English is not my first language, so please bear with me. Multifandom I write short stories in English because I still don’t fully master the grammar. Esp/Eng 🇲🇽
Gotta tell you guys something wild in the Chinese fan sphere
So some fanartist drew a “sexy” (read: booby) version of a (cartoon) character who is traditionally very non-sexualised. Fans of the character got mad about it because it’s kind of groundbreaking how that character is written and portrayed and this art totally ignores the entire point of the character. They demanded the art be deleted. In response to that other people said, well what the fanartist did may be distateful but they have every right to draw what they’re into. The two sides fight for days and each starts a harassment campaign and even report their “opponents’” accounts.
So far so typical. But things eventually come to a head and they decide that this will be settled by votes - not through a poll. Through donations to a children’s education charity via each side’s portal. Whoever can get the highest amount of donation wins.
And that is how this charity received over 1 million in donations in three days lol. Oh btw the “freedom of expression” side won by a landslide (960k to 40k)
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Tim thinks his new University Professor is weird. There's just something about Mr. Fenton that sets off alarm bells, not the paranoia bells, he doesn't think Mr. Fenton is evil, or a rogue, but just, weird? Odd? Uncanny? Off kilter? Tim's not sure what it is, but he's gonna find out.
His investigation lasts all of three weeks until hes called into a meeting with Mr. Fenton and Bruce. And since Tim didn't tell anyone about his investigation into his teacher, Bruce has absolutely no idea why he was called in.
Now, "why were they called in?" You may wonder;
Mr. Fenton has noticed Tim staring at him, following him, and even snooping through his desk. Now, Mr. Fenton was teenager once, he knows how sometimes kids get crushes on older people, and in theory there's nothing wrong with that, but as the adult, it's Mr. Fenton's responsibility to draw the line, and he has to put a stop to it. Tim is his student, and much younger than Mr. Fenton is, and Mr. Fenton has no interest in people younger than him, not to mention, hes his teacher. Now, he doesn't want to hurt Tim's feelings, but he has to be truthful, and would like Bruce to talk to his son about boundaries, and power imbalances, and it would probably be best to move Tim to one of the other teachers' classes.
Tim is mortified as he leaves the meeting, with Bruce silent until they reach the limo. Tim's in shock as Bruce starts lecturing him about age gaps, power imbalance, and predatory behavior, and how Mr. Fento was luckily not a creep, but there could be teachers in the future who would take advantage of a crush like Tim has, and how he should be careful.
Tim, after suffering in mortified silence for a good twenty minutes, finally bursts out with, “It’s not a crush! He’s just . . . there’s something weird about him, okay? I’ve been trying to investigate him, but he must have caught me somehow.”
Bruce hums. “He caught you?”
Tim scrunches down into the car seat. “He must have.”
“Hmmm. If you think there’s something to investigate, then it’s worth looking into. But,” he raises a warning finger, “you should be focusing on your education. I’ll look into this Professor Fenton.”
Two months later, the Justice League have a new auxiliary member and Bruce has a new boyfriend. Tim is mortified all over again.
After Sam and Tucker ended their speech every one was giggling and chuckling but thankfully quieting down (as much as fentons could quiet down) as Jason stood up from his seat at the table.
"*cough cough* Hello everyone! All of you may know me as Jason, (sadly) the second son of Bruce. Bruce and I knew each other for a long time. Precisely since I tried the steal the old man's tires and he kidnapped me over it." Jason starts with a chuckle, a glass of champagne in his hands looking ridiculously tiny as he tries to suppress and hide the budding grin on his face. Some people chuckle too, everyone from the immediate family already knows how Bruce acquired most of his children.
"But I'ma be honest. I'm standing here right now in front of all of you to do one thing. And it is to humiliate as much of my family as possible." He says after quickly loosing the battle and deciding to embrace the glee and shit-eating grin on his face. This gets more chuckles and short smothered laughs from everyone.
"While preparing to do this I considered all the most embarrassing times my family had around Danny." Jason hums with his head high as if he's still choosing which family member emotionally torture first.
"...And for those that know how Danny and Bruce first met... You already know who's gonna be on the chopping block first." Jason's grin turns down right devil-worthy and his eyes focus on one person who he loves to torment the (second) most. And while him and Tim stare at each other like they are gonna fight on this goddamn table in a blick of an eye, a few of Batfam start laughing as the others try to smother and hide their grins. The Fenton side of the wedding guests is perking up in intrigue. Most of them distant cousins and uncles who never got the story of how the pair met. The fentons themselves (including Sam and Tucker they are already part of the family wether they want it or not) glance at Danny in question since he never told them He and bruce met under some sort of interesting circumstances.
Danny and Bruce are sitting at the head of the table, gorgeous in their suits. Both of their shoulders are shaking, Bruce leaning and almost laying on Danny's shoulder with how much he's trying to not laugh. It's the happiest day of his life and he can stop smiling. In the past he could never imagine himself smiling so much without jokergas getting involved. And now he just can stop. Each little moment with his family here, every glance at his husband (his breath still catches every time he remembers that Danny said yes. That this is his husband. So gorgeous, so handsome. That this god of a man sees bruce. That he thinks Bruce is worth all the love he's giving to him. It all feels unreal) and every time they meet gazes he just turns into a puddle on the inside.
Danny is no better. He never thought this day will come. After everything he just felt like he'll never meet someone who'll love him like this. Who'll see him. See all his shit and baggage. His core. And will love him through it all. Like he was the shiniest star in the galaxy. His core fluttered each time him and bruce met gazes. And he's not ashamed to admit that he cried when he saw bruce (being led by Alfred) at the end of the aisle, when they were pronounced married and at some speeches of their family (Alfred's, Jazz's and Damian's specifically). Their family. He feels like he can just end here and now and be forever happy.
Him and Bruce just continue to try to hold back their laughter as they look at their family. Jason triumphantly telling the story (at some point he stood on his chair with one of his foot on the table) and cackling while Tim was glaring daggers at him and being restrained by laughing Dick and Cass. Damian's shoulders were shaking with his head angled down, no doubt to hide that he was also smiling at how idiotically Tim was caught! While Steph was already clutching her stomach and leaning onto Barbara who was chuckling and recording the speeches. Duke was shaking with open laughter next to Ellie who was practically laying in her own plate and punching the table. And Dan who had his arms crossed but smiling in a rare moment of open affection and fondness from the guy (He's more like a brother to Danny while Ellie is like a daughter/younger sister).
i love BAMF 10 yr old Damian who can clock everybody's shit, but there is also something so funny to me about dumb-bitch-child Damian. like i need there to be a world where. hold on no i just need to write the conversation hold on
-
*Damian, out of nowhere on patrol one night*
Damian: you know.., there was a solid 2 year period at the league compound where i thought you were Batman.
Jason:
Jason: what?
Damian: yeah- ‘cause like, i was seven. and i met you for the first time after you came out the pit and were all big already. and i didn’t know anything about my father apart from, like, what my mother told me of him, right? and so when i met you, and i never actually heard anybody call you your name—just Mother referring to you as ‘one of Gotham’s greatest heroes’ and everybody calling you ‘prince’, in my little seven-year-old head, i was like ‘ok so this must be him then’.
