#and that isn't to say that they are at fault but that they are the result of capitalistic alienation and exploitation

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[yan-randomfandom]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[moonstruckme]

Hello Mae!! I loooovveee your fics!!

I'm feeling rather sick right now, so I wondering if you could write EMT!Marauders x Sick!Reader (vomiting, passing out, high fever etc)

If not then that's ok, thanks!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: vomit mention (past tense), reader has a high fever but isn't like super super out of it (though it's mentioned some of her memories are a bit hazy)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The voices start out in your dreams. Low, indistinct murmurings, in voices that you know instinctively are safe. They’re warm enough to cuddle into like extra blankets. So, you don’t feel particularly inclined to rouse until something starts rubbing your cheek. 

Your lashes peel apart like they’ve been stuck together with glue in your sleep. It’s a herculean effort. Worth it to find Remus on the other side, though. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, thumb still stroking your cheek. 

“Hi,” you whisper back. 

Remus smiles—it’s one of your favorites from him, so tender it’s almost shy, like he doesn’t want anyone to see—and ducks down to kiss the corner of your mouth. Dutifully missing your lips, as your boyfriends have been sentenced to do for the past couple of days. You blink fuzzily. The hall light is on, illuminating dimly your otherwise dark bedroom and Sirius and James peeling off their uniforms. Sirius is typing something into his phone, while James watches you out of the corner of his eye, grinning when he catches you looking. 

It’s possible you’ll never not flush when your boyfriend grins at you while stepping out of his trousers. This may be a life sentence. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks. 

You make a sort of humming sound. You’re sick of feeling sorry for yourself and besides that you’re running out of adjectives. First it had been not right, then not very well, then plainly bad. Now you feel distinctly in worse territory, but to voice that feels too much a plea for pitying treatment, and you won’t do it. 

Remus murmurs, “Yeah?” and tsks like he hears it anyway. He lays a hand over your forehead, frowning. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

“Early,” James says, like an apology. “We just got in.” 

You nod like this is expected. It’s not unusual for your boyfriends to come home from a long shift in the early hours of the morning, but truthfully, you don’t remember exactly when they’d left. You were in a sort of feverish, half-asleep state for most of the evening. 

“Open,” Remus prompts softly. You do, and he nudges a thermometer into your mouth, smoothing some hairs away from your face once he’s done. He looks worried. So many sweet, tender touches. It’d be enough to make you dizzy even if you were fully conscious. 

“Is she warmer?” Sirius asks. 

“I think so,” says Remus. 

James makes a sad puppy noise and flops onto the bed, now in his underwear. “I’m sorry, lovie,” he whines, practically crawling on top of you to put his face in your stomach. “It’s shit to be poorly for so long. Have you been sick again since we left?”

You have to think about it, but shake your head. This seems to satisfy James somewhat. 

“Did you drink your fluids?” Sirius asks. You nod this time. He walks over to the water bottle on the nightstand, giving it an experimental shake. “Still feels full.” 

Remus’ lips twitch at whatever look crosses your face. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it from your mouth. 

“I drank some,” you defend yourself. 

Sirius gives you a playful reprimanding look, but then his attention is Remus’ as Remus pulls the thermometer closer. “Thirty-nine point seven.” He sighs, bringing his hand to your head again. He pets your hair. “Sweetheart…” 

“Nothing hurts, still?” James asks you. 

“No,” you mumble, contrite. You feel like you’re disappointing them. 

Sirius crouches by the bed, leaning forward to give you a pillowy soft kiss on your forehead. He’s thrown on an old t-shirt of Remus’, worn and with holes in the soft fabric. “It’s okay, baby. It’s not your fault; you’ve always been hot, it’s only getting worse.” 

You give him a dry look. That joke got old within the first day of your fever, but the way he delivers it so solemnly now does make a smile tug at your lips. Sirius bumps his nose into your temple teasingly. 

“Might’ve helped if you drank your fluids, though.” 

“Fuck off,” you murmur. Really, you love having him so close, and Sirius seems to know this. His expression is smug as he gives you another conciliating kiss. 

Remus is looking down at the both of you like you’re his favorite annoyances. “I think it’s time to go to hospital,” he determines. 

You frown. “But you just came from there.” 

“Ugh, I know,” Sirius groans. “The things we do for you, hm?” 

“You don’t seem to be improving,” Remus says. “We need to get a better idea of what this is.” 

“Can’t it just be a stomach bug?” you sulk. 

He hums, sweeping his thumb over your forehead. It’s warm and calloused. “It’d be nice if it was,” he says, “but we ought to know for sure. And this doesn’t quite fit the parameters of a regular stomach bug, dovey.” 

“It’d be helpful to have some bloodwork done,” James agrees, sitting up a bit to prop his chin on your stomach. 

“Bloodwork?” you repeat. 

“I sure fucking hope it does,” quips Sirius. When you still look trepidatious, he laughs and smooches your cheek. “You’ll be fine, my love. We’ll take good care of you.” 

“The best care,” James seconds, sitting up on his haunches to un-pin your stomach from the bed. “C’mon, let’s get up.” 

You eye all three of your boyfriends, but begin sitting up slowly. “You just got home. You really want to go back to work at” —you glance at the clock on your nightstand— “six thirty in the morning?” 

