feeding the Invincible fixation - mostly focused on my OC Robin
main acc Nythtak, AO3 here
always open to asks/writing prompts on robin-aus
Ko-Fi page here if you'd like to support me!
29y.o., She/her, I go by Az/Nythtak
Frequent NSFW content, minors DNI
You're a genius 🤓 I saw your novel about soulmatesMB How did you do it? I mean how did Mark's variants Each one received a well-crafted character way of speaking and mannerisms Wow I'm amazed at how good the story is.
Aww thank you! Lol main thing I did really was watch that episode a loooot (plus Sinister's prev scene) to try to get a sense of how I could write them, but it then mostly came down to just writing the scene and seeing how they fleshed out in the process.
Definitely some influence from fandom perceptions/other writers, but I also wanted to make them my own interpretation for this specific fic. Which the soulmate factor helped a lot with - since it pushes their personalities to a different extreme and gives me lots of room to play around lol
'what if robin transmigrated as someone else' poss feat MB style dramatics
soulmate as applied to existing AUs (CO for example could get Robin very 'I refuse to acknowledge this shut up shut up shut up go away nope-')
Fresh Drama of a robmark meeting at an iffy stage of the timeline (since damn he really spends most of the run either dating or married huh) with bonus soulmate issues
MB style but with timers and robin's keeps ticking down then restarting after each meeting
MB style but it's whichever variant/mainline is physically closest is 'identified' as soulmate at any one time
Robin's turn at being a ghost haunting her soulmate if she didn't get bodied post alleyway end
Curse-style 'each time you meet your soulmate she'll die' where exactly 111 days after meeting, Robin will die (but don't worry she keeps transmigrating/reincarnating)
variation - she's skipping through variant universes by this method and becoming more and more unhinged with it
make it more invasive = first 24 hours of meeting is full telepathy, no secrets, every thought shared
bodyswap on 18th bday of younger soulmate (which i may actually write a snippet on because that's a fun set up)
I want you to know that your FC5 fic got me so into the rabbit hole that I just bought a PC to play the game 💀
omg that's awesome xD It's a really fun game, I hope you enjoy it!! I played originally on PS4, but I did get it on my PC and played a chunk a while ago - it fully holds up imo.
I do play with controller since it's what I'm used to, but having the bigger screen makes those cutscenes extra impactful. Def recommend going the game-nudged route of John's region first, but on some play thru's I jump between different areas instead of completing it all in one go, to stretch out the encounters xD Oh and listening to the broadcasts at the outposts really adds to the Vibes!
Oh my godddddddd i need to know more about mutual binding mainline emperor mark and his encounter with ep mark and robin and when they both leave emperor mark is like enough pussying around time to get HIS robin back.
And then meeting mark variants in wasteland shenanigans ensue (mostly violent probably.
Angsty mainline emperor mark obssessing over his long lost 'what if?' Robin is such a delicious treat of an idea
Welll the EP meeting probably isn't 'canon' to MB xD Just a fun possibility. So that's a point in mainline's favour - he's using his emperor era to (yearn excessively) actively plan for the reality of his soulbros needing to stay alive, and after watching all available footage for the nth time, getting closer to accepting Robin might not hate the evil versions of him (so 'lock up and throw away the key' can't be the only option).
I'll be real with you, I have no solid plan for how it'll actually play out when he makes his move lol. A lot depends on wasteland shenanigans and how Weird it may get. Some stuff may have changed on Robin's side by then too, and that'll have an impact on 'escape the wasteland' era.
Tyrant wife Robin gets hit with a de-aging ray and is temporarily made into a child. Mark handles this with so much grace and is totally in control of the situation. Mhmm yep. He's just got to keep her alive until it wears off. He ends up taking little Robin with him everywhere. Can't risk someone coming in and stealing her after all. He doesn't put her in chains because she's just a little girl and he's not a monster. At some point he might end up getting a child leash though. Little Robin is a runner. Little Robin asks him what it's like being married and he goes on a whole rant about how he defeated her and so now he gets to keep her. Little Robin responds looking up at him with her big eyes and says she doesn't think thats what wifes are for. He asks what they're for then and she says wifes are for cuddling with obviously 🙄. Then she climbs up into the throne next to him grabs his arm like a teddy bear and falls asleep.
When Robin returns to her true age she looks over and sees half the bed is covered in toys. It's Mark's half. Little Robin loved collecting them but she also wanted space to sprawl out at night so they all ended up on Mark's side of the bed. Mark slept on the floor.
Thought about this and remembered how weird of a kid Robin was lmao. So now Tyrant gets a glimpse of that, too
“Did y’know scurvy makes old injuries come back?”
Mark stares. Why the fuck is his wife such a weird kid? “…Does it?”
“Yeah. Like a haunting.” Robin’s feet swing as she moves the apple slices from one side of the plate to the other.
Her stomach was growling and it annoyed Mark, so he went to the kitchen and cut up an apple like Debbie used to do for him. He could’ve ordered food made for them, but he doesn’t trust anyone else to prepare it.