Jason: what the fuck.
Damian: well you looked a lot like him. i’d only ever seen one grainy photo of the man taken from a distance and you fit the description; same build, hair, eyes, broody manner and passion for justice. you were everything i’d ever thought Batman was supposed to be, so when Mother started giving you special treatment and demanding you be treated like somebody important within the league, i thought that was just her lingering affection for an ex.
Jason:
Jason: is that why you made me teach you how to ride a bike?
Damian: yeah i was trying to make up for lost time.
Damian: i don’t know how you didn’t pick up on it—i called you Father like, religiously.
Jason: …to be honest i just wasn’t fluent in Arabic yet. when i finally did figure out that’s what you were saying i just assumed you were making a dig at the fact that i slept with Talia that one time.
Damian: yeah that was- can i be honest with you? i set that up.
Jason:
Jason: what.
Damian: originally Mother wasn’t going to meet with you in person that night, she was going to send a messenger in place, but i snuck into her chambers and edited her schedule so she’d be in the area anyway and would go see you herself.
Jason:
Damian: then i ordered food for where you were saying online in the hopes that you'd chat and realise you still loved each other.
Jason: that’s where those oysters came from-!
Damian: yeah i didn’t- i didn’t actually realise how problematic you and her being together was until after i came to Gotham. i was just trying to have a parent-trap moment and get my mom and dad back together, you know? i didn’t know you were seventeen, i just thought the Lazarus Pit had made you look more youthful than before.
Jason:
Jason, dryly: because famously, as you can tell by looking at Ra’s, that’s what the Lazarus Pit does.
Damian: listen i was eight.
Damian: -and i didn’t force you guys to do anything—this is still on my Mother for going with it; and for bad communication. if she had at any point spoken to me clearly about my father then that misunderstanding wouldn’t have ever happened.
Jason: so… when did you figure out I wasn’t Bruce Wayne…?
Damian:
Damian: well… it was complicated?
Jason: which means?
Damian: it means at first Mother told me i was just going to Gotham with you, which made me think, like, ‘yay, i get to go home with Dad’ right? and then we got to Gotham and saw Batman and Robin out and you started getting mad at a ‘replacement’, and i thought you were mad because your Robin replaced you with a new Batman.
Jason, incredulous: oh my god.
Damian: -yeah, but then we had that whole confrontation with them during patrol where you told Batman i was his son and that Talia Al Ghul wanted you to put me in his care, and i was just standing behind you like… what fucking game are you playing here Father?
Jason: *snort* you didn’t- that didn’t fucking tip you off?
Damian: no! i was like 2 years deep into this belief at this point, nothing was gonna shake me. i came to the conclusion that you were sending me in as a spy or something, so i went along with it. we got back to Wayne Manor and Pennyworth greeted Batman by saying ‘welcome back, Master Bruce’ and i got really mad at Tim because i was like ‘oh so not only did he replace Batman but he did it with the first fat fuck he found with the same first name, huh.’
Jason: *wheeze*
Damian: so i didn’t really try to kill Tim because i wanted Robin; i was doing it for your, the original Batman’s, honour.
Jason: oh my god????
Damian: ...yeah. i didn't- ok, honestly? i didn't really clock that you weren't the original Batman until after you unmasked yourself in front of everyone for the first time.
Jason: -EXCUSE ME-?
Damian: because- BECAUSE, in the league everybody just called you by 'prince' or 'the Gotham boy', and then in Gotham nobody knew your identity so everybody just called you Red Hood. it wasn't until you revealed your identity to the family and everybody started crying about some 'Jason Todd' that was still alive that i came to the realisation that nobody had ever point blank told me your name was Bruce Wayne.
Jason, in awe: wait- wait oh my god i do remember you being really fucking quiet during that whole reveal..,
Damian: yeah i was- i was coming to terms with a lot of stuff in that moment.
Jason: WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!
Damian: what am i, stupid? looking back a year or so later, yeah it's a funny memory of how stupid i was as a kid. in the moment? you couldn't have fucking waterboarded that info out of me.
Jason:
Jason: you know. it does kinda- oh my god it makes so much sense now,
Damian: what does?
Jason: Tim told me the first time they let you in the Batcave he watched you walk up to my memorial case, read the plaque, and then loudly go, 'who the fuck is Jason Todd'. and i always thought that was real fuckin' weird considering i'm your emergency contact.
Damian: *wheezes*
Jason: were you disappointed that the fake-Bruce was your actual dad, then?
Damian: honestly i was more troubled at the realisation that i'd actively participated in the action of trying to get my mother and adoptive brother to bang.
An old love from his youth whose music still keeps playing in Bruce’s life
Inspired by movies like Begin Again, Sing Street, La La Land, and more.
.
.
.
Bruce was a man of few hobbies, but since the kids could remember he had favored the music of a Gotham native, a singer that has gain fame later, but whom Bruce hear it even when she was unknown.
They completely ignored the story behind his love for play worn out vinyls while enjoying a glass of liquor; most of the time alone. But like all children, their father's taste started to grow in them. Hearing a song that could throw them back to childhood would make them drive back to the mansion.
Bruce’s music would become the family's music. On weekends, they would have dinner while listening to the songs in the background. They all had a favorite era, so upon Cass and Stephanie’s insistence they prepared a karaoke night.
Dick made a spectacle of his song, a catchy but romantic piece.
Jason favored an indie rock flavor that talked about deceiving yourself until waking up and seeing the relationship was long dead.
Tim went for something less dramatic but uplifting, about finding reward in an uncertain chase, even if it comes late.
Stephanie sang about not hiding your feelings just to make another happy, while Cass joined in, signing the song and doing a basic dance interpretation. They both ended up throwing colorful papers in the air, making everyone laugh.
Duke admitted that his mother used to listen to her, but he had never found himself attracted to that kind of music until he heard it once again in the mansion. The old song made him remember his mom baking while humming along, and in rediscovering his mom’s artist, he found the newer songs helped him keep moving after his parents’ accident.
Damian, whom they waited to skip the activity, surprises them not only with the fact he sang really well, but a song about happiness. It was the most emotion he had ever exhibited to them, a carefree moment to show he loved them even if they annoyed him.
Still the stellar of the night end being Bruce, whom they had heard sing in whispers, never in full voice. He ignored the monitor and put a CD in the sound system; then a melody that once filled him with bittersweet sentiment started to play.
So here we are
We've got another chance for life
It's what you want
I can see it in your eyes
You see so clear
It's coming into light
Go on, be wrong
'Cause tomorrow you'll be right
Don't sit around and talk it over
You're running out of time
Just face ahead
No going back now
He glimpses the boy who once was ready to let it all go, to take his bag and travel far away, discarding the Wayne name.
With his hesitance the smile on his girlfriend died, confusion turning to sad comprehension. The last time he reached out for her hand.
