchair, plants around him and some marble statues to his side, everybody could’ve sworn it was the Venus de milo, a lot of paintings from the renaissance period adorned his presence- why does it bother you?”

He sounded younger, everything about him felt strange, like peeking into a fabricated memory, his skin had no wrinkles or hard lines but it was him… and it shouldn’t.

“Their names” she grumbled- the lack of them”

“Is easier than remembering their names” He smiled devilishly– is a joke don’t shoot. They don’t want to know each other… ask them! I just follow what my lovers like” he laughed lifting his hands defensively.

“Is hard to believe you and I are the same person… we don’t share anything.” she sounded exasperated.

“We share one thing and that's we are apex predators… you think of them as mud and I see cattle” She paced the camera to the dehydrated corpse by her foot– I get quite hungry after six days with my wives… and just for the record I do know their names… Victoria, Margaret, Ashleigh, Rebekah, Keneth and Kumiko… used to have a Klara and a Serge but they broke our rules.” He looked saddened by his own words.

He stood up picking up the dead corpse with ease, lifting its head to the gaping wound on his neck, he placed his empty cup beneath the wound watching a few drops fall.

“I miss Serge… his veal tasted like the sun kissing my skin once more.” Annie's mouth dropped– but I love them…”

“Do You? Or are you filling the empty void with sex?” The girl stood up and led the camera thru the art gallery into a massive painting of a young girl no more than 16 or 17, long wavy blonde hair, pale blue eyes and thin lips, on top of a cream marble fireplace, Homelander leaned closer he couldn’t mistake that teen for anybody else but Madelyn, but how?– or you just miss her?”

“Maybe I am still a little bit human… or not.” The man teleported beside her, never making a peep– She turned me… guess I still love her in a way.

“And she left you so you decided to get six wives to replace her?”

He chuckled, taking a silver box from a set of five by the fireplace, he opened the latch to reveal a beating heart, dried but it beat weakly, alive, the second the light touched it, strange strands made of sticky flesh began chasing after Joan, pale pink threads twirling and winding into a bleeding and sickly primitive appendage, growing rapidly, white fragments growing inside the threads, doubling in size every second it gets closer.

“She’s still here” he shut the box and the muscle wilted into a fine red dust– she’s not very talkative these days.”

“Can we see somebody else!!?” Homelander squirmed in his seat, feeling his cheeks reddened.

“Well is definitely not something of this world” Stan said, not hiding the sickly feeling in his stomach– but I was told there were two other subjects.”

The Deep had passed out with open eyes, the thought of being Homelander “wife” was horrific and had completely ignored the horror scene afterwards but A-Train nudged at him with a shit eating grin, he just watched the trio with a smile so big he would happily die.

The screen had paused on a woman that Homelander recognized, Rebecca… Ryan's mother-- Jonathan’s Rebekah. She looked so beautiful as she entered the grand room carrying a small infant in her arms wrapped in pink.

The woman unfazed at the metal box in her husband’s hand.

The man began to picture his funeral, as he went to subject number two, he had already ordered the death of the analytics members who’ve seen this video.

The video played and this man looked far more exhausted than Homelander could’ve imagine, it almost looked like make up on him– he wore a Hawaiian shirt, his arm slightly muscular and a growing beard shadowed his face, his hair just growing from a recent buzz cut and the circles on his eyes inmensed as he made waffles.

“Youse gonna wear that shit all day?” he took a long puff of his cigarette– I got you clothes for a reason, mate.”

“Yeah! I just got these washed and I like the feeling… Either way, come on! give me content, you can just be an annoying hardass all the time! I’ll get demonetized!”

“You also want me to to put on a fucking monkey suit and dance like a fucking wanker?” His accent was so painfully Australian– now do ya want two or three for brekky?”

“One”

“Chookie” He slap her plate with three waffles– you need to eat…now take the fucking suit off.”

Her plate was jammed packed with waffles, bacon sausages and eggs, and she could do nothing as he slathered the bitch in maple syrup.

“Milo or coffee?”

“Milk is fine.”

That he didn’t argue, The man served a second plate and the camera poorly followed to the figure seating next to him, Annie’s mouth dropped soon followed by Homelander.

Sitting beside her was Butcher… slightly younger, his skin beaming, and his hair nicely combed in a similar fashion to Homelander’s, his face clean shaved and not a scar adorned his features, he looked admittedly handsome– had he not worn Homelander’s suit he wouldn’t find this so disturbing, he looked just like the first time they’ve met all those christmases ago, Homelander bit his cheek anxiously.

From the angle they could see his cape draped over his shoulders, a thick chain dangled on his chest, and a detailed eagle sculpture adorned his shoulder, red gloves sat by the breakfast table dividing Joan and the impostor.

She recorded him eating as he moaned on that first bite.

“Aww Cyanide this time! so tingly.” He said in a sweetened voice– surprise you hadn’t tried it before Butcher, darling.”

Johnny gave a defeated sigh and moved to the fridge, writing cyanide on a whiteboard.

“Nathan is going to be so disappointed…” he mumbled.

“So how long have you two been doing this… thing?” she sounded uncomfortable.

“Two years. Easier to kill the cunt if I kept him around… dunno why it had to be in my fucking apartment!!”

“Ryann’s school is closer to your place.”

As if on queue a young girl shouted from across the house, a little girl no more than 8 ran into the kitchen with her hair in messy pigtails.

“Daddy, I can't find my shoes!!”

Maeve and Annie exchanged panic looks, and Dr. Park sweating a litre under his jacket.

“Did ya check the laundry?” he said in a calm voice trying not to laugh at the mess on her hair– did dad try to do your hair again?”

“Hey she’s wiggly” Butcher said with a lightest english accent he could muster.

“He just sucks!” She giggled playfully.

“He's a stubby short of a six pack actually” both chuckle together.

This was Ryan, the face too similar not to be him, her hair a dark red but her eyes the same shape but black eyes. That expression made his chest tightened as he watched his copy calmly fixing the girl's hair as she nodded, the camera came back to Not-Butcher.

Homelander could do the math, this was Maeve's and Butcher's Ryan, Joan had said so last night and now he saw the product.

This one seemed so content too, both men stayed quiet until the girl was out of the room.

“So you two are raising the kid together while you let him figure out how to kill you?”

“Shocker I know!” he cleans his hand and steals a waffle off Joan’s plate– look one day me and the bin chicken over 'ere realize that we both cared about the kid, so begrudgingly we sat one arvo and agreed to this… altho this cunt over here thinks I'm his maid!”

“Last time I tried cooking you hit me with a rolling pin over some eggs!”

“You calcified them!”

The man smiled behind his hand as he took his cigarrete back into his mouth, Joan did nothing to stop the cameras as the fake-Homelander stood up after a couple bites, wrapping his arms on the shorter man, forcing a kiss on his temple and lips as the man stabbed at his neck with a dirty kitchen knife– to no success.