Robin is in a delicate state. She’s useless and weak, no powers at all, and the de-aging is supposed to wear off on its own. Mark isn’t incompetent; he won’t let her get assassinated while she’s like this. How would it look if the Emperor can’t protect his own wife?
Even if it means having to restrict his movements to their private rooms, unless he’s absolutely needed in the throne room. No one except his most loyal can see Robin as she is, and like hell is he leaving a defenceless kid on her own. She already proved to be worse than most kids when she didn’t run or fight after waking up-
She didn’t even try. Just…stared at him, with Robin’s eyes, and only the flecks of gold in them convinced him she was still his wife. A reduced version of her, all memories of him fucking gone, but it’s temporary. She’ll be back to her usual awful self soon, not this creepy, quiet kid.
…She’s started to talk a bit more, lately. At the beginning she didn’t speak to him at all, unless she was answering a direct question. He had to set reminders because she’s human now, and needs to eat more often, and she’s too stupid to come to him and tell him she’s hungry.
She still won’t now, but she’ll sit next to him on the couch while he’s flicking through reports, instead of going straight back to the bedroom unless he tells her to stay out in the living space. He’s explained how the TV works at least a dozen times now, and she’s finally started to just fucking take the damn remote and put whatever she wants on.
“It’s one of the stages,” she says, face turned away from him but she glances over, like she’s checking if he’s listening. “Scars open up. D’you have any?”
“Scars?” Mark scoffs, and she doesn’t flinch this time. Finally. He hasn’t hurt her, he won’t hurt her, and it was pissing him off that she kept acting like he would. “I’m not weak. Viltrumites can’t get scurvy, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Why- Because Viltrumites are superior to humans.”
That should be the end of it, as she picks up one of the slices and chews on it. But a minute later she pipes up again. “But you can die, right? Do Viltrumites rot?”
He regrets ever telling her what Viltrumites are. He’s not pleased at her getting over this annoying shyness to actually talk to him, when Mark’s been wasting so much of his day here, on standby, like he doesn’t have a million other demands for his attention.
“Only the weak die. Who gives a shit if they rot or don’t rot?”
Robin blinks at him. “Bacteria.”
Mark scowls. “You’re like, seven. You don’t know what bacteria are.”
“Bacteria eat dead people, so they rot, unless they’re frozen. Then they stay forever on mountains and stuff, and really deep under water, ’cause…no bacteria. I think.”
That might be the most words he’s heard her say at once this entire time. What the fuck.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen, and when she smiles he could almost call her a cute kid, if she wasn’t such an obvious freak. “Space bacteria. For Viltrumites, ’cause you’re special.”
Then with a nod, she turns back to the TV - currently showing a Seance Dog episode, not anything that could’ve brought this on - and picks up another apple slice.
You’re special.
Well, obviously. But it’s good that even this diminished version of Robin acknowledges it.
I just saw an incredible new rate pair and it gave me an idea for a new au. The pair was conquest x battle beast. What if there was a Robin variant who was their daughter? Idk how they'd end up with a kid maybe battle beast is Trans. Maybe the viltrumite empire is unexpectedly woke about just one thing and conquest is trans. Maybe a witch decided to curse the whole galaxy by creating a child with the two worst possible parents and they found out and decided to raise the kid as their own who can say. All that matters is Robin being raised by the two most bloodthirsty men alive. They love their violent daughter so much.
Good luck Mark.
Tbf if Viltrumites were woke about anything, I can fully see them not giving a shit about gender beyond 'do your duty in whatever way works'. Only drawback is discouraging enough individuality to push that point but Either Way-
"When you said 'catgirl' this is not what I was picturing"
"Dude shut up she has really good hearing-"
Robin would fully delight in the absurdity of her existence. Roll the dice on coping mechanisms and get the frequent 'excessive violence' paired up with 'haha what if I act like an anime catgirl despite being a Beast that'd be funny'
(wow can a version of Robin at some point please have shame? Maybe? so far R!Nolan is the only one I can think of immediately jfc...everyone else goes 'welp it is what it is' and 'yikes. moving on' at best)
Frequent calls to daddy and papa so they know she's doing just fine on her galaxy murder-tour in search of Worthy Opponents what no she hasn't gone to Earth, she knows that's been banned, she'd never swing by there immediately to indulge her curiosity over seeing her fave character in action.
slips on sunglasses and a baseball cap with holes cut out for ears "They'll never know its me"
I just realized from Mark and Eve's pov Ronaan totally looks like the opposite of the immortal child trope. Ya know the one where theres some thousand year old being who just happens to look twelve. Ronaan looks like an adult but he's really like five. I hope one day after they've gotten together they both realize that while Ronaan sleeps peacefully between them.
Also I reread that one snippet where Mark and Robin are both alphas and I was wondering how Mark would react once he found out that Robin's original world didn't have secondary genders and that she barely has any alpha instincts at all. She's just been courting him blind this whole time.
- Jade
Mark and Eve finally getting over the morality crisis that is falling for their enemy captive (who Mark also y'know killed), just to trip into the next landmine. They're gonna be so relieved when they find out about the isekai thing...one day.