You've come so far
Now see, you're cutting all the ties
You're right, go on
Keep running for your life
Made up your mind
No going back now
See it all come falling down
You've tried so hard to figure out
Just what it's all about
You're fighting on and on and on
For what you know is true
And now say go on and on and on
Do all that you can do
A last kiss before he saw her go on the last train.
For a long time, he did not know what stopped him. A year later, she sent a copy of her first published album, he heard himself in the background on most of the songs, on track eight in a duet with her. But it was the last song (unreleased) that broke him.
He left Gotham that day, not to follow her, but to find himself.
Hey
We're never gonna go if we don't go now
You're never gonna know if you don't find out
You're never going back, never turning around
You're never gonna go if don't go now
You're never gonna grow if you don't grow now
You're never gonna know if you don't find out
You're never going back, never turning around
You're never gonna go if you don't go now
He could never forget his days of youth at her side. They have met by chance; she ran Bruce over while sprinting away from the cops, apologized, and made him hide her behind a trash can while he stood awkwardly in front of it.
When asked why she was running, she confessed she had been playing music with an improvised band in Leyton Alley. He asked what kind of music, and she invited him to the next session with a teasing smile.
He went expecting a chaotic sound with no coordination.
There was chaos, but beauty too. A random alley has never felt more alive than in that moment, with a bunch of teenagers playing music, another filming in a worn cassette recorder while holding a microphone over the band.
He was so enthralled by them that he was barely conscious of his voice making its way onto the track. Another would have kicked him out, but they said they actually liked the cadence he added to it.
On song number two, Bruce was on it by accident; by song number three, he started to feel part of the group; and by song number five, he was completely in love with Y/N.
His last name came up once and never again.
That year was like an oasis between his constant sorrow; he could remember eating cheap pizza and sugary milkshakes in an old booth while throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulders, both conspiring to win a poker game.
Still, reality ended up catching them.
His girlfriend and friends had nothing attaching them to Gotham—they wanted to record while traveling and had used every penny earned in bad jobs to buy tickets to Europe.
And Bruce, who for a long time thought he had nothing there either, in the end could not follow them.
Years later, when he found his way back to Gotham, his first stop was a music store where he bought her last two albums. She was not a household name, but an underground jewel that stayed strong for those persistent enough to search for new music and find something wonderful..
Bruce was grateful for his youth; his first love would always have a special place in his heart. Even after all these years apart, she found a way to touch his life through her music. Tonight, it showed him how much closer he had become to his children.
He really believed they would never meet again.
But his kids, with all their intelligence, never thought of asking him where he got that song. They decided to post a clip on social media and ask if someone knew what album it was from.
It was mayhem in a few hours.
People’s shock didn’t stop at finding out billionaire himbo Bruce Wayne could sing and perform like a pro, but someone pointed out that he sounded very similar to the unknown voice on Y/N’s first album. A voice that had sparked many theories but had never been confirmed by anyone involved in the project.
No confirmation of the new theory, just a short statement of why the song wasn’t found on music platforms.
But people talked, noticed how she didn’t deny the voice in her iconic duet of youth being Bruce Wayne, so they started to dig even more. The places where her first album was recorded became tourist attractions all around Gotham; not overly famous, but enough people would want to do the route if they ever found themself in the city, even Gotham’s native will do it once in their lifetime.
Bruce knew that it was never his kids’ intention to cause that much chaos online, but they were shameless enough to enjoy all of it. He ignored their relentless questions about how he got that song, if he really was on Y/N’s first album; they asked and asked but never found more clues than his special CD.
Rumors were starting to die when everything came out again. A random fan found an old article about a pizza-eating contest in Park Row, in a restaurant that Y/N had mentioned as her favorite in interviews. There was no way to deny it when they posted a picture showing him and Y/N being quite cozy in the background.
The mayhem came back.
But he admitted to himself he had enjoyed the wild ride of people finding out he wasn’t as aloof as newspapers portrayed him in his teens
So far, it was his kids’ reaction that made him laugh at random moments.
“YOU were in a band?!”
“I almost eloped with Y/N, to be honest”
“WHAT?!”
“She was almost Mrs. Wayne?!”
“No, I was almost Mr. L/N”
They were so shocked that he decided not to tell them how almost Batman never came to be—or how it was Y/N’s song that pushed him to find this path.
He was grateful for her, but he had never sought to reconnect, even if he could admit he missed her. They had lived such different lives all these years that he didn’t know if they could work out again.
It was a text from Barbara that made him take the risk.
He wore casual clothes and drove to Crime Alley. It was quite early in the morning—not a popular hour to eat pizza—so it was easy to find her in their old booth.
It wasn’t like old times; they were older, worn out by life.
But when they smiled at each other, it was like falling into place once again.
The Copy Ninja! Commission for the lovely @teachlover to use as a cover for her Kakashi x Reader fanfic: If I Can’t Have Him (I’ll Take You Instead) 💕 // Commission info: cuddlymaus.carrd.co/
Lately I'm having ideas before going to sleep... Another midnight prompt:
Jason thought it was funny.
He had been seeing this flyers everywhere about this tournament to win the right to adopt the prince of this place called the infinite realms, not realizing very few people seem to be able to see them. It was clearly some kind of joke, or maybe a reference for a new movie/game he hadn't heard of. So course Jason took a pen and wrote on one of them that Bruce Wayne was participating.
He thought it was funny. He still thinks it is, having the adoption addict in an adoption tournament it's funny! But he can admit, that the tournament being real, and very magical, make things a little complicated.
-_-_-_-
Danny will still be a ghostling for a long time, and elder ghosts in general have decided it would be healthy for him and Ellie to have an appropriate guardian, now that the prince and his mirrorborn were forced to leave their home dimension. Danny has met a lot of people he trusts at this point, and isn't so sure about choosing, or if he even wants any of these people as guardians. Look, he knows they're technically neons old, but a lot of them feel like peers, or older siblings, definitely not guardians.
So. After a lot of whining from literally every ghost that was even a year older than him, Danny set up an adoption tournament to get them off his back. He'll surely be able to make up his mind by the time the tournament is done.
Why is a random human being appointed by a revenant for the tournament? Eh, whatever, if they want to try their luck, why not let them? Frostbite had said it would be good if his guardian was at least somewhat connected with humanity. He'll point to this guy as proof he's trying to find someone that meets that requirement.
Honestly Jason didn't know what he was expecting. What started off as a funny haha turned into a full mess and going by the glowing green scroll in his hands was fully and permanently binding.
Swiping a hand down his face he did the only thing he could think to do. Call Dick.
"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the absolute worst how bad is it that I somehow signed B up for a magical tournament."
"Well hello to you Jason, my day was wonder- I'm sorry magical tournament?" Dick starts sarcastically before choking on his words. "Please explain."
(one explanation later)
"-And now he HAS to go." Jason collapsed onto his couch staring at the ceiling. Hearing nothing from the other end he is about to start getting angry when he gets his response.
"You put Bruce "let me just grab this child" Wayne in an adoption tournament, Jason." Dick says gravely, "Do you really think he is going to back out?"