“That’s exactly what we want to do. You’re so smart, baby.” Sirius gives your cheek a pat. You pout at him in response; your head hurts now that you’re upright. “Anyway, I texted Mary at St. Bart’s, and she said we can get in if we go now.” 

Remus kisses Sirius’ head in silent thanks as James gets up to dig through a drawer of Remus’ jumpers for you both to put on. 

“We just love work so much,” he jokes, tossing you one. Sirius catches it before it can hit you. “We can hardly stay away, you know? Plus, bring your girlfriend to work day is a great time, I hear.” 

“So fun,” you sigh, resigned. 

Sirius smiles softly at you as he pulls Remus’ jumper over your head. “That’s the spirit.”

[ouchmaster6000]

Okay, but like, you realize 90% of the problem is the female fans right? Its mostly female fans and fic writers that will focus on the male characters because they are hot and will hate on the female ones because they get in the way of their yaoi ships.

It definitely ain't the straight male Baldurs Gate 3 fans, for example, that are responsible for Asterion getting a disproportionate amount of focus compared to Karlach and Laezel. Its 100% the women playing the game.

Hell, just about every fandom I'm in where the female characters outnumber the male ones has a primarily male fanbase, with a only a few of the more popular / mainstream ones, like Madoka Magica, having a pretty even split between male and female fans.

By contrast, the only fandom with mostly male characters I'm part of where I feel confident in saying still overwhelmingly male, despite having an influx of female fans in recent years is Warhammer 40k.

And before you bring up guys calling certain female characters mary sues in recent years, that has nothing to do with those characters being female.

Most guys hating on Rey like Leia

Most guys hating on Captain Marvel enjoyed the Wonder Woman movie, or have other female superheroes they like.

Most guys hating on Korra, love Katara, Toph and Azula. (Plus alot of guys actully like Korra too, including me, shes not actually as hated as the previous two examples.)

I'm not saying female characters getting overlooked in favor of male ones isn't a thing happening in a lot of fandoms - It totally is. But to blame it on misogyny is completely disingenuous, since it implies its mostly men's fault. When in reality it's mostly the female fans.

really is bizarre the way fandoms largely do not like women at ALL. it’s been happening for ages but when you see people straight up just hating on women characters more often now (+ the general rise in misogyny) and then you come on here and everyone’s just pretending women don’t even EXIST in any media ever. it’s like that’s not much better. fandom isn’t activism but it does reveal people’s internal biases. like women being excluded, sidelined and erased in everythingggg. people will take characteristics that are compelling in a female character and give it to a man in fan content just so they don’t have to engage with a woman ever. fics, fan art, ships, etc. a hollywood produced movie/tv show won’t even sideline a woman as much as the average fandom blogger will

[niinnyu]

How do you think Gerry would feel if he'd been able to hear Jon defending him to Trevor and Julia when they came for his page?

Chummy?

I did remove some of the dialogue a bit, mostly from Julia and Trevor because ultimately that isn't what the comic is about but just a fair warning.

Went a bit insane thinking of this while drawing this so a bit of made up AU lore for this comic.

When Jon burns Gerry's page he says "you owe me" and while he doesn't mean it, Beholding does. Gerry is sorta bound to Jon now in that he manifests anytime Trevor and Julia are a threat to Jon (because technically it would be Gerry's fault that they're after him). But in classic Ceaseless Watcher fashion, he can only watch as a ghost, and never interact or intervene. No one knows he's there.

He is finally free once Julia and Trevor both die, knowing that Jon is safe at least from them.

[housemdork]

so. i know that fighting on the wilson defense squad is a little taboo around here...but i still want to share the germ of a thought that i've had, which i'll definitely expand on in the future.

does anyone hear me when i say that so much of wilson's work is silent and unseen?

i mean this, first, quite literally regarding his practice. it's a rarity, seeing wilson interact directly with his cancer patients without being called in for a consult. we hear about his patients all the time, just not often by name. but whether because we're in house's POV, or because the show aligns with house's belief that "cancer is boring," we don't see wilson practicing oncology that much in the grand scheme of things, even compared to the snippets of ER and surgery life that cameron and chase move on to, respectively.

house pokes fun at wilson's oncology all the time, and pretty definitively in 2x04 when he makes fun of medical specialists. to house, things are simpler for them; house views them as existing in a box, much smaller than his grand purview over things. wilson's work is relegated away from the main text of the show; he operates in isolation, which hurts in the long run.

wilson's own cancer experience is profoundly impacted by the pain of loss he's endured over the years, watching his patients die. he rattles off their names, their cancers, their ages, and the dates they died to house from memory. we never saw these patients. house probably never did, either, so we can only learn of this pain afterwards. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

finally, the work wilson puts into his friendship with house is often invisible. i won't ever paint wilson as the ideal friend - that would completely ruin any interpretation of his character - but i find it disingenuous to ignore the strain house puts on him, however self-inflicted. what starts out as trickles of jokes and subtle hints (the loans), evolves into the season 3 medical license debacle, which evolves into wilson's repeated responsibility for house's mental health (which isn't even mandated by house, but by those around wilson and house), which finally evolves into house attempting to control wilson's last wishes. repeatedly, wilson is nominated, especially by dr. nolan in season 6 and foreman in season 8, to be house's steward, and who else would do it, but him?

big example: we never see the decision for house to move into wilson's place, but all the energy in the world is put into wilson asking house to leave. it's first presented as a natural assumption, then a mortal sin.

unlike the other characters surrounding house, the origins of wilson and house are usually only hinted at. their history unfolds across the entire show, and that includes the good and the bad parts that are only heard about in passing and in retrospect. at the start of season 5, wilson, at his most honest, breaks the hardest news to house yet - that he's leaving PPTH because of him.