Hmmm in that omegaverse au, Robin's probably told Mark she's 'noseblind' (since that version of the au had all the pheromone/scenting side), but on top of alpha/alpha relationships being unusual - he now gets the extra 'my girlfriend loves me so much' melts into lovestricken goo over how Robin's adapted all for him.
Robin meanwhile "it wasn't exactly a hardship-" But whoops he's in his feels now, give him a few minutes to recover.
pssst is there anything you guys wanna see for CO, maybe in loyalist era (as a flashback)?
Current structure is like. an Eve POV following last chapter, then we hit a time skip that covers training/bonding for about a month. But that section ended up so long it may as well be its own chapter and paces better that way. But leaves me on the fence about the 2k-ish needed for ch21 pre-timeskip lmao
Can't be any current Conquest POV, liiikely not Debbie's since holding that back for later, the Oliver re-meet is in ch22 so not that, no Mark POV because his is next due for ch25-
I have a couple ideas I might try playing out but figured heyyyy I'll toss the question here too!
Genderswap AU was also Absolute Peak- Robin and Maya are so fucking hot together. I’d really love to actually see Debbie being wary of Maya’s hot bad boy first boyfriend lol
I was thinking about how the first meeting with Debbie would likely be different, since Maya maybe wouldn't invite Robin over to her house so soon compared to Mark due to the gender switcheroo. Like it's a Bigger Deal as a girl than a guy, and she'd probably consider this more than Mark would.
Sooo they could've been dating a little while before 'meet the parents' is planned, and only really hanging out at Robin's. Which leads to-
Making out with your girlfriend in her bedroom is so normal it can’t skip the tang of absurdity.
You were supposed to be studying, passing the hour or so after school finished until her mom arrives home from work, and it’s time to meet her. You get the feeling Maya wasn’t supposed to bring you up to her room, fingers tangled with yours and smile shy but eager. Barely cracked the textbooks before they were being shoved off the bed, the first soft kiss a quick transition to being pushed down onto the pillow.
Not that you protested at any point. Did fuckall to stop her pulling your shirt off, leaving you in just the tank top, and her sweater was quickly discarded too. You slip your fingers under her shirt and tease the strap of her bra, feel her breath hitch, but don’t go any further.
You’re her first boyfriend, so you’ve been letting her set the pace. Hell, you’d have done the same if you were still a girl (and not just a vague whatever to being seen as a dude now, which if nothing else, was interesting to realise how little you cared). A nod to the experience gap that’ll keep this all- ah, not exactly appropriate. But whatever; if she wants you, she can have you until her normie boyfriend period is done with.
Far from a fucking hardship. Except, y’know, in one sense.
She squirms closer, thigh pushing between yours, and both your shudders are a near-match from the pressure on your dick. The jeans help but fuck, can’t pretend you aren’t getting hard after a few minutes of making out with Maya on top of you.
“Ignore it,” you mutter, press another kiss to her parted lips as your thumb strokes her cheekbone, your fingers in her thick, soft hair. “Not too urgent yet.”
“Yet?” Her giggle is nervous but- yeah, she’s smiling. Adorable and thrilled, like she’s won something by getting you all hot and bothered. Like any dick-carrier wouldn’t be stiffening up with Maya Grayson so close by, stretched out over you without her previous habit of trying to keep her weight off.
Took some convincing for her to get that yeah, you’re into her being bigger and stronger, and didn’t much appreciate the ‘light as a feather’ act. Now, she seems to enjoy it the most when she’s on top. The world is a wonderful place.
“Yet,” you confirm, pulling back enough for a dry glance before kissing her cheek, then the side of her jaw.
She sighs and squeezes at your bicep as you move to her neck. It’d take serious effort for even a brief hickey, which gives you near-free reign to kiss and suck to your heart’s content.
Feel her breathing pick up and memorise every moan, so quiet at first before she gives up on suppressing them. Your cock throbs when she shivers and tries to push closer again, and you really should stop instead of tormenting the both of you.
But there’s something to that, right? Knowing you won’t go further, but indulging in the taunt of how close you’ll get. Feeling the bed under you, guessing how wet she must be, smiling against her racing pulse as you imagine her getting off to this tonight. She’ll remember the drag of your tongue stud over her skin, and you’re no stranger to how good that’d feel someplace else.
Fuck, if you do end up her first time? You’re gonna eat her out until she’s sobbing. Learn exactly what she likes, maybe teach her a few things if she hasn’t explored much.
Haven’t asked her yet. Maybe should, when she’s making noises like she’d really appreciate a helping hand, and all your fingers are doing is keeping up the slow, light swirl on her lower back. Downright innocent, when you could be grabbing her ass and rocking against one of her perfect thighs.
She’d probably go with it, is the thing. Needy girl, so sweet in how easy she is for you, and too worried about not being the right kind of girl. Fucking insane, but too sincere for casual dismissal. Nah, gotta prove it instead, and only consistency can do that.
You can do consistent.