“I’ll be late today, Daddy” he said shamelessly.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you Park” Homelander's voice had no humor to it, his eyes glowing so bright the heat made Maeve's hair frizz out.

“Ah… what happens next!” he sounded panicked– just wait!!.”

As Johnny kissed the bastard back the air was vacuumed out the room, a fat persian cat clawed at the floorboards yowling, Johnny shouted “Horror!” and the fake-Homelander moved to catch the feline as the house was sucked into a vortex, standing before the vortex was Leaper, his hair messy and his expression dazed and angry, he made a small size portal by crossing his fingers together into Ryann’s bedroom her stuff toys spat back at the trio, the girl was flung straight into the mayor vortex, as Leaper grinned.

“Told ya I’ll get even you cheap fucking whore!” He jumped into the hole and before Fake-Homelander could say a thing the portal closed after him.

“This Leaper can still create portals, it seems he needs to make a formation with his hands to activate his powers– but it might just be a quirk, it is likely that once our guest wakes up he might be able to escape anywhere in New York or further” He said, sweating buckets.

He still destroyed the TV screen, causing everybody to get on edge.

“You think you can humiliate me?” he growled, red light clinging in his eyes.

“I don’t think that was Dr. Park's intention, Homelander” Stan said– his scientific curiosity got the best of him and I am certain that this situation won’t repeat itself, right?” He said in his trademark humorless tone– it’s also not you, I think everybody here can state that that man is merely a look-alike” Stan raised his hand towards his temple.

"Don't really look like you, sir!" Deep butted in-- he's balding and you have great hair, Homelander!"

"Couldn't tell, he's australian! like what the fuck!? right?" Said Ashley almost in a panic.

"He's gay tho" Maeve risked it staring at Annie as she died alive-- terrible taste in men too."

Homelander grumble, stroking his tired eyes.

“Sorry I had my assistant make the compilation, she must’ve made the mistake! She’ll be disposed of immediately!!” he blurted.

“I’ll do it myself” Homelander grumbled and the man whispered into the ear of the head of crisis management who wrote the name down and slipped it into Homelander’s hand.

The video had continued to play on the screen beside it unnoticed.

until shouting began.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!!??” His voice echoed in a run down building– "Do you have any idea whatchu did, Pendejo!!?”

The man was unseen but the camera got closer struggling to focus, catching the young man in front of him with more clarity. It was A-Train wearing a military uniform, a light blue scarf wrapped around his neck, his vest heavy and his gun resting before him, the man bit at his lip trying to hold back his emotions.

“You!” The man came out of obscurity, he wore a similar uniform, his sleeves rolled up pointing at him with small dark red gloves– I should kill you!”

The shit eating grin was spat back at A-Train from the rest of the room.

“Jon… Colonel, sir. I had to do it, otherwise those people would ‘ave died!”

“I Know you did the right thing!!” He spat back with a trembling hand– But you should’ve called for me!! God dammit Reggie– I made a promise to your brother! Don’t you dare make me break that promise!!” He cried catching the younger man forcing him closer– I promised I would bring you home… You could’ve died, Reggie… I can’t lose you man! I can’t lose another one of my brothers!”

He sobbed softly, trembling against the younger guy.

“I didn’t want you to die, Colonel… There’s no future for us if you ain’t around” he said stifling his tears, returning his hug.

“You’re too young to care about my future!!” he shouted back behind tears– "this war doesn’t need to lose anymore people, much less humanity’s future!”

He held the young man’s face, forcing him to look straight into his deep blue eyes.

“Don’t ever do that without me!” He said holding back a sob– thank you for saving those people, you did the right thing… those families are still together because of you, but had you failed…” He pushed him back into his arms– I don’t think I could've ever faced Nathaniel, I couldn’t face the rest of our squad.”

“Colonel.”

“My life belongs to all of you, is not precious. Is not like yours or the rest of y'all that’s the weight of being a leader. I will protect you.” he said firmly as the afternoon sun burned thru the cracks of the abandoned building.

“Jesus what a cry-baby” Homelander said with great indignation.

To the rest of the room, whose ears had picked up with great interest, watching this was as if they were seeing an oscar winner contender, if he could pull off that charade in front of them they would buy him the ballot votes themselves, but their eyes were glued to the screen trying to figure out what creature that was, to come to terms that there was a version of him that appear to be made good and they’d drawn the shit end of the stick.

The video cut abruptly to a new scene, Homelander seemed more disgusted at this overly dramatic display of brotherly love than the prior acts of homosexual behaviors while the rest of the room dream of a game of switcheroo– the scene was of Jon. Maeve mouth dropped slightly as she caught a glimpse of the tall man, he was bulky, pure muscle, maybe 6’2’’ or 6’ 3’’at least– that or A-Train was short as fuck in that universe. He had a charming genuine smile, with messy blonde hair, a patchy coloured beard decorated his sharpened jaw, and his arms qualified as weapons with how big and beefy they were.

His cheeks sunburn and his smile bright enough to light up a baseball stadium.

He laughed earnestly as an older black man spoke to him.

“So that’s what actually happened.” Said the black man.

“Que la Virgencita tenga piedad contigo, Earving.” Jon replied, shaking his head with a giggle still caught in his tongue– Dunno what am going to do with you uncle, but sure as hell am glad my mami ain’t around to hear you.”

“Grace loves me, my boy.” he snorts– "should've seen her back at her age” he pointed at the camera woman.

Homelander wished he was alone, just to hear Black Noir once more, his friend barely registered the scene, just staring at the unscarred face, his voice lively, and his hair all there, he was aged maybe twenty years older than the young man beside him on screen, but he had an unusual youthfulness to him.

Homelander relaxed transfixed on the interaction.

“So how did you get a medal of honor?”

“A ship holding refugees was ambushed. I had only gotten the V-Serum two months prior but in that moment I suddenly learned how to fly and well, long story short… I was left bruised but not a single person was lost that day.”

She kept the camera still on him, making sure to frame his biceps, the camera occasionally flickering lower, unsubtle voyeuristic at the man’s body as she “struggled” to keep the pace, not that his army rags helped with modesty, they were tight beneath that vest, a gun strapped to his hip.

“You care a lot about people?”

“I was given these powers to help people, don’t get to be selfish anymore– all I want is to make sure no kid grows up without their loved ones… I lost my sister in one of the attacks, left me two kids, and I can’t look at their faces while knowing the monsters that took her are still free and hurting people, not when I got these powers, if I had yours I could’ve ended this myself, I am sure of that.”

He sounded so bitterly wounded, Joan just let the camera linger on his eyes.

“Now with you around we can save more people! and I’ll do anything I can to help you find a way home as a thank you, Te lo prometo.”