"i've enabled it for years. the games, the binges, the middle-of-the-night phone calls...if i've learned anything from amber, it's that i need to take care of myself."

again, we learn of this long-term pain afterwards, once house takes a beat to digest it. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

say what you like about what wilson asked house to do in 4x16 (it kills me, personally). i cannot completely fault wilson for telling house this ^. as much as house needs to change, wilson does, too. amber was right about that. we can gauge the strain that house has in his relationships based on how many work out long-term: one.

and later, funny as it is in the moment, wilson is the one to go to physically check in on house in 7x01 when it was VERY apparent that he should not have gone home alone (not to dismiss foreman's attempt in 6x22 to be there for him, though). house's fake voicemail message attests to this: "if this is wilson, i'm fine, not suicidal, not on drugs, coping very well with the loss of my last patient, so feel free to go about your day without worry."

i understand why he crawled through that window! after six seasons of this, i would have done the same!

i argue the same about house that i do about wilson - these 2, despite how messed up they are when it comes to human goodness and love - could not do what they do if they did not have the capacity to love. they're both rewarded in their own, twisted ways; house is gratified that, if nothing else, his brain sets him apart and preserves his sense of self, while wilson gets to feel loved in the way he can never quite fulfill elsewhere. does that cancel out the lives they save and soothe along the way?

all of this is to say that it's easy to brand wilson with a red "morally corrupt guy who pretends otherwise" stamp across his forehead because i think that's what house md tempts us to do by mandating how, when, and what we see of wilson's life. trust me - i'm trudging through season 2 right now and fast approaching his rendezvous with grace. but over time, i think the show invites us to treat him with sympathy and nuance in the same way it does house. if we penalize wilson too much for returning to house, and for needing his neediness, that may just imply that house doesn't deserve that sort of love. and we know that isn't the case.

isn't there more poetic irony than the oncologist getting cancer at hand? what about cancer as the silent-killer? what about cancer eating at every part of the body, slowly, over time? unseen and unheard?

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Fallout leaves you scrambling for who really has your back and who doesn't. The Empire reaches the western sect and lays down the law. You're given one hell of an apology. 

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

"Tch, that many times that fast isn't possible." Clearly you've never had lesbian sex. NSFW

[Part one] [Ao3] [24] [Chapter Index]

25 * Alliances [15.3k]

        Behind Mohawk's boots, the stars passed by. Unknowing, uncaring of your plight, spasming on the floor, drooling at the mouth. You tried to imagine there was something out in the universe that would save you. Something righteous that wouldn't let this happen. But no God comes bashing trough the window, you were left to fend for yourself like you had in prison, under Machine Head, in the desert. It was never-ending.

        You didn't see him as you were facing the window, but Gray was at the top of the stairs, fists clenched. You didn't hear him, were too scared to move and set off another spasm fit. But he heard everything, wanted to step in when he heard you scream, saw you drop to your knees. Heard your heart hammering in terror- but that was it, you were still alive- weren't you? He knew Mohawk would take some sort of disciplinary action. Viltrumites were not a forgiving people. If Gray's version of you had acted like that, a higher up would have killed her before he even got a say. The fact you were alive after that clear disrespect was paramount to Mohawk's care for you. Still, he hadn't told Gray about this... collar, he'd called it. Supposed it could corral you, but did he really have to go to such barbaric measures? Gray would have started by taking away more simple pleasures and amenities like his mother had done when he disobeyed as a child. You were a human from an Earth unclaimed by the Empire, you didn't know what you were up against.

        Mohawk didn't look at Gray. The man was an afterthought that Mohawk knew wouldn't step in. Gray was already proving to be a good lap dog, you could learn a thing or two from him.

       Mohawk spoke, "Oh, don't pout." You weren't pouting, you were in acute shock. "You knew I'd have to curb your bullshit eventually. This is really your fault for acting out." Now that you were subdued, hurting, his voice took a smooth, balmy tone. "I still care about you. I wish things didn't have to be this way." Only your eyes moved, rolling in their sockets towards his voice, set reddened on him like a sick dog. Your mouth moved but no sounds come out, throat pulsing with pain. "Don't look at me like that, I mean it. I'll take it off once you learn to behave, but until then." Mohawk knelt down and got a better look at your face, pressed to the floor and stupid. He reached toward your neck, sleeve dragging in your pool of spit, and tugged on the metal heart in the collar's middle. "I've gotta keep a better handle on you is all. Doesn't mean I love you any less."

        Kregg's voice buzzed in his ear.

