Death By Narcisstick

I would kick myself but I'm procrastinating other things first.

[theslowestartist]

My recom baby with his mama, everyone can't stop staring at him

[theslowestartist]

Mama Varang helping her son with his ash paint❤️

His name is Javier, my recom oc

[deathbynarcisstick]

[deathbynarcisstick]

After being betrayed by his friends and handed over to the GI by his family, Danny truly learned why so many ghosts hated the living.

The pain was nothing new, but these people from the scientist to the guards, he was lesser than a lab rat.

They would poke him and prop him on the dissection table and when he thought he was alone, the guards would come and Danny would only hope that they came to give him cruel words and not”hang out”.

He was hoping at least somebody would help him, that somebody cared enough to come and save him.

It has been a long time. He could only tremble as the guard came closer.

[deathbynarcisstick]

Sol is the youngest recom. Gets distracted quite easily and has a child like wonder when given colours.

He is a paramedic and the pyro of the team. He likes to keep the discarded colours and powders that the Mangkwan bring from their raides.

Has a weird friendship with one of the Mangkawan teams and can be seen painting their backs while they do tasks or rest.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Superman (possibly the 2025 version if you write for him,but any is fine) x Homelander! Reader? (Both powers and personality are the same as Homelander)

Love your blog btw,have been following you since forever!!

Sending you many platonic hugs and kisses❤

Clack Kent (2025) x Homelander male reader 

Headcanons 

I stand by my belief that Homelander will never be as strong as Superman, it just adds to his character and his whole... wanting to be the strongest thing. Homelander is also weaker than omni-man, and def weaker than like, Metro man from megamind. He's still strong of course, but I like this. 

I listened to Punkrocker on repeat as I wrote this. It's still one of my comfort songs. 

If we’re going off reader being as close to og Homelander as possible, then you were created by the government, and they’ve been using you to push propaganda and all that. 

And maybe you were at the top, the strongest (at least in the eyes of the media), and the one seen as “americas hope”, until Superman appears. 

He's like you in many ways, similar powers, similar suit, similar schtick. Except he’s better than you in every single way. Not only is he stronger than you, but he’s faster, kinder, more handsome, the public LOVES him, where they fear you more. 

It would get under your skin the very moment he appeared in the media, just... saving people. You've been groomed your entire life to fit this box that your handlers have put you in, and now this punk is doing everything you were MADE for, and better. 

Maybe part of you is so incredibly angry because he does all this, of his own free will. You've obviously never had a choice on who you are, what you do, or where you go. So, seeing someone so strong and so kind? Oh, it makes your blood boil. 

I don’t think you are popular with other heroes either. No hero ‘group’ have ever thought about inviting you, and it’s kinda known in the business that you aren’t actually that good of a guy. 

Plus, you’re in the government’s pocket. So, being near you would result in leaked identities and whatnot, nobody wants that. 

When Clark first heard of you, he had to have thought you were a fellow kryptonian. You had to be, right? You'd been a hero longer than him, and you have similar powers, so it can’t all be a coincidence. 

Or well, that's what Clark hopes, until Kara and the robots at the fortress show him proof that you aren’t. 

I imagine the super robots don’t talk too nicely about you either, because of how... Nasty can be. 

To most of the hero community you ride the line of hero and villain, because they know you aren’t a good person, but you still stop a lot of bad things from happening, even if that's only on American soil, or allies of such. 

Being like Homelander also means you wouldn’t have cared at all about the same war and people as Clark. Being raised in a lab means you have close to no empathy, and to you they’re just insects. 

In reality, the first time you guys really meet has to be Clark stopping you from letting a lot of people die, because they pissed you off, or because the government wanted it.

 

Clark is such a sweet guy that he wouldn’t want to fight, even with how horrible you are, how nasty, mean and downright evil you are at times. 

You being grown in a lab is a government secret, so Clark wouldn’t know, but he can assume that the American Dream background the public knowns isn’t real.  

He's not just a journalist as a cover, he can read between the lines, especially in the way you seem to crackle under positive parental attention, even just the smallest crumb. 

And maybe Clark wants to get to know the real you, no matter how much his friends advice him not to. There has to be good in you, he’s sure of it, or else you wouldn’t keep helping people. 

Along the way, you two don’t become downright friends? But there's... something. You don’t wanna rip him apart anymore, and Clark actually gets to hold a conversation with you. 

His theory about your family seems to hit the spot when he brings you some of his Ma’s homemade pie, because the news said it was your birthday. And it's not like you know when your real birthday is.

Nobody has ever given you a gift that wasn’t without expectations, or for media. So, Clark bringing you something as small as a piece of pie makes your entire body hurt. 

To Clark is almost feels like seeing a child break, a tall, very powerful child, cloaked in a suit made to copy the American flag.  

Your body tenses, your eyes water, and you sneer like you always do to hide your actual emotions. There are comments made from you about not wanting some disgusting useless piece of pie, but you don’t actually throw it away. Instead, you almost cling to it like a teddy you never had. 

See, I believe that Homelander, the one in the show, age regresses as a response to trauma. But some people are uncomfortable with even the mention, so I won’t go more into detail here. Just know it's kinda there, in spirit, in my mind. (feel free to ask me about it though,,,,)

Just know that Clark starts to feel more for you after this point, after seeing all your defenses clamp back up, and how lost you seem at someone actually just wanting to be nice to you. 

Clark being such a kind person doesn’t help, as he starts searching you out more, hell. Maybe he even invites you to Metropolis. And instead of fighting a big evil, he as Superman invites you for ice cream.  

You don’t stop being a bad person, or well, more like a violent person. You don’t actively search for people to kill anymore. And you grow more defiant with your handlers. 

It's like seeing Clark go on and still be himself, so kind and open, so damn hopeful for the world, makes something inside you wake up. 

What makes up isn’t some heroic justice or need to serve. It's more a “I can live for me, and nobody else. I can be my own person”.  

Around this time, I can’t help but think Clark, as himself, would start researching the government. Soon enough, Lois and Jimmy are on it too.  

At first they wanna know why Clark is researching you of all people, and he covers it by saying something along the lines of “he just seems so... trapped. You know?” and pulling up public government records that make no sense. 

Even better if all their research is exposed to the public on the morning of the day you finally snap and just kill them all, your handlers, that is. The only reason you don’t kill the entire government and everyone who knew about your creation and life, is because Clark arrives just in time. 

Here he learns it’s even worse than what he and the others have found out. From the underground facilities, to the torture, to the extreme neglect and propaganda you’ve been fed your entire life.

 

Now, I'm not too sure how Clark and Homelander reader would ever be romantic. It could be platonic or romantic, but either way, you need a lot of healing and work. 

You obviously will never become like Clark. You're too jaded by the world and all the evil in it. Shit, you might even stop being a hero completely. The world has no meaning to you, and it can all burn to the ground. 

But you do like Martha and Jonathan. And you do like how Martha brushes your hair back and coos at you sometimes, or how Jonathan pats your back and calls you sport. 

So yeah, you live with the Kents. You end up with a disguise like Clark’s because everyone has seen the face of Homelander, and Clark feels like his parents are the right people to show you that there is still love and kindness to be found. 

Chances are he’ll bring you to the fortress too, even though you aren’t technically a kryptonian. 

To Clark, having you is a strange comfort. Kara and the robots know all about Krypton, have memories and experiences, so on and so forth. But you? You were raised on earth, like him, and you have powers, like him.  

In his mind you guys are earths kryptonians, because you’re similar in the ways that matter. 

It takes a while, but I imagine Kara will come to like you too, and Krypto? He liked you the moment he realized he could swing you around with no problem.  