She had blushed behind the camera as his hand petted her hair, freezing under his gruff hands.

“So what’s with the spanish?” Joan asked nervously– aren’t we American? Or do you just like speaking spanish?”

“I’m Mexican, silly” he said, thickening his accent jokingly– Well technically my parents are Americans hence why I sound American, but I was born and Raised in el De Efe, then left to the US when I turned eighteen.” He grinned– I wanted to go to the same army university as my dad, and I joined the army, served for twenty years and then this invasion started– by then borders began to mean very little… they needed bodies on the field, this whole army is composed of everybody still walking after those monsters came and took it all” He said angryly– Still a beaner tho”

She had ignored most of that.

“You had parents?”

“You don’t?”

“no…” Joan said quietly– I…”

“I’m so sorry…” he stopped walking, turning to face her, instinctively putting his hand on her shoulder with a deeply apologetic look on his face, something truly unseen in this boardroom– It couldn’t’ve been easy… my dad him and my mom were engaged when they made me– one night my dad went to get dinner and never came back. My mom learned the morning after that a drunk driver killed him… my dad was army and my mom worked for the government, she got a job at the mexican embassy because it paid well and my grandpa didn’t want anything to do with my mom” He said sadly– had a stepdad but all he did was drop my sister and that’s it.”

“You close to your mom?” She asked meekly, feeling safe and small under his grip, her hand trembling slightly.

“Close? This boy calls his momma everyday” Earving blurts– is a miracle she isn’t here to tuck him to bed.”

“Uncle!”

The group walked in a destroyed city, smoke and ash permeated in the air, when the camera caught something strange, from a distance a beast roared from on top a cracked building, it was beautiful and awful– coated in pearlescent skin, horns and bone shaped its head like an orchid, it’s eyes small but plenty, its body slim but large, it was a dragon with wings twice its size, its mouth larger ripping into its throat as its chest illuminated and puffed, Jon eyes widen ordering everybody to take cover, as he took flight.

The alien dragon spat a killer lazer only stopped at the projectile man took to its throat.

Small creatures emerged, walking on leathery wing stilts, their markings gray and brown, they moved fast and hop– they were blood-thirsty, launching themselves in groups at every slow body on their path.

She tucked her phone in her tits, the last thing the camera took was Joan laser slicing the aliens.

“This is the last world that our guest visited… if she’s mistaken” Dr. Park let an image on screen linger, one of the alien beings corpse, it was bigger than a human, its head short but its appearance resembled a Tupuxuara, Jon opened its mouth to show rows of sharpened fangs and a bright glowing green tongue.

“These ones are foot soldiers, the big ones are tanks, there’s like 3 other types besides the actual brains.” Jon said, the man cleaned his hand– they would rather send these abused creatures than face us. I feel bad for these animals” His voice quivers– I don't think they’ve had a choice. It is not their fault… they shouldn’t be here… it should be those monsters fighting us” He turned the head to reveal a metal panel sticking out from healing skin around a peeled skull.

“We should kill him” The Deep spoke– I mean we might not be able to contain them.”

He stated the obvious while pointing at the alien, which was somethign to process later, the universe now seeemd so big to the fish talker.

Homelander leaned back.

“If she stays here then there would be two of me” That was also a terrible outcome, aliens seemed like the sensible decision– we don’t know if our Super Villain could actually bring a horde of alien dragons to New York” he caught himself there thinking of how stupid but awesome it sounded– he obviously resents Joan”

Ashley cleared her throat.

“She’s marketable” Ashley said coldly– nobody gets to 300 millions subscribers without being charismatic, her camera work is impressive for being done with a phone, her selfie game is off the charts, she’s young, hot and has A-list powers… those tits will fly themselves off the shelves`` Even Stan had Ashley’s attention– A long lost sister… maybe your father had an affair or a secret family… we could make her…” She sheepishly looked at Homelander– your side-kick. Think of this: two siblings separated by a cruel joke of fate, suddenly reunited after spending years hiding her powers and then one day she comes to America in search of her long lost brother who just happens to be not just any Supe, but the greatest Superhero in the world!”

“Side-kick?”

Homelander scoffed at the idea then paused looking back at the screen.

He wanted to sit alone, to watch all the videos and paint a better picture of this woman, of those versions of him.

They all talked but all he saw was that man, who looked too perfect, he didn’t need a padded suit, painting greek sculture’s green with envy, his smile so big, so pretty, so strange, he was the true uncanny staring back at him, and that woman who was him, had cried after him, this is the body they had wanted of him, the personality the whole country thought he had, this was how the world thought Homelander was, if he was here instead of Joan, he would kill him, he wanted to rip his face off, to wear his face... they would love him if he looked like that, the suit so baggy around his body as he stared at that roided abomination.

He found himself taking the tablet off Dr. Park, not knowing when he had stood up, speeding through the video until one video caught his attention.

Some bonfire party, Joan wrapped around Jon’s arms dancing gleefully, somebody else held the camera, as she hid her blush and smiled awkwardly as the man taught her the moves, some Bobby Pollido classic played in the background.

He stood there until the screen cracked around his thumb.

#Homelander #butchlander #personal #the boys amazon #homelander fanfic #my fic tag #of the same poisonous ilk.#butchlander and homewell stuff on the next chapter UwU #John Butcher is basically just Sheriff Hood in a hawain shirt #Chadlander just picture antony if he had played captain american and vampire homelander just him at 20 with long hair #can wait to deliver the smut #light butchlander on this fic tho

9 notes · View notes

siremasterlawrence · 2 years

Text

One Universe: Captain America World Most Wanted.

Following my first jolly journey into the vast world of the multiverse I enslave Superman with a possession style like unseen before in a court room for the world to see. What is I the world now known as The Evil Descent of The Man of Steel.

I foresaw all of this happening as I planned for many years except for the one minor act I miscalculated. That Captain America could be on my tale you see someone creates a time travel device to allow him access to my realm.

Clearly it is news for the world to see that all other variants of Super pussy are dead for the longterm. Saving one is not an action I deign to suggest due to the fact it cannot and will never change what had occurred.

Time remnants aside the suddenly glows out of the dark a strange figure appears in the back. His presence not as strong as The Man go steel but still leaves a quake under him.

He is unleashing some insane parkour with his body flipping over every area till he land in front of me. The man stay in darkness his body shifting into the light.

“Well…well….well it’s about time my dear Cap I have been awaiting your arrive with much anticipation.” I reply ignoring him in all my glory.

—-

“Wipe that mischievous smirk off of your face now. I will not stand for your insane shenanigans again.” He demands pointing at me.

“Right? Glad to see you drop this patriotic onesie uniform do yours it is gag worthy. You look like your own man now.” I add.