        "I have to go. Duty calls, you know?" The only response he got was the malice twinkling in your teary eyes. He patted your cheek. "I won't take you along. You can go wherever you like, except you know, the stuff I've restricted because it's too dangerous for a human. Just be back in bed by one o'clock. If you're not well..." Another tug at the collar, but there's no humor in his voice like there normally was. "It's got a tracker, I'll find ya." 

        You couldn't roll out of the way as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your tear-slicked cheek. Mohawk paused as he pulled away. "Shit, right we don't have clocks you could read." Kregg said something else in his ear. Ever since he got back, it was all work, no play. "I'll just have someone get you if I'm busy."

        He rose to his feet and finally caught Gray's eye. "I told you to leave, didn't I?"

        Behind Gray's back, his hands were fists. "You did, sir. But.." His eyes flickered to you, just as much a weakness to him as you were to Mohawk.

        "Well-" At that moment, Markus burst into the room. He heard the scream from nearby and rushed over to find this- you twitching on the ground. He went to grab for you but Mohawk blocked him with his legs. "She's fine. Just a little disciplinary action."

        Markus thought you'd get a talking to. Thought maybe the Emperor would be more like himself, fuck you and not let you cum as punishment but this was certainly not that. "She doesn't look fine."

        Markus looked around Mohawk. Saw you shivering and crying. Saw the collar locked around your neck and was transported back in time. You'd been a collared submissive in his dimension, nothing as flashy as what Mohawk had you in, but it was the symbolism that mattered. You'd wanted it, asked for it even when he was hesitant. He came around to it, loved pulling you around but with consensual preamble. This was beyond that. You hadn't wanted this. You resisted. You were scared, he could hear your heart's stuttering beats. He was reminded of your face right before he snapped your neck. 

        "Might be touchy for a few minutes but my sensors say she's completely fine." Mohawk replied. You still hadn't turned to look at them, he could barely make out your face in the glass. 

        He wanted to rip the Emperor's head from his flared collared shoulder. But he couldn't. There was too much at stake, your safety for one. All Markus could do was feel a deep mourning in his chest. He'd find a way to dig you out of the grave you dug yourself. He'd pull you out kicking and screaming if he had to, as long as he could get that horrible thing off you. 

        He had to at least try saying, "Are you sure about that? She doesn't respond well to-"

        "Who's the Emperor?" 

        Markus shut his mouth. Mohawk smirked, "Good. Now, I want you both with me, there's something we have to attend to down in medical." Where Markus had just been. 

        "We're taking her there?" Gray asked, voice hopeful.

        "No. She needs time alone to think." Mohawk said.

        "Then I'm not going." Markus said.

        "Neither am I."

        Mohawk's eyes narrowed on them. "An' here I was thinking you two were shapin' up to be real ass lickers. Look at you, standin' up to me. Should kill you for that." He didn't sound it, but Mohawk was mildly impressed. Everyone in the empire bent a knee to his will, but not these other versions of him despite being so thoroughly outnumbered and outclassed.

        "You know you can't." Markus said, stepping closer to you. "Do what you need to do but I'm not-"

        "Go." Talking burned like bile coming up a raw throat. They all turned to you. Still in the same spot on the ground. 

        Markus's brow pinched, "I'm not leaving you."

        If he wanted his stupid plan to work, he had to. If you ever wanted to free again, he had to. You didn't think about that in the moment though, you could only think about the humiliation of them seeing you like this. Scorned them for not being faster, for not stopping this before it happened. Angry at everyone and everything. "Just go." 

        "Mm. Look at you agreeing with me already." Mohawk went for the stairs. "Should'a done this sooner."

        The duo was hesitant behind Mohawk, throwing concerned glances over their shoulders but if they wanted to rise the ranks, get enough intel to navigate this place and bide time until Angstrom was usable? They had to go, so they did. 

        Again, you were alone. 

        Scared, angry, and hurting. Knowing the only way to thrive was to act the same way you had under Machine Head. Never reacting to his jabs, doing whatever he said. You had made it work sometimes content with things, but this was worse. Not only because of the mixed feelings involved but the fact that you had gotten a taste of freedom with Machine Head's death. In the desert there was danger, but you heeled to no master. It was nice not holding your tongue, being happy, yourself- while it lasted. You should've known it would end like this.

        Except this wasn't the end. You weren't dead. After some time you peeled your spit-stuck cheek off the floor and sat up. The first place you went was the kitchenette, looking for scissors. There was a tiny pair, good for cutting ends off plastic wrapping. It didn't make a dent in the flexible material wrapped around your neck.

        You left the observation deck entirely. The whole place tainted. This whole ship tainted because wherever you went, Mohawk would know where to catch you. You meandered aimlessly, looking for a place to curl up to hide and cry. There was Mohawk's room but there way no way you'd go there voluntarily. There was the lab, but you couldn't get in without Mohawk, weren't even supposed to be in there without supervision. Maybe Mark's cell if you could find it. Wouldn't it be so satisfying for him to see you like this? He'd say you deserved it, should've seen it coming. The thought makes you want to hurt him but you can't anymore, you'd been thoroughly declawed.