When you see a person that looks exactly like your “dead” twin you were forced to kill years ago while out at a random coffee shop with your older brothers #whatdatmean
Being reborn as the daughter of a psychotic, murderous alien from a comic book you kinda remember reading leads you to having to grit your teeth and play ‘loving daughter’ to avoid having your skull caved in. With daddy issues like that, is it really surprising that you go on to sexually torment the protagonist of said comic book? Not that he seems to mind.
(Mark Grayson x Reader)
Maybe you liked reincarnation and transmigration stories so much because it seemed so inconceivable of it being even close to plausible. Maybe if you knew the sheer fright you would feel in such a story, you wouldn’t have entertained the notion in the first place.
Well, being reborn into what you thought was a fictional world wouldn’t be too bad if you woke up in Pokemon. Now, that sounds like a good time. Getting to leave home as a minor and not having to worry about money when you can just beat the shit out of your fellow trainers seems pretty good, actually. Way better than your actual situation, cruelly so. In fact, you think God or whatever entity-concept-bitch that threw you into a new life should recompense you. Maybe if you monologued hard enough you’d be given what you’re owed—
Are you being dramatic? No. No, you’re not. And if you are, then maybe you’re allowed to be a little obnoxious when you have a bloodied behemoth of a man with a scarred face and metal arm staring down at you, expression not dissimilar to a feral animal with rabies.
Judging by how the screams and sound of buildings collapsing has long gone silent, you suspect that the alien world you were born into was now distinctly lacking its lifeforms. It’s almost a shame. Your new species looked like pretty space elves, like something out of a shut-in nerd’s erotic sci-fi fanfic.
You’re almost disappointed that you have to die as a toddler, you’re pretty sure you were going to grow up to be quite the beauty based on how your new mother looks—
Oh, she’s probably dead too.
You feel like you should be crying right now, but you remain motionless, pinned under the gaze of an apex predator that seeks to maul you, without the right to even grieve.
In the depths of your fractured mind, you realize that this doesn’t seem to be in character for the man, if you can even call him that, before you. You should already be dead, like an ant carelessly crushed by the heel of an uncaring giant. But you’re still alive.
He speaks, and your heart nearly stops.
“So, you are the one that your…mother sought to protect. Once, she was a fine warrior, ravenous and uncaring, but you made her…weak. Pathetic, even. It was almost a mercy to put her down, free her from the sad morsel of flesh she has degraded into.” He leans down now, fully looming above you, your wooden cradle acting less like protection and more like a trap, leaving you unable to escape.
“And for what? To nurture you beyond what her teat can offer—“
Does he have something against breastfeeding?
“—Viltrum had no tolerance, even when it came to weeping babes—“
Oh. You know who’s standing above you now, Negan voice be damned to the worst layer of hell.
“Yet, here you lie, a new generation of our dying empire; weak and disappointing. The only spawn I have sired, the only being in the universe that shares any blood with me—“
Anything else he says is drowned out by your own internal screaming. Your father is Conquest and he's a deadbeat. The unhinged psycho from yet another superhero comic that delights off suffering and broken bones.
But, this information, while horrifying, brings a clarity that washes over you like cold water. You’re currently a toddler, a Viltrumite one, sure, but a toddler, nonetheless, with a pathetic grip and too small limbs, reliant on your now dead mother to care for you. But you’re Conquest’s child. His family, even if the term is a foreign concept to him, and that makes you special. That gives you a chance to survive. You know his isolation, his loneliness. You know how easily Viltrumite pride crumbles when its few survivors found love on Earth, folding like a house of cards. Nolan was the outlier and then the rule.
The way of survival was clear to you, another remanent from your past life; play the fool, stupid and oblivious.
So, you embrace your new body and abandon shame, and throw your hands into the air, making grabby hands at the murderer, asking for ‘uppies’.
(You’d cry later.)
He ends his traumatizing soliloquy, going frighteningly silent.
Yeah. He looks like he’s going to kill you. So, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“Da!” You cry out, giving him a gummy smile.
Maybe you should have just let him kill you.
His face remains as impassive as stone but after another painfully long pause, he reaches down with bloodstained hands and picks you up, holding you from under your arms, large fingers completely covering your ribs.
“You are Viltrumite in blood only, your weakness would have had you purged—“
You let out a childish laugh, innocent and pure, desperate not to get ‘purged’ as he put it, “Silly da!”
That gets him to shut up. You ignore the way he flexes his fingers, the way they dig into your skin, more than capable of crushing your bones—
Your stupid, tiny hands grip his, as if willing—pleading him to not end your second life.
“You are so new to life, so sheltered, you cannot even comprehend who holds you, what I am even capable of doing. Your own mother has been slain by my hand,” he muses. “You truly…perplex me. Do you know who I am by sheer instinct? Does our blood tie us together so intrinsically?”
You kind of want to laugh at how much his words piss you off. What an annoying way to speak. Without even realizing it, your little fingers start to squeeze and you hear his surprised intake of breath. Your hand pulls away, to reveal the beginning of a bruise on his finger.
Oh, fuck.
“So young, and your powers are already appearing? This feeling, is it…” He lets out something similar to a laugh, ugly and unnatural, “There is value to you yet, child.”
He abruptly lets you go, and you fall back into your crib, too shocked to even yelp. Who drops a child!? The only thing you do is stare up at him in shock. He smiles down at you, and you almost piss yourself.
“You…are different. I will not take you with me. Do not fret, for I will be watching.” He promises, expression odd, “The being you will become, so unlike what we should be…I look forward to it. After all, you are mine.”
And as sudden as he appears, he’s gone. And you’re left, feeling slightly bruised, alone in your crib on a now dead planet.
How were you supposed to survive, exactly!?
*
You did survive. It seems like your planet had ties to the Coalition, who only arrived after everyone died. Pretty cowardly, really. But, you can’t really complain since they did retrieve you from your broken home , taking you with them. To fight for their cause, but beggars can’t be choosers in a brutal subversion of superhero media. Why couldn’t you have ended up in Venture Bros?
The cherry on top of this train wreck of a situation is that they immediately clocked you for being a half-Viltrumite, presenting you to their leader, Thaedus. Tad, as you sometimes called him, when you wanted to annoy him.
He trained you, along with many others, who drilled it into you to survive, to be stronger than the Viltrumites that threatened the safety of all life and freedom as you know it. You were their ace in the hole, their hunting dog, the hope of the Coalition. Mongrel and messiah in one. They made sure you were educated, well versed in their code of ethics. That your loyalty would always be to them. Questionable of them to do, frankly speaking, but they kept you clothed and fed, so you had no reason to protest.
The company wasn’t so bad at least. Under the Coalition, you’ve had the opportunity to meet a lot of people, from all ends of the universe, some kind, others absolutely terrified of your mere existence.
Allen fell into the former category, always seeking you out, sharing anecdotes from his missions and asking for you to share your own. And with Allen, came Telia, a higher ranking member than you both that you trusted to not spit on you for being ‘Viltrumite scum’ or whatever it was that some practically scornful cadets called you. Little did they know who their leader truly is.