“No amount of small talk will distract me from my cause, and you can quite the false sincerity while you are at it.” He quipped.

“Find! I ruin refuse to be civil about it I will

give you a list of terms if your surrender.” I state.

“My surrender? This is not battle ground for a war, I do not surrender and my mission is far from over.” He chants.

“God! You are so aggravatingly hot! Do you know that my friend? Your stubborn streak turns me on” I say flipping the switch on as the spotlight lowers to his face.

The spotlight erupts in all consuming light onto his massive form, I slip out of the room into glass protector with reinforced steel to boot.

“Poor Captain America! I feel sorry for you” the speaker blows my voice in a boom.

“Get our from there and face me” he calls out to me.

“Don’t worry you won’t be alone soon enough”

“What is new fangle contraption?” He yells as space opens stretching under him to his feet slip under and he falls into the pod.

“It will be well worth it Capsickle” I shout the watch in amazement at my device getting to work with hollow projectiles inserting into his forehead.

It’s a shame Cap wakes up laid on a bed in the middle of nowhere his eyes flutter open to a new world. His hand slowly lifts from the fog.

“What am I doing here? I was about to take down Blue Haven? Right” he thinks out loud.

“No! You work for him still with the foolish nightmare I see.” A projection appears.

“Where am I?” He ask curiously,

“Think Captain America! Why are you here?”

“To save Blue Have, I am his servant”

Captain America’s mind adjust quickly he is suiting up into his armor picking up these newly inventive shield I built with slide in compartments.

“These new shields can be united into one oval piece, two separate ones, and also can fashion for combat weapon.”

“All purpose, I see, and I most be going”

“Oh Master! I found you! Thank you for what you did breaking me free.”

“Naturally! Together again you, me and Superman”

“Mwahahahahaha.”

The end

#Captain America #chris evans #Evil Captain America #Evil Cap #lawrence’s stable #hypnosis #hypno submission #possession #one universe

28 notes · View notes

kiwibirdlafayette · 2 years

Text

Its Gays on A Boat! (working title)

There's a multiversal threat, and theres only one group of idiots that can stop it! Its taking out the S1 Mianite world and its comin for the rest of the universes in the vast SMP Multiverse o nooo

Mianite spin off pitch; Post DSMP; canon divergent. uhh fills in what Sonja was up to during Isles and after the fact. mostly just random ideas i had i cant write prose for shit

A few years after S2 Sonja and Wag get kinda left behind. Tom returns to Astrakheins with Alice to find himself, Jordan depressedly goes off to become a pirate, Tucker leaves the universe to pursue other things

The two of them end up gettin into more powerful magics outta boredom (which Martha doesnt really like all that much) and in her explorations, Sonja stumbles upon the idea of necromancy. i dont have it fleshed out but. she talks to Philza (whos in the S1 world with Techno, pre-SMP Earth) who introduces her to Kristen. exploration of Capsizes limbo and basically she brings back Capsize

Canonically SMPEarth takes place right before Isles. and uhh While Jordan and Tom have reunited when Martha and Alice send the two back in time to investigate x thing idk i didnt finish the series yet (Mianitian Isles) Sonja is kinda just tryna help Capsize find herself again bc she didnt come back right (big ol memory issues). Post Isles Tom ends up on their boat with no idea where Jordan went (spoiler: bro ended up in the End of the DSMP, pulled there by XD) Jordan gets involved with the DSMP Syndicate bc of Phil and Techno

((theres a gap in story here but tldr; before the nuclear bomb that resets the server goes off, the trio find Jordan and take him and Tubbo- maybe also Ranboo and Michael- onto the boat and they fuck off to.... somewhere. Phil and Techno have their own way out i personally like the Syndicate ending Phil wrote i dont wanna mess with it))

A lot of it kinda focuses on the four reconnecting and repairing their faults of the past and a continuation of this multiversal threat that Jordan was investigating on the DSMP which i cant really explain yet. basically think world historian but a lot worse with quintessence stuff

like Jordan trying to make it up to a Capsize for how he treated her, but who doesn't remember him that well, Jordan reconnecting with his son that he basically had to abandon when the Realm of Mianite was falling apart, the tension between Sonja and Tom, where Sonja has kinda been Capsize's friend all this time while he was gone and regretting not being around, Tom helping Capsize through this revival state relating his own experience where he cant remember the ghosts of his past life all that well- and more!

also shenanigans. tons of mianite-style silly shenanigans cause we love some absolute 180 contrast in these damn things

other maybe plot points

Furia. yea theyre back

redbeard coping with the fact his sister is back. havent decided how much she remembers of him for angst reasons >:]

if i stick to ranboos canon ending for their character, them finding ranboo in the nether at some point

tom really leaning into the godhood of bein mecha dianite

meeting their origins alts from starborne kingdom of dianite when the timelines start to get fucky and blended together

motanite returns, and most of the Ruxomar Alts (including Spark whos been in the vast expanse with S2Ianite and comes back to roast Jordan)

Waglington. just waglington.

ok thats it for now. ill take questions i guess i know its very disorganized bc im still writing OSMP stuff and im tryna to not do two at once

23 notes · View notes

blupengu · 10 months

Text

Oh… my god… I’ve been emotionally devastated by Le Salut 😂

Rambling and spoilers under the cut as usual! Still haven’t done any of the salvation ends though so no worries about those, not sure if I’ll make one post for all of them or reblog my individual posts from each route lmao

Wow this route was CHONKY Jesus! I guess my biggest initial thoughts after playing are:

1) I am boo boo the fool… cannot believe we were betrayed by Dahut like that… the signs were there but I dismissed because he was best (adult) boy and I loved him… to quote my other post: “Any time Dahut shows up now I’m like OH THANK GOD someone who doesn’t need therapy” 🤡 never before have I been so utterly devastated by a character’s betrayal 💀

And 2) Ankou being Adolphe punched me in the gut, stole my purse, and kicked my dog, I was thinking there had to be time travel or multiverse shenanigans but not like that… (I love Ankou but tbh Adolphe is just kinda, meh to me? So I’m conflicted…) Though the real kicker was the fact that HE WAS AMERICAN THIS WHOLE TIME HELL, YEAH USA!! USA!! USA!! 🔫 (LOL sorry jkjk… but no really when he pulled out a fucking gun I busted out laughing, bitch why did you not use this earlier 😂)

But anyways, back to the route itself! I very much loved the character interactions we got with Ceres, Adolphe, and Ankou! Very cute, very wholesome, and Ankou in lounge wear…? *chef’s kiss* 👀 Although this is when I noticed that they both had such shiny blue earrings… maybe in my heart I knew all along… I also still love the friendship between Nadia and Dahut… 😔 and Ankou meeting Yves was so sweet!(even though knowing the truth now makes it… oof in hindsight) but good to know we all support Yves being with Ceres 😂