        You wandered aimlessly. Ended up a few levels higher than where you'd been. When you saw him down the long hall wearing grays and having that face, it didn't register that he doesn't have a mohawk. You turned, head down, and looked for a door to disappear in but go corpse still when he calls out, "Oh shit, hey (Y/n)!"

        You were coming up with things to say, biting, but not enough to warrant another round when he swings around your front. So clearly not Mohawk you almost sighed with relief. 

        Seb took one look at you and said, "Whoa, you look like shit."

        You scowled, "Don't act stupid. You knew this was coming." Your voice came out raspy. You immediately regretted it, thinking he could have a remote control too. You flinched, expecting a shock. 

        Seb blinked. "What?" He was too busy checking you out to notice the collar until you lifted your chin. "Whoa? Is that new? Emperor dude get it for you, huh? Kinda cute." He reached out to tug on it teasingly, "Didn't think you for someone who'd be into-" but paused when you flinched away.

        "Don't play dumb." Except you didn't think he was, you're fishing for answers. Wondering if Markus's horrified face had been genuine, if Seb's was, if Gray's hesitation had been knowing.

        "Look dude, I'm plenty dumb but I can't be dumb if I dunno what we're talkin' 'bout." 

        You pulled on the collar as you told him what it was. By the end of it, you were about to keel over crying but you held it in, barely. 

        "Uh oh..." Seb scratched the back of his neck just for something to do with his hands, "No. No, I didn't know about that. Do you uh, want some help?" You silently nodded, lips sucked in trying not to cry. Seb reached out but didn't touch before he asked, "This isn't gonna kill you right?"

        "I don't think so." Your laugh was humorless. "The last time it shocked me so hard I almost pissed myself." You had to try. Mohawk said only he could take it off, maybe it extended to the variants. "Do it."

        "Please don't piss yourself." His hands came to either side of the collar, gently curling under the material. You braced for impact that didn't come- not until he started to pull.

        Your body was melting everywhere, all at once. The tears came loose, your knees turned to jelly. Seb caught you before you fall, kneeling down and letting you go limp against him. He stopped as soon as he felt a tickle in his fingers that was much, much worse for you.

        "Holy shit. Holy fucking shit." He believed you but thought you were exaggerating. Rex always had. Mohawk really was crazy.

        Across the ship, Mohawk felt a vibration in his wrist cuff,  lifting his arm to look at it. 1 shock administered. Followed by a pull up of the nearest camera, snug into the corner of a hall. He saw your heaving back, Seb holding you upright on the ground. He knew at least one of them would be sympathetic to your plight, try and help when they shouldn't. Not that he'd told Seb not to but come on, man, bro code.

        Gray peaked over his arm but didn't catch a glimpse, looking away when Mohawk glared. Markus got a peak while he was distracted. At least you were alive enough to cry. He could tell by the shake of your back.

        You were conscious but couldn't get your legs back under you. Everytime you tried, something would twitch or go too loose or tight and you'd fall. Seb kept you upright, head hooked over his shoulder.

        "Dude, stop, you gotta lie down." He floated slow, scared he'd somehow give you shaken baby syndrome moving too fast. The journey wasn't far. In the end, you realized he was a few flights and a hall away from Mohawk's room. 

        You were in a haze. Uncontrollably dripping tears onto Seb's shoulder until he laid you down onto his mattress. You looked up at an empty white ceiling and didn't look away for some time. 

        Seb hovered over you, constantly scared you'd die or seize out. He'd been with Rex through plenty of bad trips and a few overdoses. Sometimes he thought Rex wasn't going to make it, that he was going to be totally alone in the world because nobody got him, not like Rex did. But he always found a way to pull through. Rex survived Dad's suggestion of killing  him for being a 'bad influence', survived the takeover of Earth because he cooperated. Rex didn't survive the rebellion, Eve got revenge for what Rex had helped Seb do to those Guardians losers. He'd been so alone for so long, just coasting by while Dad or other Viltrumites bossed him around. Then he met you and Oliver, but guessed he wasn't allowed to have nice things because Oliver was dead and you were just a human stuck in an impossible situation. He couldn't lose another friend. 

        Somehow he played it cool. Casual when your neck stopped randomly tensing and your hand stopped curling into a fist. "So uh, why would he do that?"

        Your eyes moved to him. Stood by the open hole in the wall that was his dresser, hung with four duplicates of the same outfit he was wearing. The room was jail-cell tiny and just as unfurnished. A bed and a dresser and probably a bathroom hidden in the walls. The sheet you were laid on was blue. You wanted to get up, get away from the color like it'd done this to you but you knew it was a bad idea. 

        "He made me a dog." You said.

        Seb cringed and turned away. You thought he was feeling the sting of second hand embarrassment at your crying, he hadn't handled it well before. In reality, Seb was digging out a hidden bottle from his closet. "Uh. One'a those alien guys showed me where they kept some'a the meds. Think he thought I was the Emperor at first or soemthin' cuz he let me take this whole thing." He presented a white bottle, stamped with Viltrum's logo. Alien language labeling its contents in tiny text. "All I know is, I drank a whole bottle and I got pretty drunk the first night back. So for a human I wouldn't take more than a cup full but..." He held it out to you, "Want some?" He wasn't good with comforting words, but he was good to get drunk with.