They also discover that Krypto is great at helping you calm down from panic attacks or the blind anger you get swallowed by sometimes. Who wouldn’t wanna pet a good pupper like Krypto? 

[tmswritesfanfics]

hey! I have a tiny request

What would you think the Invincible!Variants would react if they see an Invincible!Reader?

Like, on their universes (Y/N) would be dead but it just happens that in one of the few universe where they are alive is one where she is invincible and now she is fighting in the invincible wars with them :D

(it’s my first request so I’m kinda confused on how it works 😔)

a/n: I went for a sillier approach with this one so it’s different from my usual narrative style (and by extension, sloppier than I would’ve wanted) but it was so much fun to write. I also took a few liberties with how Reader is able to fight because I only write Y/N as an OP baddie or an Everyman. There are no in-betweens in my delusions. Basically, she uses technology to fight, but she wears the Invincible colors in honor of her dead Mark. Happy reading.

Angstrom Levy watched as the mirror images of his sworn enemy gathered together. 

“I think we have all the Mark Graysons that we need.”

“Great.” The one whose cowl lacked any lenses cupped his fist. “Time to spill some blood.”

“Not so fast.”

“What?”

One last portal shimmered to life next to Angstrom and from it stepped out someone who was most definitely not Mark Grayson.

Angstrom motioned towards you. “Invincibles, meet Invincible.”

You wore a pair of goggles over your yellow cowl and there was a utility belt around your waist. You looked more like a cosplayer than a genuine Invincible. 

You were you but you were not you. Not the one they knew and loved and lost. The person they adored would have never donned such an outfit.

You raised a weak hand in salutation. A wry smile offered. “Hi there.” 

Every single version of the man tensed with emotion, their fists clenching beside them. Some of them stared at you, frozen. Others wanted to slam the teleporting freak to the wall.

“What’s the meaning of this, Angstrom!?”

“You said you only needed Mark Graysons, so–”

“–why is my dead wife here?”

Angstrom motioned for them to cool themselves. “I needed Invincibles. This one isn’t like any of you, but she took up the mantle when he died.”

Silence fell over the room.

Then, the one with a Mohawk protested, “She doesn’t belong here. She’s still just a human, isn’t she? Wearing a colorful costume won’t change that.”

You stood motionless despite his harsh words. 

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you,” Angstrom said. “She destroyed her Earth in the span of an afternoon.”

Their eyes flickered over to you, but again, you showed no emotion.

“She’s here as… back up, in case you all fail.”

Five Marks flew towards him but stopped when you stood between them. Even with these many Viltrumites, you stood firm. Without your goggles, they could see you clearly. Gaunt, nose a little different, cheeks more sunken than what they were used to. Tired. 

Angstrom smiled.

Even if these fools knew that the person they loved was gone, they couldn’t bring themselves to raise a hand against your ghost, so they backed off.

Head Cap

Oliver slammed himself against the man’s back, but the Invincible copycat merely rotated his shoulders. “Thanks, I think you fixed it,” he let out a sound of pleasure. “Now, let’s fix you.”

The boy raised his arms to guard.

Several pros came to intercept, hitting this Mark with everything they got.

Before Oliver could move to help them, pure white beams struck his saviors. He could see through the gaping holes in their torsos before they fell over. Only he and Invincible were left standing.

His brother’s lookalike lifted his head, grinning as he raised both his thumbs in approval. “Thanks for the assist, babe!” 

Oliver followed his gaze up. 

It was… it wasn’t his brother, but the woman hovering above them wore the trademark yellow, blue and black Mark used to wear. The same bug-eyed goggles covered your eyes. Your lips were in a straight line.

You landed between the two guys. 

“You don’t have to stay and help me kill this one, I got it all under control.”

You threw a disc at Oliver, and it formed a blue, transparent cube around him. Despite his efforts, he could not punch through the walls.

“Do you know who this child is?” 

Mark cocked his head.

“He’s your half-brother.”

“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, his sadistic smile turned resentful. “Dad’s other project, huh?”

“Mark couldn’t do it. He hated his brother, but even for him killing an infant was uncharted territory.”

“And he asked you to do it? What an asshole.” He sounded almost protective. 

You laughed. “He didn’t ask me to do anything, I just didn’t want him to be sad anymore.”

He stared at Oliver, still hitting the cube, even ramming his shoulder at the wall.

“...How did it feel?”

“I can’t remember to be honest, all I remember is Mark thanking me.” You recalled him holding you in his arms and kissing you all night. “Nothing else matters to me but him.” 

He snuck a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye.

You returned to the air. “The kinetic field around the kid will expire in a minute. So if you're going to kill him, be prepared."

Mark watched you fly away, fists clenching beside him as he thought about the other you, the one who was so soft she couldn’t bring herself to kill the mice in the kitchen. Gentle until the day she died. 

Flaxan Mark

One good electromagnetic pulse was all you needed to disarm the GDA. Concentrated antimatter bullets would ensure that their undead army won’t be returning. 

You decapitated Donald and Cecil in one swift motion. You didn’t have any strong feelings for either of them so there was no need for a painful death.

You watched Mark sit up, rubbing his head.

“Are you all right?” You asked, walking over to him.

He met your gaze, quiet as he examined you. 

This Mark seemed more composed than the others, more mature, too.

“I watched the footage.” You gestured around you. “You must really hate this place to gut it so mercilessly.”

He looked at you and said, “They killed you.” He raised his hands, looking at something visible only to him. “While I was gone, they took you. Wanted to see if they could use our baby to make someone better, someone more loyal to the humans.”

He closed his fists. “They deserve to burn, all of them.”

You folded your hands behind your back. There was nothing you could say to that.

No Goggles

Mark laughed maniacally as he struck down monster after monster. “Come on! You can do better than that, can't you? Come on, this is amazing! Kill me!”

A finger snapped from a distance and a bright light pierced the darkness, scaring the creatures away. “Hey, come back!”

“Mark,” called out an exasperated voice.

He gasped when you walked towards him, looking disappointed. 

He flew over to wrap his arms around you. “Shit, I wanted to talk to you earlier but there was never the right time, plus we had to destroy the whole world and all that, but God, you really are a babe wherever, or maybe whenever is the correct word–”

You pinched his lips. “We should leave first. Try to talk less, okay?”

He nodded obediently and you let go.

A portal cut open the white void, revealing a blue sky.

Before you could leave, the faintest whispers called out to you, “Mo…ther…”

Mark blinked and glanced at the corners where the darkness lingered. “Am I crazy or did those things just call you mother?”

“Yes and yes.”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the Shadow-Verse and onto the sky above Chicago.

“Whoa…” Mark looked down at his feet. “Am I walking on air? Not flying but walking?”

“Yeah.” You sat down and watched him do cartwheels. 

“How long can I keep doing this?”

“For as long as I let you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Reaaaally?” 

“You can run, jump and do all the cartwheels you want until you drop dead and you still won’t fall, not unless I let you, but I’m getting tempted so you better start flying now.”

He chuckled and sat next to you, pulling his knees to his chest. “You’re dead in my reality.”

“I know.”

“You killed yourself.”

“Is that so?”

“It really fucked me up, in the brain and stuff.” He made a swooshing motion, pointing at his temple.

“I can imagine.”

He fell silent and watched you watch the world get destroyed below you.

He then asked, “Why did those things call you mother?”

“Honestly, I don’t know why they would. In my world, it makes sense. I created them, then I carved out a piece of time and space where I could discard them when they proved useless to me.”

He blinked. “Wow. You created the Shadow-Verse?”