This route kinda turned me off Salome though? Like yandere tendencies aside, in every other route she was just the loving, maybe a bit overprotective milf (yeah I said it fight me) with a complicated and tragic past… but damn really was not a fan of her actually being the queen and Dahut’s mom. Kinda mad she killed him in the end 😬 (also, my god the teenage pregnancies must be wild in this country)

Also I am SO. SICK. OF CAPUCINE!! PLEASE STOP SHOWING UP AND BEING CREEPY TOWARDS NADIA AND A DICK TO LUCAS!! Him, the Royal family, and honestly the vast majority of the people in Arpechele suck major donkey balls oh my god. Y’know what I kinda support Dahut’s plan to just burn the country to the ground, we stan a short king 👑

… is it bad though that Capucine’s kinda grown on me? LOL, like I still hate his guts (thank you Scien our god for blowing him up) but it’s kinda hilarious watching him when things don’t go his way 😂 idk if I find him a kind of well written villain or if I have Stockholm syndrome after we’ve been forced to see him in every route 💀

Jean on the other hand! I am so happy that my evil hot butler turned into a reluctant ally in this route!! The bit where he and Mathis had to help Scien was very super cute, and poor sweet Mathis you are so forgiving, you deserve so much better, I hope Jean treats you nicer 😔 I respect his one-track mind for Rosalie though, man has a mission to get his wife back and by god he’s not gonna let anything stop him lmao 🫡

Gotta say though, I don’t remember exactly what triggered this but I just remember thinking, “oh more science to ignore!” So, yeah it… did not get better lmao. Like, some hand-wavey science is fine for world building and stuff, but when your plot hinges on the science and details, it’s really gotta have a more solid foundation than this. It’s not even nitpicking, it really doesn’t make sense if you think about it for more than one second 😂

Ngl I kinda wish that they had kept the supernatural aspect (not just because I’m not super keen on Ankou being Adolphe…), it would’ve made the nonsensical science easier to digest so they wouldn’t have been forced to explain everything away. Like, if it’s all grounded in reality, answer me this game! How did Ankou regenerate HIS CLOTHES after being just a HEAD IN A JAR??? 💀 the censoring was also kinda weird… like okay sure it’s all scientific but what, “the world” won’t let Ankou talk about specific things Adolphe doesn’t know yet?? Sure……. 😐

Although, no magic does make Ankou’s “vanishing” kinda hilarious since it meant he really did have to just run and hide behind whatever he could find. Like that’s inching towards JJBA part 3 DIO stopping time and carrying polnareff two steps down the staircase just to fuck with him levels of petty and dramatic LOL, but also have you seen how long and flowy this man’s hair and clothes are, Ceres how did you not notice?? Girl is you dumb??? 😂

Also I find adolphe being 25 while Ceres is 18 a little bit sus, and I’m really not a fan of the “big brother” figure becoming a love interest trope (I know they’re not blood related but still 😬). If Ankou had actually been a supernatural entity that was hundreds of years old, I would’ve been totally fine with that lmao, but him being Adolphe?? Mmmmm… mmmm unfortunately that’s a no from me, damn I’m actually kinda disappointed, just gonna make up something in my head and pretend that fact doesn’t exist 😔

I LOVE that all our boys + Jean(LOL) banded together in this route though!! Seeing them all alive made me so relieved oh my god 😭 wish we got a little bit more Lucas (yes I’m biased) but I get it, he’s too OP lmao, they literally had to nerf him with incurable anime disease before the game even started or else he’d be too much of a threat 💀

OH I FORGOT ABOUT HUGO LMAO, thanks for helping too, bud! I’m so glad you realize how Yvesexual you are in this final route!! 😂

Okay. I think that’s all the word vomit I have… tldr; Dahut is a short king, Salome kinda sucks to me, Ankou still >>> Adolphe (sorry Adolphe fans) and I wish there actually was a supernatural aspect, loved the squad of my boys + Jean helping out!

My personal character rankings now are Lucas > Jean(I know he’s not an LI just let me be delusional💀) > Ankou (took a hit being Adolphe but he’s so pretty it makes up for it) > Yves > Scien = Mathis > Adolphe

I’m still emotionally devastated but I’ll probably do the rest of the despair ends today and then all the salvation ends tomorrow/the day after depending on how long they take… I think I’ll just squeeze them all into one ramble lmao

Hoooo boy this was a doozy, still love the game despite my complaints, looking forward to being destroyed again by the salvation ends (I just know Lucas’s is gonna suck) 😂

#blupengu yells about virche evermore #virche spoilers #my post

5 notes · View notes

mushroom-for-art · 1 year

Text

I should be writing shadow au oops, I'm sorry I am working on it slowly but these guys possessed me I wanted Syn to menace May and them chat about aus my brain is bouncing around XD enjoy! (Syn belongs to @seasidemew)

More multiverse shenanigans

May should've been working. May HAD been working, until the larger mewtwo decided to descend upon her. She could feel the warmth of his chest on her back as he leant over and into her body, arms wrapped around her his tail lightly hitting the floor as he purred quietly.

"Can I help you Syn?" She asked slightly amused by this sudden affection but also it was rather inconvenient.

"Mm…" He hummed softly, "No, I'm just glad you're so small and cuddly here." She sighed softly, feeling him give her a little squeeze like she was some plush teddiursa.

"Which world did you find out about then? Perfect or Poached?" She asked simply already aware of the many vast variations of herself and knowing those were the most recent and the only ones so far that played with her height. His tail stopped lightly thumping.

"What's poached.." She could tell by his tone he didn't know what it was and felt a bit of panic settle in.

"...oh you know..like with eggs…" May deflected keeping her eyes on the very interesting tiles on the floor.

"May. What happens in Poached." Syns arms shifted subtly to more restrain her preventing her from trying to duck or wiggle away but still remaining quite cuddly. She made a bit of a whine bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she mumbled.

"Ikindamaybegetcaughtinadarkball," she mumbles unintelligibly into her palm, his weight leans down more into her making her exhale softly in an oof.

"Careful big fella I can't support your whole weight!"

"Well I can't hear you when you're mumbling so I gotta lean closer," more of his weight presses down and she makes a slightly panicked 'ack' in response to his antics as he simply chuckled.

"Who the hell let you watch lilo and stitch alright give give a bit I can't talk like this," his weight lessens on her back as she sighs exaggeratedly before awkwardly fiddling with her hands.

"I get caught by poachers, caught in a dark ball..hence the name.."

"A, dark ball?" She audibly sucked air through her teeth at his question, hesitating on telling him.

"it's uh..type of pokeball poachers use…Darkness says the technology used is quite impressive actually, has a similar function to a master ball can capture any Pokemon instantly," she felt his weight shift, "hey I'm getting there!"