Obviously, she deserves better than you, and you’ll be sidelined once bigger and better comes along (maybe with the classic ‘threaten the weak love interest’ plotpoint tossed in) - but you figure you can be a decent starter boyfriend. Build her self-esteem a little on the relationships front, so she’ll have an easier time with whoever comes next.
You’re admittedly not as confident on endgame ships, given the blatant canon divergences in play, but you can’t imagine she’ll lack for options. Too…herself, impossible not to adore.
And ideally, the next love interest will give a better first impression than Debbie walking in on the two of you now.
“Maya,” is a sharp snap, and Maya throws herself off you - and into a hover, mortification washing over her flushed face as she stares at her mom.
“Mom, I was- Mom, my door was shut! You can’t just barge in!”
You adjust yourself as subtly as you can manage, wishing you’d worn a looser tank top so you could tug that down over the tenting. Alas, you must depend on the structure of jeans to provide camo as you sit up.
“It’s my house, and I’ll go wherever I want inside of it,” Debbie reminds firmly, and then her narrowed gaze turns to you.
Yeah, can’t imagine this looks great. It’d be one thing if you were a girl, but the default assumption suggests otherwise. Can’t imagine the piercings work in your favour either, but hey, no tattoos. That’s gotta count for something.
“Hi, Mrs Grayson,” you say. Lucky you kept your tank top on, huh? “I’m Robin. Nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t look very impressed. Whoops. “Downstairs now, the both of you.” When she leaves, the door is pointedly pushed wide open.
Maya’s knees hit the bed and she slumps forward as she buries her face in her hands. It doesn’t quite muffle her agonised groan.
Your lips twitch, but you hold back a snicker as you shuffle closer to rub her back. At least your boner’s dying down in the face of imminent parental scolding. Not quite your kink. “We shouldn’t keep your mom waiting.”
She peeks past her fingers at you, the embarrassment stronger than any heat mirage. “I’m so fucking sorry, oh my god, why is she so-” Maya groans again, all teenage impotence. Second strongest being on the planet, everyone. “Why can’t she be cool.”
Because you’re a dude and Maya’s a chick? You assume. No clue if Debbie would’ve reacted the same if it was Mark and Amber, but you guess with Maya only getting her powers recently…Eh, caution’s probably natural. Especially since superpowers don’t make Maya immune to becoming a teen mom.
Ugh. Yeah, none of that sort of plotline, thanks.
You cup the back of Maya’s neck, which is all the coaxing she needs to lower her hands fully - and tilt into the rallying kiss. Just a light one, before you pat her shoulder and stand up. “Let’s go make sure your mom knows I’m not gonna knock you up, skip on child support, and have a dramatic reunion ten years later on reality TV.”
Ah, her wide-eyed incomprehension followed by flustered stammering is way too fun. Whoever her endgame is has seriously lucked out.
You know R!Cecil and mark could be really interesting in the AU where Debbie doesn’t die early
Like, after Omni man decides to publicly turn coat and try to kill Mark. There’s no way R!Cecil is not going to get involved.
After all Mark clearly needs A steady guiding hand to help him recover from such a betrayal !! The poor kid is very obviously not handling the recent revelations well.
And of course remind him why he should stay committed to staying Team Earth :)
I’m sure R!Cecil will find plenty of ways to motivate him. (Yes Donald it is in fact necessary to take Mark out to Comic-Con, of course I bought VIP tickets, what, do you expect me to cheap out on emotional manipulation?)
Since R!Cecil isn’t the most stable in this AU. He probably has a slightly more worrying reputation than in canon. So the chances of anybody being happy with this situation is low.
Though that all without mentioning how Mark would take all of this
Anyway, may your crops flourish
^_^_/~~. *•@.^*•
I felt the Urge to explore a build-up to this possibility xD Ahh it's too fun to see how Robin's mindsets can shift drastically based on the circumstances.
You’ve started keeping a nickel in your suit pocket. Started as an impulse, then stuck the landing. No one can accuse you of lacking a sense of humour, ha.
Your thumb rubs over the side of it now, traces the grooves as you wonder if you’ve fucked everything up by stepping out of sync with canon.
Not by a lot. Big moves are a last resort, and you’ve become familiar with every nudge in the build up to a hail mary. Hell, you saw what you could’ve done differently, and resisted the urge. Risk too high, not worth an ending you don’t know the shape of. At least for the foreseeable future, you don’t want a sharp turn off this track and into the cascades below.
Season one, cleared.
Season two-
“You look tired.” That’s all it started as. An observation, a check-in, fucking impulse. A flip of a coin and too many camera feeds showing you the same thing.
Mark unravelling. Mark not dealing with the shittonne of trauma dumped on his head. Mark the teenage boy, capable of taking over the damn planet if he set his mind to it. And you know-
It adds up. All the things you know, and this- you needed something to hold to. You needed to become the role you’ve been forced into, feel the melt of it at the back of your throat, the delicate adjustments to each stitch you’ve learn the shape of before you pushed it through.
When did you wake up? Some point, some time, who gives a shit.
Why’d you let them die? No one’s worth the world, and you won’t flinch from your death either.