“Well, the one in my world, yes. As for the ones here?” You shrugged. “My hypothesis is that there was a window between the pocket dimensions, causing them to mix.”

“That’s so cool!”

“I know. And Angstrom thinks he’s all that.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“You’ve been asking a lot.”

“If you can do all this, why didn’t you just hop worlds? Get yourself a new Mark? I’d be happy to be kidnapped.”

You chuckled and then looked up at the sky. “Who knows.”

Omni-Mark and Shiesty

The two of them were ganging up on this timeline’s Mark Grayson when Eve pushed them away with a giant pink wall.

You grabbed her cape and then dragged her away from the three. “You’re dead weight to him. Stay here if you want to live,” you ordered.

When you turned around, a heavy shackle enveloped your arm, chaining you to herself with a thick fuchsia rope.

You sighed. “Truly an idiot in every reality.”

“I saw you–you’re with those guys. I don’t know why you saved me but I know that you’re bad news.”

You gave her a look that reminded Eve of an unforgiving winter. Her heart pounded violently as she struggled to breathe. She's faced death before, faced villains as strong as Mark himself, but nothing made her buckle the way you did at this moment.

She swallowed her fear despite her shaking hands. “Surrender now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll have to take you by force.” 

“Oh?” For the first time since you’ve arrived in this damned universe, you smirked, turning your whole body to face hers directly. “You’re welcome to try.”

You tapped the pink construct, shattering it into a thousand fragments. In a split second, you were pinning her down the ground. "Is that it?"

You grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to look directly into yours. “I am unimpressed.” Your goggles shone red and Eve screamed.

She rolled around the dirt, cradling her head and gasping in pain.

“Eve!”

Your suit’s electromagnetic force field flashed blue as the Invincible of this world tried to hit you. “What did you do to her?!”

“No need to look so angry,” you said, face blank. “This is a mercy compared to what I did to the other one.” That Eve died brutally, but so quickly you didn’t even get the chance to laugh. 

You then vanished from the ground, reappearing between the two hovering Marks. “Let’s go.”

Shiesty turned to you. “Why?”

“There’s no point in fighting him now, he’s going to choose her, probably hide away for a few hours.”

“What makes you think that?”

Omni-Mark answered instead, looking straight at you, "Because we would've chosen you if we were in his place."

Aftermath

All of the Marks kept their eyes on you while they waited for Angstrom. Some of them had the decency to be subtle. Others, like the adorable little freak who got stuck in the Shadow-Verse, looked just about ready to hump you.

Bored, you turned your attention to the Mark without a mask, suit tainted with blood. “You look at me differently than the others do.”

His hands twitched but he kept them close together in front of him as he answered, “It’s just… you weren’t a woman where I come from.”

“How fascinating. Not outside the realm of probability though. If anything, me being a girl in these guys' universes is odd.”

He tilted his head. How cute.

“Contrary to popular belief, a child’s biological sex is not a 50/50 chance. It’s slightly more likely to be a boy than a girl.” You leaned towards him. “Tell me, was I any handsome?”

Taken aback, he blinked. Then he closed his eyes, smiling before he faced you again. “You’re always breathtaking.”

Your brow twitched and you looked away, crossing your arms.

The others watched, unhappy. Various emotions layered onto each other, growing heavier with the silence. 

“What’s taking him so long?” 

Tired of waiting, you folded one leg over the other. A whole tea set manifested before you, turning the tense silence into awkward awe.

Shiesty floated closer to you while you dropped a sugar cube into your teacup. “Hey, uh, I didn't get to ask earlier, but what the Hell did you do to Eve?”

The teacups dispersed, delivering themselves to the different variants. Too confused to do anything else, they accepted their shares. The little jar containing sugar cubes bounced between them, a parade of silver teaspoons right behind it. A three tier platter stayed in the middle of the circle they formed.

Shiesty took a mini quiche and gave it a taste.

The veil fluttered, revealing a slither of his jaw. 

Unconsciously, you reached over to trace the corner of his face. 

He flinched and you pulled back. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I last saw Mark this close. Anyway,” you started, gently blowing on the tea, “I took away her powers.”

“I see.” He plopped a sugar cube into his cup before he realized what you just said. “What? You can do that? All you did was flash a red light at her!”

Omni-Mark stared at his tea for a while. He then said, “You lobotomized her.”

“I did.” 

The other Marks turned to you. “What?”

Shiesty gave them a brief explanation of what happened. “You should’ve seen it, it was hella hilarious–and hot. The other guy couldn’t even land a punch.”

“Whoa, backup.” It was Mohawk this time. “Lobotomized her? As in brain surgery? In the field?”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t that complicated.” You watched a superhero do it before–granted, it was a cartoon but it gave you the idea for a powerful skill. 

You opened your palm, showing a holographic display of the human brain. “Superhumans are just mutated humans, and for someone like Eve whose mutation is psionic-based, all I needed to do was find the abnormal gyri in her brain that differentiate hers from that of ordinary people.” Several portions of the brain glowed. “My goggles can let me see through things, like human skulls, and they’re built with a precision laser perfect for neurosurgery.” 

“I don’t get it,” Omni-Mark said. “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

You traced the rim of your teacup. “Eve, like many heroes, ties her self-worth and identity to her powers. I already killed her before. I didn’t feel anything…”

You smiled at them, it was a sweet and innocent smile that took them back to nicer times. “Rather than murder, forcing her to live a life where she is no longer special feels more satisfying. For someone like her, losing her gift must feel like the sky is falling.” You do regret not being there to see her face when she realizes what happened. Will she cry? Scream some more? Fall into despair? 

You covered your curling mouth. “Ah, what a shame.”

a/n: I'm sorry, I couldn't include all the Marks, and I'm really sorry for the sloppy writing. I was going to write more scenes, specifically for Retro/Gogglesinvincible/the one who Rex killed, but I wrote this between breaks and I really wanted to post it immediately.

Dear Readers, if you have any questions or further requests, feel free to send them now because i will be closing my ask box this upcoming Sunday. MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

[finvfn]

This is Molly Muffin from a non Disney film "Go West a Lucky Luke adventure" I Can't help But feel like Disney Femslash could use Someone Like Her

[oysters-aint-for-me]

this is legitimately one of my absolute favorite pieces of animation of all time

[venomsvl]

Okay but I cannot stop thinking about a Neglected!Batfamily Reader in a Project Hail Mary AU after just watching the movie last night and specifically the Batfamily finding out everything through the mission recordings years later.

Because imagine Reader leaving Gotham and eventually changing their last name. Not out of spite or anger or some huge dramatic fight.

They just... stop being a Wayne. They take their mother's maiden name, move on with their life, and nobody notices. Dick thinks Bruce is still in contact with them. Bruce thinks one of the others is. Jason assumes they're gone no contact but still in gotham and are doing fine somewhere. Tim thinks they're busy with Highschool. Damian doesn't even care because he thought they're useless and beneath him.

And meanwhile Reader becomes a middle school science teacher, earns multiple degrees, becomes one of the world's leading experts on astrophage, and somehow the Batfamily never learns any of it.

Then the astrophage crisis happens and Reader gets recruited for Project Hail Mary.

Except they don't want to go. They want to stay on Earth. They want to keep teaching. They want to stay with their students and live a normal life.

and you know that scene in the movie when they're discussing who should go after the explosion and they tell grace that why would he stay? he has nothing tying him to earth. so imagine that during the recruitment process there are background checks, psychological evaluations, investigations into every part of Reader's life, and one of the things that absolutely destroys me is the idea of the investigators concluding that Reader has no immediate family. No close relatives. No spouse. No partner. No dependents. No loved ones that would complicate deployment. Because when they search for family, they search for the surname Reader legally carries. They search for emergency contacts. Next of kin. People Reader keeps in contact with. And they find absolutely nothing.