"You're stalling," His voice was a playful singsong.

"I know I'm stalling!" She emptily shouted back, "it's, not fun to talk about," her voice awkwardly quietened and she felt his weight lessen and heard a soft apology, she sighed, "the dark ball…it can enhance a pokemons original ability bringing it to it's highest possible level augmenting them to be even better than they were originally.."

"Why would that make you bigger?"

"Because I'm, not," she struggled for words, "apparently I have potential and I was meant to be tall and powerful and the dark ball artificial unlocks and forces that version of me into my most powerful state.." She didn't want to talk about the how it did that though. She felt him gently squeezing her body again but more as a hug.

He hung his head down a little besides her eyes screwed tight and she gently put her hand to his head rubbing the side of it comfortingly as he experienced new memories from across the multiverse.

"You're, yea, I see it, you're brutal.." He mumbles a bit as the new memory of the fighting ring enters her head.

"I guess so…guess being forced to max level does that..sorry about knocking you about so much." Memories of a fight began to form in both their heads as the new world grew and they became aware of it.

"Oh it's fine, it's kinda hot actually you're efficient," He chuckles, lifting his head up a bit to smirk at her playfully moving to gently bonk his head against hers to which she made a mock 'ow'.

"How come you hesitate on landing the match ending blow?" He furrows his brows at his memory.

"Because I don't want to hurt another mewtwo, not really, guess seeing your bloody bruised face was enough to get past the dark balls influence. Must have a thing for bloodied up pretty boys. Well gives you enough time to strike and then kick my ass." She laughed softly as he guiltily chuckled.

"Yeah I'm sorry, I really saw an opportunity and took it."

"Hey we were in a fight, i'd rather you won especially with your history." He hums above her gently squeezing her again.

"You, escape all that right? I don't recall seeing you again."

"Yea, I get out.. Thanks for asking, nice to know you care." He chuckled softly.

"I can care a bit!" She laughed a squeal as he squeezed her again, picking her up a bit before putting her down as he sighed softly in guilt, "I, actually learnt about the other one, Perfect was it? I'm, sorry for how I act there..I hear you saying you don't want to fight. I can see you dodging and avoiding fighting back and." He signed again, "all I can think about is how good it'll feel and how loud the audience will cheer when I take down such a big powerful opponent." She felt him squeeze her in guilt and moved her hand again to carefully hold the side of his face.

"Hey..its okay I get it I understand why, maybe I don't understand there at first but here I understand and I've hit you pretty hard and brutally before myself, I can't hold a grudge."

"You always fight like that to protect others or as a last ditch self preservation thing, it's not the same."

"What would've happened had you lost?" He went quiet in thought, turning his head away at the new suggested memories of losing and the fall out of it.

May was quiet as her hand moved once more to hold his face as he pressed into her touch knowing without him having to say that it would've been bad and although he did it for himself there was also a level of survival to it. She felt him purr softly against her hand.

"Feeling better now huh?" He hummed softly against her, "can I get back to work now ya great lug? I can feel something hard and pointy jabbing into me and I hope its that crystal." He howled an abrupt startled laugh at her joke moving instead to scoop her up into his arms ignoring her protesting.

"Oh no I think I'm going to steal you away for myself for a bit actually," He turned his head towards the general direction of the kitchen, "I'm stealing May for a bit, deal with it!" before turning to carry her out the restaurant leaving the owner quite confused.

"You put me down, this is kidnapping!" She couldn't hide the excited giggling in her tone as he carried her away.

"I just figured we should get some privacy if I'm gonna jab you with something hard and pointy." She squeal laughed into her hands as he carried her away kicking her feet in too much energy as his tail wagged behind him chuckling at her joy.

#My writing #May the mewtwo #@seasidemew oc #@seasidemew syn #cw mature humor #Tw mention of blood #The Perfect thing is in reference to my A little different fic but basically May there doesn't get the darkness megastone #So ends up a big big powerful girl because I've kinda started hc the synergy corruption in that megastone sapped Mays energy #Which stunted her so Perfect refers to her being 'perfect' because she's big and has powers but like also wow all trauma #Multiverse Syn really sees a tall powerful version of May and goes “THAT'S HOT” only to learn the version of him in that world absolutely #Beats the shit outta her in the battle ring because due to trauma May doesn't wanna fight back or hurt him and goes NOOOOOO #So goes to cuddle his tiny May because ough no stay tiny and perfect like this I don't wanna think about the sad :c #Multiverse Syn definitely has more empathy and cares more because hmm sometimes my wife yes lmao #Also you heard it here first folks bloody pretty boys are Mays type™️ XD probably why she helps him when he's injured #Not immune to a pretty boy bleeding out XD and yes she calls him a pretty boy he probably loves it like yes I AM pretty #I've not actually talked about poached before it's an au in my head so dw no ones missed anything #Her getting big is a reference to the tyranitar in the 4ever movie!! I'm allowed to bullshit cause that fucker gets big so may get big too!

3 notes · View notes

hirvenxsoturi · 1 year

Text

Verses

note: verses are noted per universe unless noted as an AU. Bev is an agent of the multiverse, and the way universes are kept track of are basically like a filing cabinet system. If they are a part of the “main verses” section, then they are all linked to “default” Bev, otherwise these are noted down as an AU interaction.

main verses:

v || ionic bond- takes place approximately one year after the events of Transformers: Prime. Bev currently works for Agent Fowler and is in the second in command of this branch of Unit E. He is raising his nine year old daughter, Cora, at their ranch just outside of Jasper, Nevada while he figures out his new abilities as a Hart of Yggdrasil. This main universe is shared with yggdrasilushxrt, wardogxicarus, legattus, and medicuum

v || alpha decay - Universe file for V and the Cyberpunk 2077 universe

v || anion - Universe file for monsterorman / musesbykai

v || displacement vector - Universe file for codenamesilas / codenamejudas

v || escape velocity - Universe file for anotherhumanpet

alternate universes:

au || running with the wolves - Werewolf au. Bev has just recently moved to a sleepy small town surrounded by vast forests, taking on the job as the towns newest Sheriff in charge of keeping the people, and supernatural beings, that reside there, safe. He owns a ranch just on the outskirts of town with his young daughter.

au || vast expanse [ see here for additional info ] - The pilot for the SS Grantham, he and his daughter have taken the opportunity to travel the stars and learn about what is out there. Bev is the official commander for the Grantham’s flight deck.

au || its a toon toon world - A homicide detective, partly dealing with toons and the shenanigans that they get into. Occasionally he helps out the toons division of the department, and doesn’t mind doing so for the most part.

au || the gunslinger - Old West AU. Bev has just bought a ranch and become the sheriff of a small, but important trading and livestock town. A widower, he lives alone with his daughter on their ranch, making sure the people are safe and the town is welcoming to all who travel there.

au || the traveling warrior -

au || hyrule warrior -

#dossier notes || headcanons #[ i'm probably forgetting some but hey look a verses page finally ]#[ verses page is constantly in wip stage ]

2 notes · View notes

anestofocs · 2 months

Text

AUs and verses shared between our muses

Since two or more of our muses have the same AU or Verse, here's a handy list.