*
You’d figure you wouldn’t see your ‘father’ after he killed your mom, but fate was unkind and Conquest is bat-shit insane. But at least he didn’t rat you out. You still wonder why he annihilated your home planet when you were clearly proof of compatible breeding. Honestly, genocide was a mercy compared to what you know they wanted to do to Earth, what they would probably do to you, if they caught wind. It was for the better they died, unfortunately. Even if their only survivor carried their legacy as recessive genes.
Not that you would ever ask him, even if you did often have the opportunity. Whenever you least expected it, when you were too concentrated on your mission, whether it was peacemaking or inspecting a new planet to add to the Coalition, he would appear, killing whatever adversary you were facing gleefully, expecting your gratitude and admiration for it, so you’d grit your teeth and call him ‘father’, despite the humiliation. You were still too weak, too scared to act how you wanted to. Which was to cave his skull in.
Other times, he would just follow you. Silent, like a spectre. Or a fucked up looking dog.
It was worse when he tried to copy the acts of physical affection you shared with others. His hugs usually broke one or two ribs and his head pats left you with a bump. You’re not even sure how he learned about them in the first place. Other times, they weren’t…too painful, at least.
*
“Child,” he calls after slaughtering the fleet you were leading on a recon mission. “You grow stronger, yet you still lack the true strength of an Viltrumite.”
“Is that so?” You laugh, good natured, noting Shez’s head by your feet. He was your pilot. A good man and father from what little you knew about him.
“Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken you with me, if I still should,” Conquest admits.
“That’s an interesting thought,” you smile stupidly, trying to keep the murder off your face.
“But you are…more interesting like this.” He concludes. And you wonder why someone like him was committing probably the highest level of treason. For some daddy-daughter time? The Empire obviously didn’t do family, bonds were meaningless to them, but apparently not to Conquest anymore. Did the isolation from his race finally get to him? Was he really that simple? That…lonely?
Another long moment of silence passes before he leaves you with your broken ship and dead crew.
“Okay?” You whisper, making eye contact with Shez.
*
You were on your way back to base after surveying a planet of bug people, they had no warriors or weaponry to speak of and their technology was nothing to write home about. Unfortunately, they had nothing to offer to the Coalition. At least that meant Viltrumites would have no interest in them either. No, that sounds wrong——
Your thoughts are cut off when you’re suddenly tackled mid-flight, and before you know it, you find yourself in a stone cube your father apparently dragged around as shelter. A house? Just without a bed. And everything else. It was sad and barren, only having some supplies and what looks like a…cake? On the ground before you, messily frosted a deep red colour. You hope that isn’t blood, actually.
“You told me once how some species choose to celebrate their day of birth. A foolish sentiment,” he rumbles, sitting before you.
You can kind of remember rambling about birthdays. You usually just say whatever pops up in your mind so his thoughts don’t swerve into killing you. The most terrifying thing about him was how we could go from looking like the psycho killer he is to giving you big, sad eyes. It almost humanized him.
“Oh, it’s not my birthday,” you start to say before noticing his expression, “It’s— it’s your birthday?”
“I do not recall when I was born.”
Neither of you say anything for a moment.
“You said there would be singing,” he scowls.
“Oh, well, only sometimes, like rarely, actually—“ you notice his glare, and duck your head. “Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…”
*
While you didn’t have to worry about debt or making something of yourself like in your past life, your current life was uniquely difficult.
You were growing wary (and scared) of having to placate your ‘father’. You don’t believe he would snitch to the Empire about your existence, that would be mutually assured destruction, so you were finding little reason to continue your ‘hangouts’ with him and you were beginning to worry if you were impacting the plot too much, god forbid your existence becomes the reason he survives.
So, you’re going to Earth, to hide yourself being the bigger, flashing target that was Mark Grayson. Let him deal with Conquest when the time came.
…and maybe you missed having a home. And the PlayStation, you definitely missed that.
And after years of having Conquest rough you up (break your bones and rupture your organs) to test your might, you weren’t looking forward to him trying to give you some type of sick ‘becoming an adult’ beating.
So, you told Thaedus you were going on leave, a vacation, really. You needed a break from the continued mess that was your life. What better than reliving the mess that was your past life instead? When your biggest worries were meeting the disappointment of your parents rather than having to placate your colonizer father.
“You want to go to Earth…? The planet that inhabits the only other half-Viltrumite we know of, that is currently the Empire’s main focus?” Thaedus blinks at you. "For fun?"
“What, I’m not allowed to sightsee? Take a load off? I see, so I don’t even have the right to take time off! I mean, I’m already a child soldier so I might as well be under Thragg’s rule—“
“And that’s the only reason?” Your fellow Viltrumite interrupts.
“What? Worried I’m going there to revive our dying civilization with Nolan’s son?” you tilt your head, smiling blandly.
And the conversation ended pretty quickly, after that. Not before he tried to once again ask you to bring your sperm doner over to your side. Which was another hard no. You were not going to mess with canon.
At least Allen seemed a little more thrilled.
“They really do grow up so fast,” Allen wipes a tear from his eye. “But, look at you, finally putting yourself out there, getting some work-life balance! Earth will love you! Well, some of them are pretty paranoid after the whole ‘Viltrumite killing thousands’ thing, but you’ll be fine! Just be yourself! Well, maybe not ‘yourself’—“
“Worried?” You tease.
“No, not at all!” He laughs nervously, “It’s just that sometimes you can be just a teensy bit…mean? Which I love! Great banter between us! It’s our thing! But, maybe, the Earthlings will see it as psychological warfare…?”
“Me? Mean? I wouldn’t say that, in fact, others would describe me as nothing but pleasant!” You chortle, disregarding everything he said, and Allen awkwardly joins you, muttering something under his breath that suspiciously sounded like a prayer.
*
Allen told you to just hang around the moon and someone would pop up to greet you. You hope it isn’t the Immortal.
You internally curse when the Immortal appears, rage clear on his face as he shoot’s up, ready to attack. How embarrassing of him, really.
You tackle him back into Earth’s stratosphere in a sudden burst of speed, breathing in sweet, probably polluted air.
“Take me to your leader?” You ask, arms stilled wrapped around his shoulders. “Or better yet, have him head over to me. A welcoming committee would be nice.”
He only lets out another shout, throwing a punch towards your face, so you grab his arm, throwing him over your shoulder before deigning to fly away then waste any more of your time trying to talk to a knockoff…Vandal Savage?
You instead head to New York City, normally known as a magnet for trouble, in any other reality than this one. You definitely stand out in your Coalition uniform, but people barely spare you a second glance from the park bench you’ve currently claimed as yours.
You watch a group of nearby pigeons fight over a hot dog bun before a presence blinks next to you. Honestly, Cecil’s teleportation was comparatively primitive to other civilizations you’ve come across. A lot more wasteful too.