Reader doesn't correct them either.

Because technically they're right.

The Batfamily hasn't been part of Reader's life for years.

And there are probably recordings somewhere of officials discussing how Reader is uniquely suited for the mission because there are no significant personal attachments keeping them on Earth. No family waiting for them. No loved ones who need a goodbye.

And years later Bruce is sitting in a League briefing room reading those reports and realizing that when they conducted one of the most thorough background investigations, it never connected the raeder to the Waynes at all. Reader had erased them so completely from their records that the people deciding the fate of humanity genuinely believed they had nobody.

And then Reader goes into space.

And then Reader meets Rocky.

And suddenly the recordings stop being about science and start being about family.

Because the Batfamily watches Reader learn Rocky's language. Watches Rocky learn theirs. Watches them struggle to communicate and then slowly understand each other. Watches them study astrophage together. Collect samples together. Capture live taumoeba together. Watch the reader risk their life to get the life sample. Make discoveries that save two entire worlds together. They watch Reader become happier and happier every time Rocky appears on screen and it slowly dawns on them that this alien knows Reader better than they do.

And what really hurts is how easy it is.

Rocky doesn't need years.

Rocky doesn't need reminders.

Rocky doesn't need effort from the reader.

Rocky doesn't need someone else to tell him Reader matters.

He just decides Reader is important and never looks back.

The recordings are full of moments where they choose each other over and over again. Reader getting injured and Rocky risking his life to save them. Rocky needing help and Reader immediately dropping everything to help him. Reader waking up after almost dying and the first thing they search for is Rocky. Rocky in danger and Reader immediately putting themselves at risk. Neither of them ever hesitates.

And then the Batfamily reaches the part where Reader is finally going home.

Humanity is saved. Earth is safe. Reader has spent years alone in space and now they're finally returning. And for a brief moment everyone watching thinks this is it. This is where Reader comes back. This is where they return to Earth.

Then Reader learns about the leak.

discovers that Rocky is going to die.

And they turn around.

Immediately.

No debate. No discussion. Not even thinking thing through. No overthinking.

They just go back.

Because Rocky needs them.

Because Rocky is family.

Because leaving him behind feels like betrayal and agonizing pain.

And I think that's the moment that completely breaks the Batfamily because Reader never once talks about earth the way they talk about Rocky. They never fought for earth the way they fought for Rocky. They never looked at earth or them the way they look at Rocky. They cross the stars without hesitation for someone they love while Gotham barely gets a second thought.

Then years later the Green Lantern Corps finally finds them by chance after everyone assumed they died and everyone assumed Reader will want to come home. Why wouldn't they? Earth is their planet. But Reader doesn't want to come back. Not because they're trying to punish anyone. They just genuinely don't want to leave.

Because they have a life now.

They have a home on Erid.

They teach young Eridians. They help them understand human science. They explain radiation and astronomy and biology. They have students who adore them. They have people who rely on them. They have a community. They have Rocky.

They have a family.

And I love the idea that when the Justice League finally makes contact after green corp gave them the report, reader is completely at peace. They absentmindedly trace the scar on their forearm, the one they got when rocky saved them, the one that resembles his hand, and talk about their students the same way other people talk about their children. They talk about Erid with affection. About Rocky with fondness. About their life with happiness. And for the first time, the Batfamily realizes that Reader isn't surviving out there.

They're thriving and living and taken care of in a way they never did on earth.

So eventually Batman asks for a private conversation because surely there has to be something left tying Reader to Earth, to them.

Surely there has to be something left tying Reader to him.

And after years of regret and guilt and wishing for another chance, Bruce finally tells Reader to come home.

And Reader just looks confused.

Not angry or bitter.

Just confused.

Because they glance behind them at the city they've spent years living in. At the students waiting for their lesson. At Rocky standing nearby.

Then they look back at Bruce and ask,

"Why?"

And I think that's the worst part.

Because Reader isn't rejecting them.

They genuinely don't understand the question.

Because from Reader's perspective, they're already home.

And after watching years of recordings, after seeing Rocky choose Reader every single day without fail, after seeing an entire alien civilization embrace them, Batfamily finally understands something devastating, they where always worth the effort they dismmised and that they lost something of great value but realized to late. and now the reader is living happily on a different planet adn that they dont need them at all, they never did.

[electricgg]

Im gonna need this on my desk as soon as possible omfg

[a-998h]

Parental! Reader Masterlist

Platonic Yandere Vox x Parental! Reader

Platonic Yandere Vox showing Parental! Reader the holiday spirit

Parental! Reader during Vox Dei

Parental! Reader hurt during an Extermination

What would make Vox hypnotize Reader

[deathbynarcisstick]

[batmanshole]

crisp glass of water moodboard

[evilcarmona]

I'm sorry, but I've drawn a character outfit concept again, and to see it, you'll have to read the story that my feverish brain came up with.

---

So, you see, one day, Ra's tortured a seer a little bit (man, the old man can have hobbies, you know?) to find out that at a certain time on a certain day, the king of the dead might appear right at his Lazarus pit. After a couple more hundred years of contemplation, Ra's comes up with the perfect solution — it's the perfect moment to ally with the most powerful being in the multiverse.

But Ra's is not an option for marriage. There are reasons. Even he understands that the king may be a little offended.

Word of mouth, as time goes on, he realizes that he has a grandson. He betrayed Ra's to play hero anyway. He can always make a new heir, and this one can benefit him. (Here, you can decide whether this is an omegaverse or not. I prefer yes)

---

You see, when CW told Danny that, among other things, as a ghost prince, he would have to get married, Danny thought it was, well… like a long-term thing. It should have been a hint. One day, he gets a note that he should remember to wear a clean T-shirt and finally use the hair gel that Jazz bought him, because today he's going to meet his wife. He tells his friends, and they panic all morning. In the end, Sam suggests that CW is hinting that Danny will meet someone today who he will decide to fool around with in the future.

*music from the comedy plays as they try to determine if Danny has met anyone new during the day and what he thinks of that person*

And then Danny trips and falls into a natural portal. Damn, that's not lucky.

He immediately takes on a menacing form (who knows what's on the other side?). But there's, uh… A bunch of weird ninjas led by an old man, weird mages, and… a magic circle lights up. Oh, a forced afterlife marriage. That sucks.

Danny sees a fight going on somewhere outside and decides to stop it, but CW stops time and says that if the ritual is interrupted at this stage, the potential bride dies. But there's always a way out! He can simply dissolve the afterlife marriage when he reaches the age of majority, as it is something that the king has control over.

So, Danny sees that his fiancée is here against her will, and they're literally the same age, so he takes him away to talk in private. And then he'll bring him back, of course, to the people who are fighting for him. It should work.

(To be honest, I'm assuming that Danny will immediately reveal that he's a teenage boy in an attempt to win his fiancée over. His fiancée must be so scared! There's no need to make things worse)

(By the way, I'm assuming that Danny's intimidating form is some kind of huge space thing with a bunch of creepy eyes. I like to imagine that Damian could be sitting in his palms 🥺)

---

Mr. Lancer introduces a new student to the class. Danny sees his wife's expression and decides it's best to escape. He can do it through the window.