Might be a relief, actually. Closest thing to a vacation you’ll see any time soon. Wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you listened to Donald’s suggestions; more joke now than a real urge to take a step back, but never losing the underlying concern when you’re…
You have a handle on it, mostly. More so than plenty of agents who haven’t had their skin melted off. The work helps. It never ends, and you need something like that. Reliable, cruel and steady. Can’t stop all the sand from pouring down the hourglass, but you can keep the pressure on until your all too human body gives out.
Nolan almost killed you. You haven’t decided yet if you cut it close on purpose.
Maybe you couldn’t have stopped him, but it didn’t need to go down that way. It always needed to go that way, because he’ll be instrumental in saving Earth one day. No visits to Atlantis for a soundbite, no figuring out how to get a chip in Nolan when he was out cold - a decision on a rooftop, a coin toss to make the final call.
Act, or don’t?
Stay the course, or risk it all?
Most choices you face, you aren’t given one outcome to weigh against the unknown. They’re easier, in a a sense; best judgement without knowing you’re pulling astray. The real nuance comes in what limits you set for yourself.
You think of moral dilemmas, trolley problems and resource management. You think of archetypes and the cuffs of your suit, the gun holstered at your side and the gnawing sting of each teleport. You think of the pencil in your grasp, the lines sketched out and erased moments later, and wonder what shape is forming on the smudges coating your fingertips.
Here’s the thing.
A numbers game is easy, with some practice. One against ten. Ten against a hundred. A hundred against a thousand. Rinse and repeat, and the math checks out.
It’s lazy. Short-term, reactive. Five Guardians against a million civilians. How’s that math work out now, projected forward a decade? Ah, but now you’re predicting the future, and that only works on one overlay - the one stuck in your head, returned to every time Robin Wilson starts feeling like a lie you told yourself to find a reason for-
Everything. Nothing at all.
It’s a balance, then; being the Director of the GDA. You could be worse, in every way possible. Ineffective. Too effective. Cold. Weak. Hard lines and no redemptions, or the soft acceptance that’ll erode foundations before it’ll build anything new. Whose example do you follow, when doing more would mean risking a sure thing?
One future, where Earth is triumphant. You’re supposed to care about that. You need to care about it, because it’s all you have.
So why the fuck did you slip the leash?
Tired, haunted brown eyes. Just a kid. Just the most terrifying thing on the planet, and you never figured out how to imitate fear. Did you best with everything else, but this? Christ. Fucking…Christ.
Therapy gets shot down, of fucking course. Debbie’s gonna stop accepting the money soon, but the resources will be there if she needs it. If she’ll take it. Mark wanted out of the game, just to turn around and demand to be put back in within a month. You noted it as closer to the show than the comic, and-
You should’ve turned him down, for now. Shouldn’t have let sentiment make the choice for you.
Oh, you can toss fair reasoning around all you like. Really, if you wanted to play it out properly - why wouldn’t you take steps to build his loyalty? You know the trigger points, and you’re in a position to use every weakness he’s all but screaming out now. Dangerous games are a proven speciality of yours, and you weren’t exactly brimming with self-preservation instincts before you bled out in an alleyway.
If all you had was the existing information, the boy with too much power, it’d be fucking obvious what you should do when he fails to stabilise on his own. Even then.
Nolan alone was an unforgivable fuck up. Missing out on the vulnerability of a half-human, teenage Viltrumite recently beaten and abandoned by his daddy? Jesus. You don’t need the dozens of foreign attempts to influence Invincible - deterred by the GDA at every turn - to signpost reasonable action.
But that isn’t why you do it. Funeral rites for a dead girl, maybe. Some days you feel more like her than Cecil Stedman. When your body aches, and you see your reflection, and it feels so utterly wrong you have to laugh.
The scars are the only part you feel a real claim to, but you guess that makes sense. They’re iconic, right? False choices made in a red tie and black suit, the spare, crisp white shirts kept in your office. You’ll need to change into a fresh one when you’re done with this cigarette; what passes for a break up on the Pentagon rooftop.
Fucking ridiculous, thinking about it for more the a minute. All your worries about risk, and here you are, out in the open. Hypocrite.
Yeah, yeah, you won’t be on any tech’s visual, but it’s a whole new world now. Forced out of the shadows by the deaths of the Guardians even if, so far, you’ve limited who knows the Director’s name and face. The GDA has an official spokesperson and several lower-level representatives to keep funds flowing without your direct intervention.
Whole lot of bureaucracy behind saving the world. No wonder you’re barely hanging on by a thread.
You won’t lie, not to yourself; part of you was a little disappointed to be staring down a mainline universe. The excuse to set aside the pettiness, go all out war? Can’t pretend you don’t see the appeal, whenever the constraints of budgeting dictates how secure a facility is.
You do keep up the lie of how much every teleport costs. Gotta get your kicks in somewhere, and falsifying the price keeps other agencies from demanding their own conveniences.
Not that it’s anything close to flight, you’re reminded as you’re alerted through the earpiece to Mark’s rapid descent. He slows once he’s more than a yellow-blue-black blip against the sky, must spot you because his path adjusts to see him landing beside you.