A moment of silence passes and you can at least commend him for taking a seat next to you. You’re sure that he has a bunch of weapons and satellites honed in on you, but it’s brave of him regardless. Maybe you should thank Allen for opening a bridge in the first place. You doubt he’d be as chill if you weren’t wearing your uniform.
“So, I hear you have a Viltrumite problem,” you start, smiling.
“And I should assume you’re not here to add on to that?” He asks wryly. “Not here to spread word of the Viltrum Empire?”
You laughed as if he actually said something funny, “You know that not all of us were raised like that. No, there are outliers that weren’t indoctrinated from birth. Not of pure blood. Me…and Nolan’s kid. Is he too busy to say hi?”
“Extremely.” He narrows his eyes at you, and you can tell you’ve unsettled him. Oh, Mark wasn’t here was he? Looks like little Oliver would be arriving soon.
He meets your gaze, “I’m going to be blunt. I already figured you weren’t a hostile force because of your ‘friend’ already popping by, but I thought your little group was too busy to grant us any aid. So tell me this. What the hell are you doing here? You’ve already gave everyone a heart attack, to do what? Watch birds fight?”
“I’m on vacation,” you reply brightly.
He stares at you. “You’re here…on vacation.”
“Yeah, Allen mentioned Earth was an interesting place, if not a bit…behind. My old planet wasn’t too different actually! I mean before we started stripping it for resources. Don’t worry, everyone was already dead,” you continue. “Honestly, it feels nostalgic being here. In more ways than one.”
“For some reason, I don’t believe you and believe you at the same.” The man rubs his face tiredly, but you don’t take it as him letting his guard down. It’s probably a signal for something, you’re guessing.
“I’m being pretty polite, you know. I could have just came here undetected. I’m fast enough and I have the tech for it, but I wanted to meet you,” you admit, still smiling, though you doubted it was comforting. “You’re in a pretty tough position here, friend. Viltrum believes you can help replenish what they lost and the only reason they haven’t is because Earth is continuously racked with…internal issues. And they trusted Nolan, too much, a mistake you guys made too. Your strongest fighter would die to any Viltrumite, including me. Honestly, feels like you guys just have horrible luck. And it’s not going to get any better.”
“So what? The Coalition is going to back us up now? From what I’ve heard you guys haven’t had much luck against the Viltrumites either,” he retorts and you laugh again, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him against your side. You can feel his tension despite his expression not changing. You doubt he’s ever been manhandled like this. “…awfully friendly, aren’t you?”
You’re being mean. But you have a lot of frustration that you aren’t able to take out against the one that wronged you. So, yes, you’re being a bully right now, making his weak, little heart almost go out, but you’ll make up for it. Someday.
You wonder if Donald is shitting himself right now. “I’ve killed two of them before. Viltrumites, that is.”
“Two?” He sounds unimpressed, but you can tell you only raised your danger level.
“Believe it or not, it was a major loss for them. Painted a target on my head the first time, the second time, they started getting a bit nervous,” you share, “The only way to kill one of us is to be stronger. Plain and simple.”
You’re lying a bit there, but you’re not about to share your weaknesses with him of all people.
“Roundabout way to sell yourself, I thought you were here to…relax,” he says, shifting in your grasp.
“I am, but even off duty, I took an oath to protect, especially when Viltrumites are involved. Don’t think of me as an enemy or something you need to worry about. If they come, I’ll help. And if I’m not fighting whoever they send, and they will send someone, I’ll just be enjoying the sights.” You pat his shoulder before pulling away. “I think we’ll become great friends…sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Cecil.” He’s playing nice, at least. “You can stay, we’ll even fund your…activities. But, the only way you involve yourself in any altercation, you wait for my call. Trust that you’ll be met with immediate consequences if you act out.”
With those final words, he’s gone. You’re amused that he only threatened you after you let go of him. He was definitely placating you the same way you did for your father.
“Some clothes and currency would be nice?” You call out to the sky, aware you’d be monitored during your stay. Voyeurs.
You were definitely going to take advantage of the taxpayers. Sorry, Americans.
*
You let out a sigh of contentment as you emerged from the ocean, heading back to where you left your towel. You’ve seen a lot of beaches over the years, but you never had the chance to actually enjoy any of them. So you figured you’d make sure of a private beach in Australia, uncaring of the actual owners.
Right as you bent down to pick up your towel, you had to dodge an incoming punch from the protagonist himself. Wow, he just got back on Earth and he came to visit you. You’re honoured.
“This isn’t your planet—“ you know he was about to make a speech about how colonization is bad, but he pauses, mouth agape as he takes in your form.
You meet his gaze, tilting your head. Ah, you understand now. In your last life, you weren’t a big fan of revealing outfits, but after interacting with a variety of cultures and species, you were comfortable in your skin, meaning sometimes you liked to wear sexy bikinis that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Yes?” You smile.
“Uh, you, uh, I’m not—you’re a Viltrumite!” He barely gets out, obviously going red under his mask.
“You definitely didn’t let Cecil finish before hunting me down, did you? And did he really give you my location before at least saying I’m a friendly Viltrumite like you?” You pout, crossing your arms, already sure Cecil is shouting into his earpiece.
“You—yeah, he’s bringing me up to speed now,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re friends with Allen? He didn’t mention you…like at all.”
“Viltrumites aren’t something you can freely talk about,” you reply, “I’m sure you can guess why.”
“Heh, yeah, for sure,” he says awkwardly.
When you don’t say anything, he speaks up again, “You, uh, don’t seem that different from a human. My mom said even my dad took a while to get used to Earth. But you look great— like you’re doing great!”
“Well, compared to the Empire, the Coalition is all about diversity. They made sure I wasn’t an emotionally constipated killer.” You take pity on him and ignore his slip up. A part of you wants to mess with him a bit more, mostly out of envy for him having a human mom and an actual childhood, but that’s twisted even for you. “Did you want to join me?”
Okay, maybe you did have it in you.
“Oh, me? Wow, that’s, wait, no, I have a girlfriend! Oh my god, Amber,” he starts to mumble to himself guiltily. Did he come see you before his girlfriend? You’re flattered, even thought those two are on the brink of a breakup.
“You should get comfortable having me around, Mark.” You mention casually, “Cecil wants me to help whip you into shape. Allen mentioned you were a late bloomer.”
His cheeks flush again much to your glee. “You? But you’re—“
“Doubting me, are you?” In an instant, you’re behind him, kicking his knee in, so he stumbles before whipping around to face you.
Oddly enough rather than offence, he’s giving you the same stupid look as earlier. You look done and let out an ‘ah’. You turn around, arm covering your now bare chest. You weren’t that secure.
“Can you pass me my top?”
In a flash, he’s holding up the piece of fabric, his other hand covering his goggles. For that act of kindness, you pretend not to notice how affected he is by the sight of your tits. Honestly, he’s acting like he’s a virgin, which you know he is not!
*
You’re having the most fun you’ve had in a while, or maybe even the most fun you’ve had in this life.
You get to laze around, eat good food, beat the shit out of Mark for ‘training purposes’. Going on vacation really was the best, especially since you were basically waiting to get drafted to fight in a war. Right now, the best thing to do is nothing.