        You took the bottle and shimmied up onto your elbows. Seb sat himself at the foot of the bed, watching as you poured the milky liquid into a bottle cap and threw it back. It burned going down, hit your stomach like a bomb, you had to keep yourself from puking it back up.

        Mohawk watched your vitals on his wrist screen when he should have been paying attention to the Martian bio-engineer. Your heart rate and blood pressure were a given to monitor but he'd also had an atmospheric breathalyzer installed and somewhere near you, something fatally alcoholic had been introduced to the environment. He lowered his wrist, knowing you'd be fine. The old you had kept a bottle of that same toxic poison hidden for emergencies awhile ago. Almost drank yourself to death before he found it and got rid of the thing. Killed a decent number of medical wing staff to get the point across to never give you random drugs. Hopefully, you didn't develop a taste for it. Synthetic Eskewnian blood was hard to synthesize and too useful to run out of.

        You leaned over the bed, holding your head as light-headedness washed over you faster than with codeine. Seb took the bottle and drank deeply. He lowered it, sheer white liquid rolling down his chin.

        "Man, that tastes like ass." You didn't respond. He glanced at you, face grave. So he took a breath, and as though he was the head of a bomb squad, asked quietly and carefully, "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

        "No." You snapped. "Literally anything else. Please."

        Seb had stories, stupid ones but he drew blank after blank. The Empire had infected his mind. Made him remember what he'd rather forget. It came out, hot and bitter like puke, "You know, I was part of the Empire in my universe too." You gave him a withering look. "What? It's not about your..." Calling Mohawk your boyfriend right now felt mean, "That dickhead." He corrected. You looked away and he took it as a go-ahead. "All this shit's crazy new to me too. Like, I knew they'd be uptight and all but geez man these uniforms? Go right up your ass if you're not careful." He waited for you to laugh, you didn't. "I mostly stayed on Earth as a like, enforcer for the rebellion you know? I didn't care about it though, it was all my Dad's idea. I just kinda coasted by, did enough stuff they wouldn't be mad at me." Even if he had gone above and beyond, Dad would still have found a way to be disappointed. Just the nature of their relationship.

        You were swaying slightly in your seat now. "Soooo, what's coasting on Viltrum, committing only partial genocides?" You recalled what Omni Man said on TV. What the media openly speculated he had planned.

        Seb sighed and leaned forward on his knees, "Yeah, but like, I stalled a lot. Not cuz I'm a pussy or whatever but cuz these guy's are always on your ass to work. It's like can a guy please take a month to find a rebel planet but mostly smoke Saturn's seventy-fourth moon gas station weed?"

        "When I said I didn't wanna talk about it I meant all of this shit. Even that stupid planet." You slurred.

        "Ah, shit my bad."

        "No," you waved him off, changing your mind on a dime, your brain a soup from both the alcohol and repeated shocks, "It's fine. I should know more about this stupid shit anyway, cuz guess whose gonna be forced to be empress one day!?" You looked around, faux searching before pointing at your chest, "Me!" 

        "Jesus. That's gotta be heavy. And you can't say no if he's got you in a shock collar like a freakin' dog." Seb kicked out his feet. "Man, Oliver would hate it here. He was smarter than me, he'd probably have figured out how to piss off by now. Wouldn't wanna be around all these scary ass old heads with sticks rammed up their asses."

       "You're smart." You said only because you were drunk, "You can figure stuff out."

        "You can too." Seb said, "You're in a better position than I am to do shit. I just get told to guard empty hallways and write down the temperatures. You got way more opportunities to like, spy."

        "Oh." Seb said stupidly. "Just don't get caught then?"

        "Plan's already blown before it started dude." You pulled at the collar, your terror of messing with it delayed from the alcohol, but a shock didn't come. You go on, "This thing's got a tracker. Probably knows I'm drunk. He knows everything I'm doing all the time, dude."

        Seb went pale. "Shit. Uhm." He scooted closer, lowered his head to be in line with your neck. "You know I'm just jokin' right bro? Lil bit'a drunk thoughts from a dumbass. I love this place actually, way better than my last apartment. Good beds, no roaches." He had no idea if there was a microphone and camera or not, but he was taking zero chances.

        You laughed at him. "You're a shitty liar."  A flash of your earlier encounter with Mohawk made you cringe. You couldn't believe you let him finger you like that. Then the meeting, maybe you did want to talk about it, "Can you believe that shit at the meeting?"

        Seb rolled back onto his palms, "Pretty crazy dude. I thought that old lady's head was gonna explode." He paused to take a drink. Continuing when his lips weren't wrapped around the bottle rim. "Soon as you left, she was like 'lets murder (Y/n)' and everyone was like 'uhhhhh no you decrepit, weirdly sexy old lady, stop.'"

        You decided to ignore most of what he'd said. The fear that should have come with that knowledge was dulled in your inebriation. "Is she the oldest bitch here?"

        "Uhhh, she looks old so that's a bad sign for how far she is up the empire's ass. Lucan, the bald guy, he's like three thousand and looks thirty so she's like... seven, eight thousand? I dunno."

        You blinked, not even really comprehending what that meant. Omni man had implied they lived a long time, but eight thousand years? Your head dipped as you looked down at him, "How fucking long do you guys even live?"