“You’re early,” you note, flicking ash over the side of the building. “Training isn’t for another three hours.”
“I was in the neighbourhood,” he jokes weakly. No cowl or gloves, and no change to the dark shadows under his eyes. You’ve dialled down how closely his house is watched, but you wouldn’t need a report to guess another sleepless night.
“Sure you were.”
It’s a good sign, him deciding to come here early. A dependency fed on the structure of regular training, the promise that next time, he won’t be the one left broken in a mountainside. A balanced diet of control and independence, at a time when he’s so scared of becoming like his dad, he’d do anything if it meant no one else dying as collateral.
It’s a bad sign, that he didn’t stay home. Talk to Debbie, or one of his friends. Find comfort in normality, instead of the utility of the GDA.
Donald suggested someone else should be Mark’s main point of contact. An agent with no connection to Nolan or the Guardians, who could be a fresh face and impartial influence. Ideally a woman, to avoid those daddy issues, with as much in common with Debbie as they could get away with before the play became obvious.
If you were motivated by making the smart play, you would’ve agreed.
You wouldn’t sigh, and show Mark to one of the GDA’s smaller cafeterias (this week, designated for only two departments, both of them dealing with a crisis Donald has a handle on this morning). Let him keep quiet instead of forcing conversation, other than his flicker of nose-scrunched judgement over how much sugar you pour into your coffee.
He accepts the explanation for not immediately getting into training - “It takes time to set up, no matter how impatient you are.” - and gradually loses the tension in his shoulders as he sits across from you, picking at the sandwich and potato chips you tossed on a tray when he refused actual food.
You have a tablet to check reports on, after sending off instructions to switch to a more strenuous workout today. If it wears him out, maybe he’ll sleep better. Can’t hurt.
There’s…more you could be doing. There’s also less, and you’ve already overstepping. Debbie let you know exactly that, when you laid out the terms of how the GDA wanted to work with Mark.
He’s a kid. He’s going to college soon.
Cecil didn't tell her Nolan killed the Guardians. He’ll use Mark until he breaks.
A contract is meaningless when you’re the Director of the GDA. Debbie knows it. You don’t pretend otherwise, and you don’t do her the disservice of remorse for decisions you’d make again.
“I’ll keep him alive,” is the one promise you can believe, and live with the contradiction.
Debbie and Mark talked about it, and whatever they decided, Mark takes orders now. He accepted when you said he needed to train before you’d put him back in the field. There’s time, limited as it is, before you have to decide what to do about Angstrom Levy.
Play it out, or cut it off at the root. Now you’ve made the first changes it feels-
It’d be easier, to go further. It’s intel you’d kill for - have killed for - all stuffed into your head, if you just choose to use it. Threats to eliminate before they can grow. Millions saved, with one man’s death. The potential of billions, if you could figure out how to use him instead.
If you can decide what you are now, and finally commit. Cowardice at its finest, to linger in this half-assed state. To sit across from Mark and maintain a wavering distance, unable to pick a fucking play.
Experience says the matter will be taken out of your hands if you don’t act.
Sentiment refuses to release its grasp, and you’re still bleeding. Maybe you always will be.
You take a breath, and pull the nickel from your pocket. Meet Mark’s uncertain gaze with a simple order before you flip the coin.
“Call it.”
Sometimes, it shouldn’t be a decision at all. You can live with that.
... has anyone had the idea to have Robin reincarnated as seance dog? It'd be a little silly but maybe Robin gets really good at magic and just opens up a portal to Mark's world. Robin tells Mark that she saw his great struggles and heroic spirit with her mysterious powers and knew that she needed to reach out to him to help him. This is kinda the truth she's just leaving a lot out.
After Mark gets over his suspicion he ends up loving spending time with his favorite character so much! It doesn't take long for his feelings to grow stronger and become obvious to everyone but him. Robin was not expecting Mark to be a full on furry. What?! How? Why was this left out of cannon the fans deserved to know?
The only one who isn't surprised is Debbie. Well she wasn't surprised about the furry thing, she wasn't expecting her son's obvious boyhood crush to become real that really threw her off for a minute. Until she accepted that the way her life is going this might as well happen. She'll expect the unexpected from now on.
No one is safe from robincarnation. nothing is sacred, everything is permitted-
That's so funny tho xD Phase one robin post initial reincarnation: alright this is a lil fucking weird but I'm gonna roll with it 'cause magic, holy heck
Phase two in Invincible universe: whooooa didn't know I could do that! Oh shit I need an excuse. uh. mystical powers sensed his need for a guaaaadiaaan spiriiiit yeah sure, he's gullible enough to believe that. dork. Damn he looks like he needs some sleep, let's set up a few Magic Protective Circles so he can chill the fuck out
Phase three: whoops he's a furry. how'd that happen
Is Eve in on Mark's fake marriage scheme in that one au or does she think her friend just got married to the first girl he dated after Amber?
Me staring into space like: which makes Mark look like more of a pathetic loser?