---

To be honest, Damian thinks his husband is the most ridiculous person in the world. Well, he's just going to have to do something about it. Divorce? What kind of divorce? There's no one who can just go and get divorced from Damian, lol

Congratulations, you've reached the sketch

Guys, if it's awkward for anyone, I like to think that they're like a month away from turning 18, lol. It would be even more fun if they were already 18, but CW was like, "lol no, you're a baby until you're at least 50." You can interpret it however you want, but please don't think about the younger characters.

[evilcarmona]

Soooo....

I just wanted to say that I apologize if this post caused anyone to feel negatively, as it was not my intention. I am glad that you are expressing your feelings in the comments.

(However, I do not intend to delete it)

[acheronlovely]

Best Friends Brother

I noticed it wasn’t popping up in general tags and felt bad for the other young Nolan enjoyers. Context: this post.

I have another Bsf’s Older Brother AU in the works with Nolan, like 10k words worth of smut, so this is an introduction to the dynamic. this needs to be proofread. I’ll come back and fix any mistakes.

and I tried out a new theme?? I’ll try to make it Acheron based soon

warnings: none… I really wanted to write smut but I’m not horny enough to do it.

Word count: 5k

The living room is quiet as the warmth of the baby bottle heats up your palm while you watch Mark. Currently, he sits on the carpet while changing the babbling baby Oliver on a towel, a new diaper and wipes in hand.

His face is pulled into a grimace the entire time while you sit on the couch, covering your nose. Even with it becoming a daily chore, nothing will ever make the half-Viltrumite get used to the process of baby changing nor you, the regular civilian.

The dark-haired male sighs in relief as he tosses the used wipes in a small plastic bag beside him along with the used diaper, finally finished with the daunting task. The brown-eyed hero rises to his feet while you protect your nose still, palm pressed against your nostrils. He whistles idly while trudging around the couch into the kitchen, dirty bag in hand, and he casually tosses it in the trash.

You then immediately point at the sink, disgruntled, and he grins at the silent message for him to wash his hands; there's no way you're letting your best friend touch anything after dealing with baby waste.

All the while, the giggling infant still lies on his back on the fluffy towel. Oliver effortlessly sits up without any assistance and turns on his side, chubby arms raised, and a small smile on his face. His round eyes shine with mirth as he silently begs to be picked up.

He’s so darn cute, you can’t take it.

The adorable baby already has your heart captured when you lean forward and grab him, babbling incoherent nonsense—the kind of baby talk Mark seems to be the only one who understands. 

The soft pressure of Oliver’s tiny finger pokes and prods at your cheek, a habit he usually does to Mark, and it makes you giggle as well.

You finally lift the warm milk to his lips, but he’s already taking the bottle from your hands eagerly. The purple-skinned baby easily holds the bottle with both hands and enthusiastically drinks his milk while relaxed in your hold.

The couch dips with extra weight, and Mark is already by your side again as he laughs at the adorable sight. He then slowly pulls the bottle from Oliver’s eager mouth, and the poor baby lets out a disappointed whine. 

He stares up at his brother with sad eyes at having his yummy nutrients abruptly taken, and your heart melts even more.

Mark boops Oliver’s nose, then slowly takes the baby out of your grip, mildly offending you because you just got to shower him in love and feed him; the older brother is obviously obsessed with caring for his little brother.

The male holds Oliver with one arm as he gently returns the bottle with a smile, keeping an eye on how much Oliver is drinking as he eagerly takes the bottle back. “You gotta slow down with the Milk, tiger. We don’t want you to choke, y’know?”

You automatically huff, and Mark lifts his head with a sheepish smile; he'll return him in a minute...

Or a couple.

Oliver is his baby brother, at the end of the day. Let him be obsessed, okay?

You point at him spitefully, making sure the next words sting in the harshest way.

“I hope his first full sentence is saying you suck."

He fakes a gasp with all his dramatic flair, as if you swore, and cups the side of Oliver's head, shielding one ear to his chest as well. The dark-eyed male leans closer to you with a growing smile, "Careful! He'll actually do that!"

You snort, "And I hope he does!"

Mark laughs. Oliver, sensing the joyous atmosphere, lets go of his bottle and laughs excitedly as well, cooing and clapping his hands. The near-empty bottle plops onto his tummy and bounces off, almost touching the ground, yet you intercept the timed event by grabbing it midair.

Mark continues bouncing the giggling baby in his arms, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles at your reflexes. "Instead of having him say his big bro sucks as a full sentence, how about saying your name and how you're the best?"

You triumphantly wave the bottle as you back next to them waving the bottle, "Damn right I am-"

"Language." He gets the nagging from his mother, definitely.

You snort again as Mark takes the bottle from you, "Darn right I am."

You peer down at the smiling baby who raises his hands to poke his big brother's face. The little guy tugs Mark's cheek, and Mark winces with shaky laughter. "Is the milk making him stronger or is it his genes?"

You give the bottle back to Oliver for him to fiddle with instead of his brother's face, "The milk."

He snorts in turn as he watches Oliver automatically latch onto the bottle. His gaze softens as a relaxed smile grows on his face at the sight.

The air soothes into a peaceful silence as the both of you fondly watch the giggling baby hold the bottle effortlessly and drink the last of its contents.

Your cheek finds his shoulder, and Mark leans more into your warmth as you pipe up quietly.

"...you'd make a great dad."

Mark immediately chokes on his spit looks at you as if you swore again. Heat rises to his face as he stutters out a repsonse, failing actually, and you cut him off with a laugh.

"I don’t mean thinking about having babies right now, doofus. I meant because of how well you naturally take care of Oliver," you look down at the baby, who tosses the emptied bottle away this round. It actually hits the floor this time, and you automatically laugh.

You crouch down in front of him as Mark smiles down at the giggly baby, content with the small havoc he's reigning. "I, uh... never thought about having a kid of my own," he readjusts Oliver, and his little head lies on his shoulder rather than his bicep.

"Eve and I didn't really think that far into the future," your grip on the bottle accidentally increases at the mention of his girlfriend.

You almost forgot he was taken.

Mark silently watches as you stand up and walk towards the kitchen to clean the used bottle, back facing him so your grim expression isn't readable.

You turn on the faucet as you stare at your distorted reflection on the knob, "I get it, I get it. Superhero on call and whatnot." You glance over your shoulder with a teasing smile as you rinse the bottle, "That dorky little Invcible Inc. got you in a chokehold too."

He raises a brow with a grin, pretending to be offended. 

"Hey, we both decided on that name." Eve and him.

"And you're both dorks, so now what?" Which is true, two adorable dorks—one goofier than the other.

Mark laughs in response, and Oliver joins in, sleepily giggling as you turn off the faucet and dry off the bottle with a small shake. "And you're not?"

You open one of the cabinets stationed with the baby’s utensils, as if you yourself are part of the family as well with how it flows to you naturally, then shelf the now-cleaned bottle upside down on a paper towel. "Hell-“ you immediately correct yourself, “Heck no, I'm not."

Almost forgot to watch your language again.

Mark lets out a small laugh through his nose as he rises with the dozing off baby in his arms, "Not a dork, but equally as cringey.” An indirect jab at your self-censor in front of the baby.

You roll your eyes as you close the cabinet; even his comebacks suck. You then watch as Mark walks towards the stairs carefully, watching his step and also checking if his pace hasn’t woken up the napping baby. Your eyes follow him as he disappears with quiet footsteps.

A sigh the breaks from your mouth.

You love Eve, you truly do, but a strong part of you wishes you had gotten to him before she did.

Just a passing thought… or maybe one that’s been festering for a couple months. Who knows?

Mark returns and leans over the railing playfully with a finger to his lips, shushing you as if you were loud the seconds he had been gone—mirth in his cute eyes and a grin painting his features. "He's fast asleep. That milk really did him in."