Shared AUs:

The Sacred Darkness AU:

Involved characters: Yuki, Crowe

Muses specific to this au: Scylla aka Devil Crowe

Details:

In the normal verse of this blog, Hayato Kiyori was just a guy in the wrong place, wrong time. A victim of circumstances beyond his control.

In this one however. He is the puppet-master. Using his enemies in order to create loyal, devoted soldiers of Azzael and spread his "gift" of the devil gene in order to bolster the armies of the Dark Stars.

With his eldest daughter Ayame and her devil, Scylla as the head. Filling her with the thoughts that it is she who shall be the fabled Dark Star of Hope. Delusions that Azzael happily fosters to further his goal of freedom. Yuki is one of the children that managed to escape the cult like clan. Innocent, he seeks help while offering gifts. But is he a Trojan horse, or as kind as he claims?

More to come:

Shared Verses:

For Fortune - Dragon Age:

Involved Muses: The Doctor, Yuki, Crowe

In this Verse, Three lords of fortune travel around Thedas seeking secrets, glory and fortune naturally. All while running from the Templars. the crows and blighted foes alike. Just what will they get up to this time?

Fight of your lives - Tekken/KoF/etc

Involved muses: All except Amir and Shino

The main 'verse and what the blog defaults to. This follows the main Tekken story-line, particularly post eight. Flexible and crossover friendly.

(Final) Fantasy - All Fantasy genres/crossovers:

Involved muses: All

Less of a solid "universe" and more catch all for the non Dragon Age fantasy related shenanigans that occur, including Eyrthis/Hydealyn of FF14. In this "verse", Every Kiyori, unless stated otherwise is magic user and some form of elf. While the Doctor is totally not a god in human, no sir, just a regular mortal.

#the multiverse is vast: shenanigans #verses and aus

0 notes

dramatisperscnae · 7 months

Text

Verses - Kyle Rayner

Verse: Last Green Lantern – Mainverse – After being given a ring and zero instruction by a short blue alien in a red robe behind a bar in L.A., Kyle Rayner has become the last Green Lantern in the universe. It’s taken some time, but he’s proven himself not only a worthy ring-bearer but a solid addition to Earth’s roster of heroes, having held his own against the likes of Mongul and Grayven as well as working with both the Titans and the Justice League.

Verse: Torchbearer - Kyle Rayner kept the flame of the Lanterns burning even after Parallax destroyed the Corps and forced Kyle to destroy Oa itself in order to stop him. When Oa was restored Kyle gave up the power of Ion, the purest embodiment of Willpower itself, in order to revive the Guardians and - one day - restore the Corps itself. That day has now come to pass. Kyle is no longer the last Green Lantern; he is the reason they can now once again patrol the universe. With the added powers of the Starheart granted him by Jennie Hayden in her last moments, together with his renewed abilities as Ion, Kyle has been chosen by the Guardians to be their Torchbearer in more than merely name. It is his title, however informal; he will safeguard their powers and that of the Corps, should the unthinkable ever happen again. To that end and due to his powers and abilities, Kyle - as much as he remains a Lantern of Sector 2814 - has no actively assigned sector; instead he is called upon by the Guardians to deal with the…odder missions that might require a more specific touch.

Verse: Honor Guard - During the Sinestro Corps War Kyle had the power of Ion forcibly stripped from him by Sinestro himself, who wasted no time at all in infecting Kyle with Parallax. With the aid of Hal Jordan Kyle managed to free himself, but his position as Ion was permanently removed as the entity was bestowed upon a Lantern recruit named Sodam Yat. Instead, Kyle has been reinstated as a member of the Honor Guard, partnered with Guy Gardner. Whether this is a good or bad decision remains to be seen.

Verse: Multiverse Shenanigans - Various one-off or temporary 'verses Every possibility exists somewhere; the multiverse is a vast and unpredictable place where anything can - and does - happen. Primarily used for one-shot AUs, with potential for them to become established verses if they seem to be sticking!

Verse: Souls Bound in Light - Halkyle soulmate AU with 1rstflight

Verse: Misfits Bound - Jaykyle soulmate AU with redvenante

More to come as I read more of his story. pls to have patience ^^;;

#kyle verse

0 notes

mapsofthingsremembered · 8 months

Text

23 Things from 2023

Yet another list of media that was important to me in 2023- films, television, novels, short stories, comics, and music.

Films, New

The Boy and the Heron, Hayao Miyazaki

Both the best movie of the year (in a good year for movies) and one of the best films Miyazaki has ever made. A masterpiece, deranged and elusive and personal and timeless, completely unafraid to challenge the audience to stare into the weirdest and most unsettling aspects of being a human. The kind of film you are excited to watch again while you are watching it.

The Holdovers, Alexander Payne

Either a deeply cynical film hiding a warm sentimental heart, or a sappy Christmas film that masks a bitter and biting worldview.

Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse, Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson, Kemp Powers

Everything about this film should be completely exhausting and exhausted-- self-aware superhero myth re-arraganging, multiverse shenanigans, Spider-Man as a lens for a coming-of-age story-- and yet somehow it managed to do something original, remain interesting, and push a completely tired genre into places nobody asked for. In the year that superhero filmmaking died, this film managed to not only be survive, but feel completely essential.

May December, Todd Haynes

Unsettling, hilarious, bizarre, deeply biting satire. A situational comedy populated by freaks and perverts.

The Killer, David Fincher

It's worth watching this film multiple times. On the first viewing, it feels thin, slight, simplistic. But re-watching, the craftsmanship that Fincher achieves is a part of the text itself, just as important as the bare-bones plot and characterization. The Killer is Fincher becoming more and more himself, descending into his own mania and obsessivness.

Everything from The Creator that worked, Gareth Edwards.

While several films came out this year were "better" than The Creator- the aspects of this film were successful represent some of the most imaginative filmmaking of the year.

Does the films ideas concerning AI hold water? No, but then neither does Star Wars or Blade Runner or 95% of the films that have come out in the past fifty years that attempt to address aritificial intelligence in any way.

Do the central relationships of the film work in keeping us invested in the story? (Sorta) Does the story hang together to form a satisfying, well-structured whole? (Almost) Does the film attempt to address a set of themes in a hamfisted way that feels like the writers were just a couple of months behind where the discourse around AI would end up when the movie came out? (Yup). Am I an easy mark for a film that uses a Radiohead song to score a scene that is a direct reference to Apocalypse Now? (Definitely)

And yet, I kind of still feel like it's a great film. Maybe flawed, maybe uneven, yet still containing moments that are simply sublime, a combination of the practical and CGI that achieves what a dozen other franchise films failed to do: it feels both real and vast and original and exciting. It wasn't the best film of the year by any stretch of the imagination, but it still deserved better.