“You don’t pull punches, do you?” Mark hovers above where you’re perched on a cliffside, watching the sunset after hours of tossing him around.
“That’s what makes me so good at my job,” you grin up at him. Surprisingly, he smiles back at you. You guess being associated with Allen is like a ‘get-out-of-jail’ card here. Well, for now.
“You sure about that? You just smack me around and yell ‘dodge this’,” he teases. “By the way, you’re supposed to warn me before you hit me, not after!”
“I’m Pavlov-ing you. In a good way,” you clarify.
“I don’t thinking saying it’s the ‘good way’ actually makes it good.”
“Hmm, yeah, I guess you’re—dodge this!”
*
“He smells like grape juice,” you breathe, hugging the purple toddler to your chest.
“He doesn’t smell like grape juice just because he’s purple,” Mark retorts, crossing his arms as he watches you nuzzle your face into Oliver’s hair. “I don’t get why you wanted to see him.”
“He’s another halfie, we’re like a super minority right now,” you explain, “And I didn’t really see too many kids growing up.”
“How old are you?” Mark asks suddenly before backtracking, “Oh, wait is that rude to ask? I don’t mean it in a bad way, just curious if, uh, I’ll shut up now.”
“Worried I’m as old as your mom?” You ask. “No, I only recently entered adulthood like you.”
“Cool, cool, cool.” Mark nods, attempting to appear casual. “So, uh, me and Amber broke up.”
That’s earlier than you thought it would happen.
“Why?”
“I’m going to drop out of Upstate, I barely have enough time with the super hero gig and training, as is, forget about actually being able to be there for her. It wasn’t fair to her,” Mark admits. “It felt like we were holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“You did sound like a bad partner,” you hum and he shoots you a betrayed look. “But, life isn’t so simple for you. You’ll find your peace eventually, Mark.”
You’ve seen it, after all.
“Oh, uh, thanks.” He rubs his neck sheepishly. It’s a cute habit, you hope it’s one he keeps even if it seems unlikely.
*
“—are you okay?” Mark appears in your vision, bloodied and bruised. “You…scared her off? Uh, asserted your dominance?”
“I’m not a dog,” you grumble, lifting yourself from the sand, as he collapses to sit beside you. “But, yeah, Anissa, was it? Older than us, way older. Any further confrontation between us would have led to more serious injury, so she cut her losses and left. Wish I could have bashed her head in permanently, but there’s always next time. If she was just a little slower…”
“You guys were faster than I thought was possible,” he shakes his head ruefully.
“Experience does count for something. At least, you’re good at taking a beating,” you console.
“Yeah, that definitely makes me feel better.”
“That’s what I’m here for; pina coladas and emotional support,” you grin mockingly before your face falls back into neutral dissatisfaction.
Mark pats your arm, “You’ll get her next time.”
*
“Wow, you really suck at this,” Oliver remarks, watching your character die for the nth time, the two of you sitting on the floor, engaged in the most broken game of all time. You'd rather play a RPG.
“Why do you even like playing shooters? Bullets are literally the most useless thing in space,” you mumble, tossing your controller away.
“Why do you keep playing with my brother when I’m the one that invited you over?” Mark wonders, slumped on the couch behind you.
“She just likes me better,” Oliver brags. “How long are you here for anyway? You said you were just on leave.”
“I’ve literally never taken any day offs, so like ten years, I guess. Or whenever they’re planning to take out the remaining Viltrumites,” you shrug, prompting Oliver to starting ranting about how he’s going to get the most takedowns.
“What are you going to do when it’s over? When there’s no threat?” Mark asks suddenly.
“What? Like, universal peace? I guess the same thing I’m doing right now,” you answer, unsure why he looks so pleased. Dork.
“Then I guess I’ll have to get to work,” he says as if he could just achieve it like that. Well, he would, but doesn’t know that.
“Maybe win a fight first.”
“Ohhhh!”
“Shut up, Oliver.”
*
Shit was going down. It was the average Ao3 user’s wet dream. Dozens of morally dubious Marks fucking everything up.
And, you were having your (Y/N) moment. And letting out some steam through violence. You can only blame your genetics.
“I’m gonna be real with you, babe, this is the most fun I’ve ever had,” a variant wearing a mask without lenses, revealing stupid Bambi eyes, admits, nose bleeding, staining his teeth red when he smiles.
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush,” you giggle after bringing a knee to his face.
“No, really! I thought the only kinda cool thing I could do was kill the Guardians again, but that was a bust! When you tackled me into a mountain, I think I got, like, a gratitude boner or something!” He exclaims, what a manic sweetheart he is. And he should be grateful, you saved him from having to survive the horrors alongside Darkwing Jr.
“Wow, you’re actually being serious about the boner thing,” you comment, doing your best to look into his eyes, and not at his—
“What can I say? You just do it for me, baby, maybe it’s your penchant for punching the shit out of me. Or maybe it’s those pretty legs of yours,” he admits shamelessly, “Actually, do you own any fishnet—“
You punch him into the ground and watch him bounce, but he only lifts his head to look at you like a lovesick puppy. “Marry me?
Okay, that’s enough. The sadomasochism thing was mostly a joke. He can get cannibalized. You’re pretty sure Rex is about to sacrifice himself and take that as an excuse to dip.
*
The day you’ve been dreading. Conquest’s arrival, and you do not want to stand ready for it.
People (and dogs) are going to die. Mark and Eve are going to get mutilated. And you don’t think you can live with that happening on your watch.
So when Cecil calls you for backup, you don’t ignore him. You cry a little, but you go.
When you see him about to tear Oliver in half, you dive down from the sky, landing a kick against his back, forcing him to drop Oliver, you’re barely able to catch him, watching Conquest land a couple feet away.
“That’s enough,” you declare, gently setting the boy down for retrieval, trusting Cecil to take care of him, and approach your father.
“It looks like you’ve improved at hide and seek, it’s been months since I’ve seen you, and you’re here? Your softness…I can only take responsibility for it,” he tells you, quiet compared to the devastation around you. His hand cradles your cheek when you’re close enough, gentler than he’s ever been with you. You raise an eyebrow at the absurdity. Did he miss you that much?
“That’s right, it’s your fault. You could have taken me in at any time, let me be molded into a ‘true Viltrumite’, but you didn’t. Why? All that loyalty to them but you falter now? I don’t understand,” you admit. “Families don’t exist for our people. You want me to be strong, but not enough that I be trained like the rest of you.”
“You were the only one to ever smile at me,” he states simply.
You really hated when you felt bad for him.
Your little moment is interrupted when you hear Mark shout.
“Get away from her!” You raise a hand, stopping his charge as he stares at you in confusion.
“Father, what are you doing? I thought maybe you wanted me to be the one to kill you, but it’s that not that,” you exhale steadily before continuing, “The day you didn’t kill me or take me, you became a traitor. You don’t care about the Empire, clearly, and based on the way you keep following me around like a sad, old dog, there’s more to you than just wanting to fight. What do you want?”