You walk up towards him with crossed arms and a brow raised, and he smiles down at you more. "Or it was you hogging him and playing with him the entire time I was here that did him in."

The dark-haired male descends the last few steps with a snort, "Hey, I wasn't hogging him."

"You wouldn't even let me feed him."

He rounds the railing with a shrug, still smiling. "Not the entire time, no."

You uncross your arms with a smile and squint your eyes at him as he approaches you, "But enough time to say it was hogging."

The hero snorts again in humor with a shake of his head. A couple of hairs get displaced, and he pushes them back, "He's my brother. It's not hogging when I do it."

You roll your eyes and walk past him, and he follows you to the living room. You pick up the remote as you sit down, and he plops right beside you, closer than he should, but you never minded how affectionate he could be.

With flair, you place your free hand to your chest as you wave the remote. "So it's classified as hogging when I do it?"

He outstretches his arms wide and plops one behind you,  muscles rippling under his shirt and shirt stretching around his broad shoulders. You avert your gaze from the sight flusteredly annoyed; you hate how easy it is for him to be hot with the face of a kicked puppy.

God, you hate him. 

He hums and stares at the TV. "Pretty much."

You tap the remote on the armrest with a small rhythm, trying to distract yourself from the warmth of the guy next to you—a guy you have a small, very teensy attraction to. "Ugly much."

His eyes shine as he immediately laughs, perturbed. "Are you calling me ugly? What kind of counter even is that?"

You flip through channels without sparing him a glance. "The kind that I use," you turn your head with a smug smile, "because there's nothing pretty about hogging your adorable brother to yourself."

"In fact,” you twirl the remote, acting as if you’re lost in thought, when you scrunch your face, eyebrows dramatically furrowed, “he's a thousand times cuter than you."

The boy looks at you in disbelief and laughs, leaning towards you with a grin, "What?” He then tries to correct you as he grips the back of the couch, “You mean we're on the same level."

You lift one hand high, giving him a visible example of what’s in your thoughts; a measuring medium between the cuteness of the two.

”Oliver is this cute," hand outstretched over the both of your heads. Then you point at the carpet with the remote in your other hand as the ultimatum decorates your tone—no room left for argument, "Aaand you're that cute."

The dark-eyed hero scoffs through his nose, laughing as crosses his arms in defeat. "Wow. Can't believe you said that—demonstrated that too."

You go back to flipping through channels with a grin, cheeky and self-satisfied. "You're welcome. You never would've known how cute you are thanks to me."

Mark shakes his head wryly—yes, he should be so thankful to the person who called him ugly. "Cute as the carpet, you mean."

You lift a finger in correction. 

"I was actually pointing at the floor-"

An unexpected laugh immediately breaks itself from your lips as Mark plops his head on your shoulder and snakes his arms around you, squeezing you consequently after such an insult.

His warm eyes stare at the flashing colors across the screen, his expression one of amusement rather than offense. "Now you're saying all that to be a dick," he then expresses a pout, yet the delight at the banter decorates his tone.

And you don’t disagree; you’re such a mean best friend to him. "Oh, no. I definitely am."

He laughs through his nose in agreement as more of his weight relaxes on you. "Oh, yeah. You definitely are."

You lean on the armrest, not minding how warm and heavy his body is on yours. "And if I'm a dick, then that makes you what?"

"The bestest friend you've ever had, actually."

With every little bit of conversation, the hero instinctively pulls you closer to his lap as to not deal with the strain of leaning over your shoulder. The both of you barely notice the change in position, you fully sitting on his lap, as the banter continues.

You hum with a tilt of your head, playfully keen on not agreeing. "Maybe second at best."

Something worthy of watching almost flashes onto the screen until you pass the News channel—the sounds of roaring debris falling and guttural screams. Mark perks up and immediately cups his hand over yours, bigger and hot, forcing your thumb to go back to the Breaking News.

Well, what do you know. Another crisis.

You turn your head to him in expectation, and his brows furrow as he burrows his face into your shoulder, keen on wanting to keep his brief moment of peace for a second. 

He closes his eyes. “Cecil’s people will deal with it.”

Your eyes soften, already detecting the creeping exhaustion in his voice, then nod. The dark-eyed boy buries his face more into your shoulder, almost trying to drown out the sounds emitted from the television.

Looking back at the screen, the News Broadcast seemed as if it were something out of an action movie—the worst thing real life could be compared to. 

An explosion of orange and yellow, black smoke whirling into the air… an indiscernible limb flying into the air. Right as that happened, you feel the pressure of Mark’s thumb pressing on the TV’s power button; he doesn’t want to see or hear anything at all.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you can see him internally debating whether he should leave or not.

Before you open your mouth to reassure him, his phone rings. The dark-haired male loosens his hold around your waist, and you’re finally aware that you’re perched on his thighs—embarrassingly.

Silently, you slide off. Mark has always been too affectionate with you for his own good, and there were times where you had to warn him about the implications of being so touchy, best friend regardless. 

Yet, it takes two to tango; you’re partially in fault for letting it happen—for liking it.

You give him the space he needs as you settle beside him; the caller ID has him furrowing his eyebrows.

“It’s Eve.”

You watch a he picks up the phone then sigh, a weight perching itself on his shoulders as he hunches over. He confirms over the phone he’ll be coming to the location soon—a client that’s no doubt in the happening of that News Broadcast.

You go back to leaning on the armrest with a small, sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Mark. Invincible Inc. is calling your name.”

He already looks done when he places his hands on his thighs, sighing while getting up from the couch. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”

And with that, a gust of wind hits your face as he zips through the door with a slam and a shut.

You sigh and stand up.

Right when you do so, Mark’s older brother is coming down the stairs with a fussy Oliver on his hip. He’s dressed comfortably, and his muscles casually flex as he pushes his hair back—clearly tired from being woken up.

The whimpering baby on his hip desperately surveys the living room in search for Mark then starts sniffling, hands raised to you as Nolan reaches the last step.

You coo at the baby as you walk up towards the two. You crouch a little to meet Oliver’s gaze as you take one his hands, the small fingers wrapping around your index as he stares at you with his lower lip wobbling. “I’m sorry, Oliver. He just left.”

You glance up at the taller male with a confused smile as you stand upright—bigger frame and baggy pants sitting low on his hips. “Mark just put him to bed too. He started crying already?”

Nolan looks down at you, his light eyes still caked with sleep, then looks around the living room. “He was making that noise in his sleep.”

The older male walks past you while rubbing the whimpering baby’s back, almost ignoring your presence. “I’m presuming it was a nightmare.”

You nod and watch as he sits on the couch. Staring at him from behind, he looks exactly as if Mark spontaneously grew a couple inches—it’s like the family only knows one haircut.

The older male places Oliver on his knee and gently bounces him while observing the whimpering baby’s expression—trying to discern as much as he could from a little being that could barely speak, really. You soon follow right after but lean over the back of the couch instead, elbows on the edge while staring over his shoulder.

Playfully, you stick your tongue while staring down at Oliver, and his watery eyes instantly lighten up. You then act as if you’re eating his brother’s hair, hands scooping up air fills with makeshift utensils, and he giggles in response, raising his hands to you. 

Nolan averts his eyes and turns his head frowning, and you immediately look away with an innocent smile, propping your chin on your wrist.

“With that expression, I’m guessing you did something crude behind my head?” Accusation in his voice.

Your hand reaches out to touch his head, a similar petting you do to Mark at times, and he easily snatches your wrist, the grip iron tight as his fingers wrap around your wrist wholly. 

He’s not touchy like Mark—party killer.