        "Uhhhh." Seb rubbed at his temples that now throbbed with subtle drunkenness. "Think Dad told me one time uhhh... Man, I think I was like fifteen and really high so lets say... Forever? But hey, Viltumites are always going to war and killing eachother, so they still die a lot."

        You groaned and pulled at your face. "God. All this alien bullshit makes my head hurt."

        He laughed and patted your thigh as he said, "That's just cuz you're drunk off mystery juice."

        True. "Ok yeah, but you know what I don't get then? If he's going to live forever and I'm here," your arms felt light and floaty as you held them overhead, "wearing this," you pointed down to your neck, "when I'll live max eighty years. Why couldn't he be obsessed over some immortal bitch instead of me?"

        "I mean, our medicines probably will hella extend your life but like. He loved you before he knew about most of the alien shit, so there's that. Also, no offense, you can't fight back like a Viltrumite could." The longer Seb talked the more he realized, "This is so fucked up, dude." You sat up, head bobbing. "Whoa bro, don't move so fast."

        "I'm just..." You wanted to get up walk around, try and forget. Your legs still feel weak and you could barely sit upright. You ended up flopping to the side, head falling limply on his shoulder. "This sucks."

        Seb went tense but didn't push you off. It was nice having someone who actually wanted him around. "Should you be doin' that? He's probably watchin' us right now."

        "He doesn't care what happens to me." You slurred and when he was still stiff under you, you added, "I'm not gonna fuck you by the way."

        "Didn't say that."

        "Sorry I just-" You ached all over, head light and stupid. "-Feel like everyone wants something from me all the time."

        "Look bro, you're hot and all but I'm not gonna fuck around when you're all sad n' shit." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "Boner killer and like... I think you just like need a buddy right now, ya'know?" He knew, because he needed one too. He'd prefer if the companionship came with some sex but that could be later, when things weren't so messed up. 

        You leaned harder into him, cheek squishing on his shoulder. "Thanks."

        ***

        "So you can do it?" The Emperor asked.

        He'd kept a running tab of who did what in the desert. Phantom worked with GDA tech, had it all over his suit. If anyone could turn that awful ringer into an implant, it'd be Phantom.

        "It'd take time to fix it. Then convert it from Earth tech to Viltrum tech." Phantom was sat back in the same room you'd found him in. The alien doctor finishing up the last of the calibrations after his own limbs had sent thousands of volts into his muscles. Mohawk stood framed in the door, his two newest sentries stood on their side of him, forcing their faces blank. 

        Phantom had run into the debilitating frequency before. After his Dad was imprisoned, Phantom was summoned to Atlantis to atone for his father's slaying of King Aquarus. The GDA thought they wanted him to marry the queen but he was actually tried by combat. He fought a monster that screeched so loud his eardrums burst and rendered him nearly useless. Mohawk nodded along to the story, because he had received the same summoning, but just killed everyone living in Atlantis. Killed the monster so fast he didn't get a chance to hear it. The first time he heard it was fighting the Reanimen in your reality. 

        Before Angstrom came to Grayson, Cecil had been threatening to put a chip in his head, to control him. After everything Dad did he'd gotten rougher with criminals, killed them when he hadn't before. Cecil thought he was just lashing out, that he'd heal but on the inside Phantom had rotted entirely. There was no sweet hero left in him, only a mourning, murderous thing that wanted you back by any means necessary.

        The Empire didn't have the tech to replicate the hyper-specific frequency just yet, but something needed to be done about Scars and Lensless. Thula and Lucan were strong, fast, and wise beyond their years but they were needed on the battle front when they get closer to the rebel planets. They couldn't be babysitting those assholes the whole time. The solution, a chip implanted in their brain that screeched at them anytime they got out of line, just like Grayson had been threatened with. 

        "Our scientists can help speed that along." Mohawk's words weren't generous. He needed as many eyes as possible on Phantom to keep him honest. He knew the little freak was a planner, if he worked alone he'd try to put something in the code. And of course, the Emperor was always right, he was already thinking of ways to use this opportunity to his advantage. 

        "Thank you." Phantom said robotically. "For that and," his mechanical limbs moved, not as smoothly as he'd like, but it was better than before, "these. I know that must've been costly on your part." He was thankful but he still had concerns, "But..." Mohawk's lips thinned, Phantom knew he should show submission, especially after he swore loyalty not two minutes ago but he had to ask, "Why keep them alive in the first place? I know you need soldiers but can't we find people from other planets who would fight for us? Those two are an unnecessary risk."

        Markus and Gray agreed though they didn't show it.

        Mohawk surprised Phantom by saying, "Look, I don't want them around either but we need all the Viltrumites we can get. They're already causing problems." On the way here, a servant came running to Mohawk, frantic about the murdered pilot in the cockpit. Viltrum ships didn't technically need to be steered, for the most part it was self sufficient, powered by algorithms they'd been improving for centuries, the pilot was there in case those systems broke down- which they never did. Pilot was a position for idiots, that was why an alien with half a brain was stationed as one.