Best of both worlds. At first she thinks it's fully legit, even if absolutely an impulsive disaster that has her worried about Mark, and who exactly he married - plus offended on Amber's behalf aaaand maybe dealing with her own crush, if that still happens in this AU. Tbf the main reason the scheme looks real is that Mark falls fast and hard, so even his parents don't doubt it.
Which makes it funnier once Eve gets to know Robin a bit and learns that they're a Marriage Of Convenience.
Robin there like 'hmm I should encourage mark to tell his potential future wife so their relationship isn't screwed over. Hell even if they just stay friends, seems like deets to share' while Mark is agonising about how to ask his fake-but-real wife on a date, and making sure every villain he fights knows he's a married man (since he can't wear his ring into battle)
Aww I am so sorry that you had to move your stories to register users on ao3 because of bots. I really hope you would put it to public eventually again even with just users who can comment or just by turning it off the comments section because I feel so bad that other people are missing out on such good stories from you since I am one of those people who don’t even log in only when I want to save a story or comment and then I log out. Again hopefully those bots leave you alone if you eventually put all your stories back on public. I hope you have a great day.
I might switch back eventually - it was mostly the "gdi again?" aaand the reminder that I normally private them anyway, just as what little I can do to prevent bots and the various 'fed into AI' bullshit that goes on.
(speaking of - been wild seeing on twitter about claude-use apparently being so widespread. But the backlash against purple prose/abstract metaphors is so sad, it's very fun to write and can't exactly be called an identifier for AI when. y'know. AI is trained on real writing)
That's interesting tho about only logging in briefly, I'm so used to just being logged in alllll the time xD Any time it expires I get grumpy over having to remember what my password is again lol
Sooo y'know how the Robin!Thragg AUs have leaned more into fun crack?
How about. The opposite
There’s something funny about it all, if you think about it just right.
That’s what it comes down to. Perspective. All in the- direction taken. The lesson learnt, retained, and boy has your new skull been stuffed with plenty of lessons. Might be doing some serious damage, ha. Might…
It’s okay. You’re alive, aren’t you? The heart beating steadily inside your chest may be someone else’s, but it’s only ever pumped your blood. Everything you are, you built. Molded by the hands of another, sure, but that would’ve been the case even without…you.
Robin. That was your name. You’ll try to remember it, you think. It might be better to forget, but you’re allowed this one sentiment. This soundless grief, and you can’t laugh about it. You’re watched too closely. You stand at the heels of the Emperor of Viltrum, in a position earned through blood, sweat, and not a single tear. That’d be, ah, foolish.
It’s okay, because you’re pretty fucking angry, and that’s a lot more useful than tears. Novel, too. To feel the single, abiding crack in the role you’ve been assigned, and know it will bleed into every facet of who you are.
You’re angry. So you’re going to ensure Viltrum falls.
It isn’t like it’s hard; you caution Argall against the man who will plunge a blade into his skull, and watch as your words fall on deaf ears. Accept Argall’s rebuke with painted remorse - who are you to challenge a would-be traitor you cannot kill yourself? - and wonder how long remains before it all really begins.
Why are you here? Who fucking knows. Cosmic fuckup or whatever else, you don’t care. You’ll do exactly what you’ve been trained to do since birth, and play your part to a goddamn T. You’ll give them the Grand Regent they deserve, and-
Honestly, counting the dead feels like giving them too much credit. But it’ll be pretty damn spectacular to witness, won’t it? Your people, so strong, outlasting centuries in their blind orbit of a planet long-since bled dry.
Gotta get your kicks somewhere.
…What was the funny part again?
You’ll try to remember some other time.
-
It should be harder. You think about that, instead of how many you’ve killed. You think about how…bland it feels to end a life with your bare hands, stare into dying eyes and feel nothing. No satisfaction. No regret. At best, you’re annoyed no one you can feasibly fight now is worth your time.
Argall keeps you close. It’s suffocating, but you see the logic in his whirlpool of bullshit. You aren’t an heir; you’re the stopgap, the leverage to maintain a wall between any who could potentially oppose him, while also attending to the ‘duty’ of legacy.
If he pops his clogs, you takeover and find the most suitable of his heirs, train them up to rule next. But until then, they stay out of sight and out of mind, and not a threat to the old bastard. Your lack of legitimacy is a shield, because no Viltrumite would side with you over him. It’s paranoid, all doomed control, and would’ve been a much dumber move if Viltrumites didn’t live so long.
Helps that Argall is far from weak. Thaedus only gets him by attacking like a coward. Will get him, and you wonder when the moment will come; the decision to turn traitor.
He isn’t actually the first. He just thinks he is, because Argall has ensured no one knows about the few traitors who have cropped up throughout thousands of years.
No one except you, warned for the simple reason of how…useful it is, to keep in mind when considering who to raise up as generals. Replaced and shifted around every few centuries, Kregg the latest to benefit from a promotion, while his predecessor was sent to a far-flung sector for trade route patrolling after displaying signs of weakness.