You hum, “If sticking my tongue out is, then yes.”

The light-eyed male’s grip lessens. “Taunting, is what that’s considered to be.”

You gradually pull your hand out of his grip and lean over his shoulder more, voice higher and cooing, as you stare down at the now happy, giggling baby, “Yet Oliver liked it.” 

And his pitched, happy coos agree with you!

You flit your eyes to him, voice normal again with a teasing smile. “What does that say about you, huh?”

The male raises an eyebrow, confused at how easily entertained a baby could be from a stupid gesture, then he closes his eyes in reluctance—it’s a baby after all; they’re entertained by anything.

He readjusts the giggling toddler as he sits up straighter, possibly to distance himself from you. “I don’t find stupidity funny.”

“What if I laughed at you then?”

He promptly opens his eyes to glare daggers into you, but you’re already walking around the couch to plop beside him. The light-eyed older brother huffs through his nose, and you grin more at seeing how his shoulders tense—either holding back from shoving you or containing his annoyance.

Nolan never liked you that much… or any of Mark’s friends for that matter; he’s only natural with his family. 

It’s cute though. Typical grumpy older brother shenanigans.

Oliver giggles as you wiggle your fingers over his tummy and kicks his feet. The older brother watches with an impassive face, yet his natural frown begins to soften at the sight.

His baby brother is happy again, at least.

And yet a vein immediately pops in his neck at feeling you lean towards him with a smug smile, casually taking a jab at him. “Oh, so you can smile.”

He can’t do this; you’re effortlessly annoying. Mark can’t come back quick enough, can he?

…

Both you and the older brother stand over the sleeping baby’s cradle, lying on his back and tucked in tightly. The mobile slowly spins above him as you watch Nolan’s knuckles brush across the napping baby’s cheek.

You had to cover your mouth from such gap moe; big scary older brother caressing his baby brother? 

You could die from adorableness on the spot.

The taller male detaches his hand slowly, as if he’s hesitant to leave the infant alone, then stands upright. He walks towards the dresser and immediately starts playing with the baby monitor, tinkering and adjusting the volume to test if it’s set correctly and can display the crib wholly in its viewpoint.

You uncover your mouth with a grin, eyes crinkling as you stare at his back. Your voice is a hushed whisper as you walk towards the preoccupied male.

“You’re so cute. All dad-like just like how Mark is.”

Nolan’s ears become pink as you stare at the back of his head. His broad shoulders stiffen then his eye twitches as his thoughts run.

Mark is long gone, so why the hell are you still here?

The male glares over his shoulder as he slowly places the baby monitor back on the dresser gently, “When are you leaving?”

You cover your mouth to shield your snort at his quick dismissal—wouldn’t wanna wake up baby Oliver.

You point at him as you step to be beside him, discreetly eyeing how thick his arms are. “Ouch? I’m Mark’s bestie. We’re friends by default then.”

Ignoring your presence again, he smoothly walks past you and towards the door. A creeping exhaustion mixes with the annoyed lilt in his tone. “That’s not how friendship works.”

You shrug as you watch him, “Okay. Acquaintances.”

He scoffs. “I don’t want to get acquainted with you neither.”

You follow him into the hall and tilt your head, faking hurt as your voice drips with disappointment, “You’re so mean.” You shake your head with a playful sigh, acting as if the next words pain you. “Mark and Oliver clearly won the friendly department, so heartbreaking the gene passed over you.”

You point at him with a grin as he descends the stairs with silent creaks, leaning over the balcony with your index raised high, “You won the HR department—cold and ruthless.”

The older brother holds himself back from rolling his eyes as he departs from the last step, rubbing his chin in thought of your stupid quip. “That’s a great win. Actually,” he turns around and looks up at you as he nears the door, “it’s relevant too.”

The annoyed male crosses his arms as he glares up at you from the lower floor. “I’m HR, yes? Employees are given advice for their performance.”

He gestures to the door with his head, “I’m giving you this piece of advice: leave my house and don’t come back.”

You immediately laugh at his comment. 

He is such an asshole. 

You slowly descend the stairs while holding onto the railing, and part of him hopes you fall. Would he ever catch you? That’s up to how harsh his mother is going to scold him if he doesn’t.

Your voice melts into a singsong cadence as your eyes sparkle with amusement. “It’s your head when Mark comes back, and I’m not here, you know.”

He unlocks the door and watches as your foot finally touches the last step—as if he’s waited eons for you to be on your way. 

The light-eyed male bites back a sneer as he leans his shoulder on the doorframe after your comment. “You act as if he can actually do something against me.” His younger brother, who always holds back, pitted against him? Please.

You stop in front of him and place your hands on your hips as you stare into his eyes, grinning. “Well, he has something you don’t, and it’s clearly amicableness.”

Nolan raises an eyebrow with that usual frown, “Amicable?”

You gesture to yourself with a smile, as if you’re the best example for the word. “Very friendly, barely starts shit-“

“I know what it means.” Immediately he cuts you off, no hesitation. His brow twitches; you still don’t take the invitation to leave, and he’s close to picking you up and tossing you out.

You gesture to him with a confused expression, “Okay, so why do you sound confused?”

He uncrosses his arms with a neutral tone. “Since you’re anything but that adjective. An instigator is more accurate.”

You cross your arms instead with an amused smile, “You’re such an asshole.” You then turn around and face the house’s interior, back facing the open door and a resolution shinning in your eyes, “And just for that I’m not leaving.”

He huffs through his nose and leans his head back to the stare ceiling, internally groaning. 

Amazing. Who knew he could actually catch headaches this fast, headaches at all, from just conversing with his brother’s best friend?

You turn around and place a hand on his tensed arm, veins striking across his biceps and arms. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing you. I’ll go, I’ll go.”

Good riddance, is his first thought.

He then ignores how his heart flutters when you playfully squeeze his firm muscles right before you step out of the door. 

And when you came back the next day, it was the same situation again: Mark leaves, he’s left alone with you, and you continuously bother him.

Though this time it’s a bit more personal… and he’s trying his hardest to say he doesn’t care about your ramblings. He’s said it multiple times, but you obviously like hearing the sound of your own voice with how you run your mouth.

He’s definitely going to throw you out of his house one day.

You lazily lie on your back on his couch, back in the same place as yesterday, as if you’ve lived here for years, legs absentmindedly draped over his thighs. He would’ve shoved them off if he had the energy, but he honestly stopped caring after the nth time he tried to make you shut up.

Your head rests on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. “You think they’re made for each other?”

He scrolls on his phone, susceptible to doomscrolling like any other earthling, and barely catches what you said. His tone is one of boredom as his thick fingers rub against your thighs wordlessly. “It would help if you said who the ‘they’ are.”

You sit up with a small frown, pursing your lips, then huff irritated. “You were ignoring me this whole time?”

Of course he was.

The older brother doesn’t look up from his phone, white light reflected in his light eyes. “Of course I was.”

You go back to laying on your back with a huff as you cross your arms, peeved at having to repeat yourself after rambling for nearly a half hour. “Mark and Eve, dingbat.”

The dark-haired male snorts at how you dare to insult him and grips one of your thighs, ready to swing them off his lap; you are the last person to be calling someone a dingbat.

“My input doesn’t mater. If he likes her and she likes him, then it’s none of my business.”

You nearly pout at how quickly he shuts the conversation down, yet you continue. A confession then melts out of your chest as you uncross your arms with a groan. “Don’t tell him… but I liked him before he was even dating Amber, man.”

He doesn’t lift his gaze from his phone, not giving a damn to spare you any of his attention. “Is this where I’m supposed to be shocked at the confession?”