Honorable mentions in 2023 film:

Poor Things (funniest movie of the year?) Killers of the Flower Moon Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem How to Blow Up a Pipeline Beau is Afraid When Evil Lurks (most frightening movie of the year?) Theater Camp

Films, Old (But New to Me)

The Apartment, Billy Wilder (1960)

This film is much stranger and darker than you would expect going into it. It somehow straddles multiple eras; the stagey, bright, artificiality of classic old Hollywood, but with a haunted, mournful soul that anticipates that darkness and cynicism of the late 60s and new Hollywood.

A New Leaf, Elaine May (1971)

Elaine May both directed this film and casted herself as a loveable dope that Walter Mathau is trying to murder. It's funny and sweet and overlooked.

The films of Park Chan Wook, in particular Decision to Leave (2022)

I watched most of Park Chan-Wook's films, and among a lot of standouts (Lady Vengeance and The Handmaiden in particular), his most recent film stuck with me. It's a good summation of some of the psychological acrobatics his films can achieve, a murder mystery that is also a love story.

Paper Moon, Peter Bogdanovich (1973)

It's kind of funny that Ryan O'Neal essentially plays the same character as the role he would play in Barry Lyndon, a scoundrel con-man that uses his charm to finance a nomadic lifestyle, perpetually fleeing problems created by his own stupidity. He's a loveable himbo liar in both, but in Paper Moon, he gets to act next to his real-life daughter. The depth that this pairing creates makes for something genuinely unique and special.

Honorable Mentions in Old Film:

The Piano, Jane Campion (1993) Barton Fink, Joel and Ethan Coen (1991) Dead Ringers, David Cronenberg (1988) PlayTime, Jacques Tati (1967) One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Milos Forman (1975) Prisoners, Denis Villenueve (2013) The Innocents, Jack Clayton (1961)

Television, New

Scavenger's Reign (HBO)

The title of this show might be dumb, but I don't care. It's the best television show of the year, or at least my favorite. Admittedly, I'm kind of out on television in general; I don't think a lot of what is getting produced is justifying its runtime as much as its stalling for time. But then a show like Scavengers Reign comes along, an exploration of what an alien biosphere might be like that is as specifically rendered and wildly innovative as any science fiction in recent memory. It's a rare instance of television being used to accomplish something that could only be created in television-- a set of visual ideas developed over an extended series of episodes that builds to something both bizarre and somehow also moving.

Succession, Season 4

Succession is a show about how the levers of power and influence are manipulated at the highest levels of the capitalist plutocracy we live in by broken bufoons unable to recognize their own flaws and shortcomings. It's also simply very funny, and very sad, and very human. It's one of the best shows ever made, and its ending (along with the next entry's ending) feels like we've closed the chapter on Peak TV.

Barry, Season 4

Smaller in scope but just as much of an achievment than Succession, Barry developed from something grimly funny but fairly straightforward into something sad and twisted and uncompromisingly complex. In the final season, it took its influences-- the films of the Coen brothers, Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, Tarantino, sketch comedy-- and turned them inside out, making something entirely different, less digestible, and perfectly bleak.

Honorable Mentions in 2023 Television

Beef Poker Face

Music

The Talking Heads, 1973-1991, in particular the music in the film Stop Making Sense (1984).

Really didn't listen to much music this last year, which is something I'd like to change this year. The one artist I really explored this year that I haven't in the past is the Talking Heads. If you can see Stop Making Sense in theaters, do it-- it lives up to its reputation as one of the greatest concert films of all time.

Books, Old and New

Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead, by Olga Tokarczuk (2009)

The narrator of this novel is a bat-shit crazy woman obsessed with astrology and the poetry of William Blake; she's funny and interesting and insightful even as the full degree of her insanity slowly develops. It's also a murder mystery with a genuinely surprising twist (don't look it up on Wikipedia, the first line of the description spoils it).

We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson (1962)

The final novel written by the author of "The Lottery" and The Haunting of Hill House. Careens between psychological thriller and comedy and outright horror. The kind of book that more people should read.

A Canticle for Leibowitz, Walter M. Miller Jr (1959)

An "important" science fiction novel I've been putting off your years. It's both funnier and less dated than I expected it would be, and while some of the societal concerns it addresses may have shifted, it remains prescient in a way that truly great science fiction can even decades after being published.

The Troop, Nick Cutter (2014)

It's rare that a novel genuinely scares me, but this one did. Coming-of-age body horror that evokes Alien and Lord of the Flies and Cronenberg and Stand By Me.

Short Stories

I read a lot of short stories this year; the following are a few that stood out. All of them were in collections that are equally worth checking out.

Murder Mysteries, Neil Gaiman (1992)

Not the kind of murder mystery you'd expect. From Trigger Warning, 2015.

Nine Lives, Ursula K. LeGuin (1968)

Doesn't involve cats at all. (Also very good.) From The Wind's Twelve Quarters, 1975.

"Pearls Are A Nuisance", Raymond Chandler (1953)

One of Chandler's short mysteries; it plays with tone and voice in a way that sets it apart from his other short mysteries (which are also great.) From The Simple Art of Murder, 1950.

Comics, Old and New

The Nice House on the Lake, James Tynion IV (Author) and Alvaro Martinez Bueno (Illustrator)- DC Comics (2021-2023)

Comics usually don't have the depth or focus of a novel; as often as not they feel like a weekly serial meant to extend forever without really going anywhere. But The Nice House on the Lake felt purposeful and sharp in a way that comics rarely do. Like alot of the comics I like the most, it exists in a middle space between genres-- it's equal parts post-apocalyptic sci-fi and puzzle-box mystery and a tale of a sprawling friend group muddling their way through their mid-twenties. Honorable Mentions, Comics Eight Billion Genies, Charles Soule and Ryan Browne (2022-23) Gotham City: Year One, Tom King and Phil Hester (2022-23)

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, Hayao Miyazaki (1982-1994)

I guess it was a year of Miyazaki for me. After watching Nausicaa last year, I decided to check out the manga that Miyazaki wrote both before, during, and after the 1984 film . It's the first full manga series I've ever finished. The manga expands the narrative way beyond the 1984 film; it's more vast and epic and complex and nuanced, sci-fi/fantasy that has as much in common with Lord of the Rings and the French illustrator Moebius as any contemporary anime. You could view the rest of Miyazaki's career as an exploration of the themes and imagery that began with in Nausicaä, and it's really worth going back to, even as the end of Miyazaki's career looms.

1 note · View note