“I want you to live as you always have, without the influence of anyone but myself,” he says. “That way, you can still bear to look at me. That matters more than anything else. Treachery or even destroying this planet, it doesn't matter what I do, so you must remain as yourself.”
That’s almost sweet.
“I came here to drench myself in blood, but now, I will crush this planet against my heel, even if it’s against the Empire’s wishes, for attaching itself to you like a parasite, wasting away your potential and time,” he vows. “I will liberate you from this weakness.”
What?
“What!?” Mark, who was previously stuck in a shellshocked state, shouts.
Your father turns back to Mark, glee gone from his face, replaced with a look of loathing. Before he can move, you wrap your arms around him, feeling him stiffen in shock, as he stares down at you.
“Father! Dad! Dad, you’re right, I’ve gotten attached to this place, for better or worse. Maybe that makes me weak. But, I’m okay with that,” you nervously ramble, clutching onto the man like a lifeline, even thought you have to resist the urge to start shaking. You need to come up with something quick. “The truth is…that I want to start a life here. On a planet where blood and bonds ties us together, where families are forged. Because I’m…”
You silently apologize to Mark.
“I’m with child. Nolan’s son is the father,” you lie, looking your father in the eye. “Here, parents raise their child. They spend every day with them. And…and grandparents are very involved! They just pop up and spoil their grandkids…and that’s totally something I want.”
“A child?” Your father brokenly gasps, looking back at Oliver’s battered form.
“No, that’s not—obviously not! I meant, in my womb, dad!” You yell, pulling away.
He stares at your stomach like you have a bomb strapped to you. He stumbles back before flying away, concrete breaking under the impact. You wonder if canon even matters anymore.
You’ve saved thousands, but at what cost?
Mark finally regains the ability to speak, “We’re pregnant!?”
“I lie when I'm scared, Mark! You should know that!”
*
When you exit the washroom after a very long shower, you’re not surprised to find Mark in your hotel suite, awkward lounging on your bed, staring a bit too long at your fluffy bathrobe for it to be an admiring gaze.
“How was Rex’s going away party?” You ask, sitting next to him, crossing your bare legs.
“Great, I’m happy for him. They missed you, actually. Rex wanted to thank you for taking down that variant,” he smiles, and you take note that most of his injuries have already healed. You stopped the worst of it. “Rae too, looks like they’re a thing now. Didn’t see that coming.”
You hum, an urge to bully him hitting you. You turn to face him, “Do you want to have sex?”
“S-shouldn’t I buy you dinner or take you to a movie first?” He blurts out.
“You wanna take me out?” You ask.
“Yes, of course, I think we’re doing things a little…out of order?” He says. “I mean, sex is also, hmn, good. Really good.
“I was just thinking you should put a baby in me before Conquest comes back,” you explain casually. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I figured we might as well go along with it.”
He chokes, and you bite back a smile.
He’s too easy.
“You don’t have to. It’s a better alternative than fighting him, but we can figure it out,” you continue, “Maybe we could—“
You’re cut off when he presses his lips against yours, hands cradling the back of your head. Any noise you make is swallowed by him. He pulls away, nose brushing against yours.
“Let’s do it,” he declares.
“Uh, I think your line is supposed to be ‘that’s crazy’ or ‘how can we have a baby’,” you reply, face feeling hot at his sudden boldness.
“I mean, it’s like you said, it’s the best alternative. I’d rather have Grandpa Conquest showing up than the bloodthirsty version,” he says, hand already moving to untie your robe.
“Dude, no way do you want a baby,” you blanch. Is this a game of chicken? Are you losing said game of chicken?
“We can at least try,” he says dragging you further up the bed. “And we can figure out the money thing. I wouldn't let the mother of my child go hungry."
“Well, uh, I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” you bite your lip before he pushes you down by the shoulders, climbing atop you, pressing his mouth against your neck.
“We’re doing this for Earth,” he mumbles in between his sucking and biting.
“For peace,” you agree, a little breathless.
This was either going to cause Cecil a stroke or be some good wank material.
*
“I think I might be a little obsessed with you,” he admits from in between your thighs, face drenched.
Join the club, you think delirious.
Mc’s mom looking up from hell to see Conquest doing the same thing he shamed her for; loving their daughter: I’m going to rip his dick off
*
Mc:
Thaedus: what have you done
*
Cecil, after meeting mc: mass suicide?
*
Mc, bullying Cecil because she can’t kill her dad: damn I need therapy
Mc: I’m going to physically intimidate that old man again.
*
Mc, sobbing after hearing someone sing ‘happy birthday’:
Mark, the ‘someone’: I’m…sorry??
*
Mark: so you’re not pregnant 😔
Oliver, lying a couple feet away, bleeding out: can you do this shit somewhere else
*
Mark: why is that variant still here…and why is he holding roses
Mc: should we keep him as a dog or something
Mark: no??
*
GDA admins, after basically creating a sex tape: delete…or save🤭
*
Conquest: where is the womb??? Where is my grandchild being held!?
I feel like whenever I come up with a title before I actually write a fic, I end up changing everything and doing a rewrite, which is what happened here…I decided to make mc apart of the coalition rather than the empire, creating a more estranged relationship, the only way love could form since it would impossible if mc was raised the Viltrumite way…anyone still around from when I made the original poll? I prefer this version more since there’s more freedom to write the mcs personality when they’re not part of a regime
Anyway even the style of the fic changed from being manwha adjacent to becoming a mix of Gintama/adult swin humour lol
But yay over 6.6k words ughh lemme know about any errors, I’m so bad at editing
Nolan had no interest in participating in the eradication of his species, betrayer that he was, he was only doing a friend a favour, even if Allen was trying to convince him, otherwise.
It was harder and easier than he thought it would be, trying to make amends, looking at the destruction he layed simply because it was an order.
He wondered how simply his own beliefs wavered just because of Earth. If it was possible that any other Viltrumite could—
His thoughts stuttered as he dodges what should have been a fatal blow…from Conquest.
“Nolan,” the oldest Viltrumite growls animalistic in every right of the word.
“Woah, hey, man,” Allen intervenes, nervously bringing his hands up, “If you’re looking for her then—“
“I will rip your stomach out and become…the only grandfather,” Conquest vows, his usual glee replaced with a solemn determination.
Nolan and Allen exchange gazes.
What the fuck?
*
“Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” you scold, nestled in your…lover? Boyfriend? Companion’s side.
“We broke the bed,” he retorts smugly.
“You really are a taxpayers worst nightmare,” you mumble.
“Is that any way to speak to the father of your child—!? Ow! No pinching!”
No, wait… Debbie is Conquest’s true rival. She can be warm, he… not so much. Imagine Conquest deciding Debbie must teach him how to be a good grandparent.
Poor Nolan, maybe Debbie and Conquest form their own coalition and he beats Nolan for her.
human form reveal! he wears his hair in a variety of styles, which include: whatever Sam or Tuck want to do that day (if left alone he will simply do nothing and get it caught in everything)