You quirk a brow, almost feeling exposed. “Oh. So you always knew?”

His thumb swipes on some short form content, searching for something relevant to his interests as his fingers absentmindedly knead your thighs just to have something to play with. “I’m actually more surprised you two aren’t doing anything behind everyone’s backs.”

You furrow your brows.

What? 

Oh. Ohhh.

Wow, he thinks he’s sooo funny.

You nearly lift your foot to kick him, offended. “Do I look like a cheap, friends with benefits person to you?”

He continues scrolling, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his tone despite his face showing no emotion.

“My brother touches you like you are.”

You actually raise your leg to kick him, and, instead of shoving you off to the floor, he immediately wraps an arm under your waist, and effortlessly pulls you to sit up on his lap. You stare at him unamused while he stares at you equally unamused, hand gripping your side.

You don’t back down as you squint him, a hint of challenge shining in your depths. “You can let go of me now.”

The older male clicks off his phone while glaring back at you, half annoyed and half biting into the challenge. “You’re playing this card after trying to get violent?”

You shrug, acting nonchalant as his hand readjusts its hold on your side to keep you balanced—how sweet, you think.

Yes, that’s sarcasm ringing through your head, but, undeniably, part of you feels a spark of heat blossoming from him being this intimate for once.

You stare down at him from over your nose, head haughtily tilted back as your voice melts into a tease. “What card?”

His fingers flex into your side more, and you want to get mad at how easily you feel yourself heat up when his thumb runs circles onto the area—he knows what he’s doing to you, there’s no way he isn’t.

“Pretending to be unaffected.”

You change your position to settle on his lap more, and he doesn’t protest when you readjust yourself to straddle his lap. The warmth of your thighs heat up his body as your legs prop on either side of his.

You and sitting on the Grayson’s laps, huh?

You hum as you lower your head. “By your comments or sitting on your lap?”

The light-eyed male tosses his phone on the couch and places his hands on your hips, staring deeply into your eyes intent on not wavering from the heat sparking between you two. “Both.”

You stare at him for a moment.

And he stares back with the same fever.

He is such an asshole, but he’s such a hot asshole. Having his father’s name and looking as if he’s an older version of Mark? You hate him so bad.

He hates you too—genuinely. You’re annoying. You come to his house uninvited. You always insult him.

He can’t stand you.

And the next thing you know is that the muscles of his arms dig into your back when they’re wrapped tightly around you as you’re feverishly kissing one another. He smells good, like clean laundry, he’s big and overpowering, and his lips feel way better than you expected.

More reasons to hate this dude.

The light-eyed male’s hands, big and strength beyond comprehension, squeeze the fat of your hips and wander to your thighs as the both of you meet peck after peck. The temperature rises as you feel in real time his body heat increase, and there was something else gradually increasing down south as well.

Your fingers cup his cheeks, and he pulls you even closer against him, any scant between you now nonexistent.

Every time you pull away for another breath, he pulls your foggy mind back down to kiss him—your mind barely functioning from how shallow each break between is.

The veins across his arms ripple as he effortlessly picks you up and manhandles your legs to wrap around his waist. Your arms wrap around his neck and tug on the shorts hairs at the back of his head as he rounds to the stairs without breaking a sweat, urgent kisses just as consistent.

And when you come out of his room the next day in nothing but hickies and his shirt hanging off your sore frame, hair wild, Mark drops his bowl of cereal and stares at you as if his father came back.

All the while his older brother emerges from the room and disappears down the hall to check up on Oliver.

[xjulixred45x]

Hello :3 can I request a story or one shot about an evil invincible(prefer sinister makr) try to kidnap reader from the mainstream dimension, bc the reader of their dimensions dead :3 (platonic yandere ofc)

Sorry if this long, I just have this scenario in my head for days and I need someone to write it 😭🙏🙏

Take your time, and your work is amazing 💟💟💟

Hun, the Requests are Closed, but honestly? I can do this just bc My obsesión with Invincible isn't over yet(and will LAST) and honestly i NEED to write something (just the nex time wait until the Requests are Open again thank You very much)

This would be more a Drabble, aaaand i decide to use Mohawk Mark(1- i already have a work of Yandere Sinister Mark with a Sibiling and GOD i wanted to use this idea for so long 😭)

Platonic Yandere Mohawk Mark Grayson/Invincible x Sibiling Reader: You..

Mark had to take a second look as he passed by them.

Being surrounded by chaos, hurt people, buildings burning and falling down, he could only focus on them.

that was reader.

Mark knew that they were not His reader, not only because of the clear physical differences (his reader would have to be bigger, less soft and not even that small) but because he knew that in his universe there was no longer a reader who would wait for him back.

He had taken care of that himself.

It was when he began to question everything, when he accepted that he was part of the Viltrumite empire, that he realized that he could not bring his Sibiling with him. They were too weak for the empire, Nolan said.

Mark didn't want to see how they conquered the only being that made him feel genuinely happy, genuinely understood, he didn't want reader to live to be afraid of him, to hate him.

so he took the only measure that he thought would be the most merciful.

It was easy to put sedatives in Reader's food, they trusted him so easily, even after everything that was happening at that moment, what he had already done, Reader felt safe with him. Mark loved them so much.

which made what he had to do next even more painful.

reader fell asleep in a matter of minutes, leaning on him while they watched something, he doesn't remember what. Mark moved to rest their head where they were, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to do.

And he did.

a quick turn of their head and reader was gone.

quickly, while they slept, without pain. without knowing it was him. it was perfect.

Except it wasn't.

When they were making preparations for a funeral for his sibiling (they were one of the children of the new Viltrumite emperor after all), a quick analysis determined that Reader, like Mark, was just a late bloomer.

reader was about to awaken their powers. of being a complete viltrumite. they were not human, they could have been saved from seeing the horrors of the planet.

and Mark killed them.

and the feeling that remained in him was the only thing he felt since then. pure, agonizing and desperate Guilt.

Mark couldn't bring himself to try to replace the void Reader left like he had done with Eve, he just couldn't even think about it. It felt like tarnishing their memory, taking away the weight of what he had done.

It was as if the image of his sibiling now resonated both to give him comfort and to reproach him for all the horrible acts he committed.

So seeing that face that tormented him again, that face that in a way kept him alive, was creepy, but he needed more.

Mark caught up with them very quickly, as he got closer, he saw the similarities that this reader had with his own. someone young, inexperienced, fearful, weak...

But he was not prepared for what happened when he approached them. God, after so many years without them, with the guilt of what he did to them, Mark just wanted to hug them and ask for their forgiveness, he had the opportunity.

But the closer he got to the reader, the more they retreated, and then he realized that, indeed, one of his greatest insecurities had been fulfilled, even in another universe.

reader was afraid of him.

But I could tell I didn't hate him. His gestures, his blood pressure, the way he spoke to him so as not to have to fight, everything indicated a certain familiarity despite the tension in the atmosphere. This reader was like a blank slate from its original version.

a second chance. He could do things right with this reader, protect him properly, give him the opportunity he deserved within the empire, have his sibiling back...

but it would be very difficult to do that with this good-natured Mark on his heels every time he was around reader. Mark saw RED every time reader showed the closeness he had with said alternative version of him (which to make matters worse, it seemed like they were from the same universe).

Well, if this Mark is so good and heroic, he wouldn't mind handing over his sibiling willingly, right?

Even if not, Mohawk doesn't mind going over him to get to the reader, even if he scares then, even if they hates him, he won't lose sight of them anymore, he won't lose them again.

They're going home together, whether they like it or not.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sailor-4lexa]

Young Nolan yessir