Family lines are tracked. Children separated whenever a parent shows they lack the resolve to guide their offspring to adulthood, in the fleeting encounters permitted to them. Duties enforced on meticulous schedules, monotony enforced around the shape of purposeful violence. The exceptions are rare; mad dogs like Conquest pushed to the borders of the pack, kept happy but never satisfied, and never allowed any influence.
It’s interesting to witness the behind the scenes, you’ll give Argall that. Adds a certain charm to the knowledge that his death will be all the excuse you need to- what’s the phrase? Cut out the rot?
Yeah. You’re looking forward to it.
So pointless, so stupid, and the best part? They’ll do it. They’re so fucking braindead that they’ll kill each other in droves because they believe it makes them strong. Christ, if that doesn’t prove they deserve to suffer and die for the sake of nothing, you don’t know what does.
-
In reality, it goes a little different than you expect.
In retrospect? A civil war does make sense, so you don’t think that aspect is your fault. You roll with it, and it’s as good an opportunity as any to test out if you’re worth the hype. Did Argall, in fact, manage to breed a Viltrumite so strong that he can only (one day) be beaten by the main character himself?
Uh, yeah. Results speak for themselves, and a mass grave is a hell of a statement piece. Drenched in blood and draped in duty - it works, right? It…
C’mon. Haven’t you remembered the joke yet?
Shit. It’ll come to you.
Time is the one thing you have in abundance.
-
“Find the weak among us. The ones who would see our Empire fall to our enemies, who fail to grasp why all is ours. Why it is the foundation of our strength. This is the duty I remind you of now, not as punishment or a simple battle to be won, but the reason for our existence. This is what it means to be Viltrumite.
If you live, you must fight for the right to draw your next breath. Anything less is not worth preserving.
If you live, you belong to the future I will lead us to.
Show me your Viltrumite hearts.”
-
Someone really should’ve made this harder for you.
It sits with more expectation than Argall ever held for you. You’ll be above the planet, above Viltrum, where gravity softens and everything is…quiet. Outside the defences but beneath the fleet, and you’ll-
Someone should stop you.
No one does. No one will, until him. You hope.
You hope it’s real, these not-memories. You hope you aren’t just crazy. That’d…suck, ha. It all lines up enough so far and- you could look, for Earth. But you don’t want to yet. You don’t want to knock anything off course, because…
Because…
The flicker of panic is buried beneath habitual rage. There we go. Hold on tight, yeah? Stay the course. You won’t lack for conviction when you’re already past the point of no return.
Besides. They really brought it on themselves, forcing a thing like you to exist.
-
Thaedus’s name is buried, and a statue is erected of Argall.
You stand before it, sometimes. It might be as close to grief as you feel, this sense of a missing step when you don’t have him to follow, his orders to obey. The constant tests and punishments, so clearly geared toward hammering you into the weapon he wanted. Not an heir, never with the anticipation of his own death, but a step above a general. A useful tool.
You kept his skull. Kind of a key item, huh. It joins every meeting as a morbid reminder of the cowardice of their enemies, even if it feels…foolish, to let anyone know that the greatest of them could fall.
It’s a delicate balance to maintain, you guess. Mythologise to push beliefs to further extremes, but cloud the perception of your subjects and enemies. The Coalition is a growing whisper now, and it’s-
You could crush them. You could win, if you wanted to. As strong as Thaedus is, he only beat Argall by ambushing him. Knowing what you know - the right move would be to gather a unit and take Thaedus out before he can dream up the Scourge.
You look up at the statue’s face, and you do nothing.
Except push the expansion of the Empire, with even greater brutality than under Argall’s rule. Except demand more from your forces, because if they survived the Purge, shouldn’t they be perfectly capable of rising to the occasion?
They could break. They could turn on you. You’re strong, but you’re only one man. They could save themselves, but they fucking won’t, will they?
They never stopped Argall. No chance they’ll even consider allowing you the end you need.
-
When Kregg gives his report on the sickness sweeping your people, it takes a lot of effort not to smile.
Thaedus took the bait. A recall of all forces to Viltrum, unusual in its sheer scale. Logically, there’d be no good reason to leave holes like that in your iron grip over the Empire, so you made it illogical.
Every Viltrumite must return to pay their respects to Emperor Argall on this anniversary, prove their loyalty, and for a habitual search for the lost heirs - widely believed to have perished in the Purge, along with all records of them.
Obviously, you didn’t put up flyers to announce to the galaxy at large about the family gathering. But if Thaedus had a shred of competency, he’d notice the movement of forces, the brief halt in expanding territories. Communication chatter and the reinforcement of the conquered species who manage the majority of the Empire’s day-to-day running.
You’d have been real annoyed if he missed the best chance you could’ve given him to infect all Viltrumites in one fell swoop. If he’d delayed any further, you might’ve had to do something drastic.
Instead, you order a quarantine of the planet, and watch as your people die by the billions. It’s everything you dreamed of, and when the disease finds you - when you sit on the throne as affectionate delirium sinks its fingers into your broken mind - you know you’ve done exactly as you should. You’ve kept your promise. You-
You dream of burning, and the last voice you’ll hear before you die again. The same voice, but the wrong name spoken.