        Scars had killed the thing before poking and prodding around the cockpit. Hunting for secrets, a way to take full control of the ship. Thula had let him, knowing the pilot was useless and the tech was near infallible. It was a blatant show of disrespect for Mohawk's belongings and she had sent him a message that was ignored as he was busy with you, before sending a servant to intercept him.

        Then there was Lensless who was always trying to get Lucan to fight him. Lunging at him whenever and wherever he could. The two ended up bashing through a few walls that the servants were still trying to repair. Mind you, this is all before meal time. They needed to be put on a tighter leash. 

        "I can't dispose of them yet, it'd be easier for everyone if they could do stuff without taking up my lead officers' days." Mohawk said.

        There was an added bonus of letting them roam the ship without babysitters. If you ran into them alone, they'd nip at your heels, chase you around like a bunch of rabid school boys. Without the assumed protection of Thula and Lucan to stop them, you'd be so scared you'd run right back into Mohawk's arms, his protection. You'd come to see there were scarier and worse versions of him to hate. You'd come to forgive him to know you were wrong. 

       Phantom could almost see this thought on Mohawk's face, because he'd have done the same thing. In fact, if he played his cards right, you'd run into his arms instead. "Understood. Show me the lab and I'll get right to work."

        ***

        For awhile, you sat drunk, leaning on Seb. Wetting the collar of his uniform so close to what his supersuit had been but in gray with Viltrum's logo on the chest. Even though you'd taken a third of a shot, your head still swam a half hour later. You should-

        Something in Seb's uniform vibrated. He lifted his forearm. A rectangle in the fabric glowed to life, displaying blue text. Mealtime available until 37:30. "Do you wanna go get lunch?"

        "You read my mind."

        "Actually this little fuckass iPod read your mind." 

        "That is not an iPod."

        "Tomato tah-mato."

        Seb led you down the halls and downstairs. Explaining the whole way while you both stumbled over your feet. Soldiers had strict time schedules they had to adhere to. You caught Seb between tasks. He was supposed to take a whole hour to check oil reserves that the ship did for itself anyway. He half-assed the job and went to take a nap when he ran into you.  

        If he missed his time slot, the door to the mess hall simply wouldn't open for him. It was now or wait thirty hours till his next designated meal time. He'd survive, he'd gone a lot longer without eating in the desert, but he preferred to eat. They helped him almost forget the smoked and dried taste of his own flesh.

        Oh, that was another fun fact you'd somehow missed in your misery, the whole ship ran on Viltrum time where days weren't twenty-four hours but fifty. When Mohawk said be back by one, he meant tomorrow morning. Twenty-something hours from now, while he worked all the way through that time like it was nothing. Jesus. 

        The door opened just fine, even with you in tow. Unlike other rooms, the furniture was out without the probing of a floor button. A handful of thick tables waited all with a single chair pulled up. Surfaces metal and shining under harsh white light. There was no kitchen staff milling about or window to order food from. Seb trotted to the closest table and borrowed a chair from an adjoining table. 

         He flopped down on the chair, tall high-back and white, and patted the one next to him. You slid into it, asking, "Do Viltrumites like... Photosynthesize or?"

        Seb snorted as he touched a finger to the table. A screen flashed. Ah. Of course, another hidden screen. It was a menu, showing off today's options from the kitchen without photos and all the descriptions were vague. Meat dish with fiber. Gluten, that's it, just the description gluten.

        "Whadd'ya want?" Seb asked. "This one's my favorite." He tapped on hydrating meat dish adding it to his order. You stared at the screen, too drunk for this. "I know it's a lil weird at first, but everything I've had here isn't actually bad, better than those bugs." 

          After what Mohawk did, you weren't very hungry but you knew you should eat, couldn't remember the last time you had. It'd also help with how drunk you were, keep the buzz but not the stumbling. So you pointed to the thing that seems the most normal within your tastes. Seb added it to the order and sent it to the kitchen, no payment required. Viltrum erased all need for currency exchange. They did things for each other to keep the empire running without the corrupting force of money. If only Argall could see his empire was a corrupting force to the rest of the universe.

        Seb told you the kitchen was under your feet, you remembered vaguely Mohawk telling you it took up a whole level. When they were ready the dishes would be sent up through the thick table support which was actually a chute. You killed time trying to joke but everything fell flat. You still couldn't believe the collar was there, though the longer you wore it, the less you felt the weight.

        The door slid open, bringing a familiar huffy voice with it.

        "Okay, okay- I'm going inside." You saw a Mark step inside, one-eyed and skirtless, followed closely by Lucan. Lensless dragged his heels, uncaring that Lucan was pushing him into the mess hall. "Look, we made it, will you fight me now?"

        "No sir." Lucan sounded exasperated, adding flatly, "Perhaps once you've eaten."

        "You said that last time." Lensless countered.

        "Eat." Lucan said.

        "What if I don't?" Lensless spun on him, grinning and cracking his knuckles, "You gonna try n' make me? Gonna fight me?" 

        "No." 

        "Uggggggghhh. Everyone here is soooo lame." His head rolled on his shoulders. His working eye became a disc when he spotted you, slumped over a table with Seb who looked just as surprised to see him. "Oh! (Y/n)! Thank God I was getting so bored with this loser." He floated over and pulled up a chair that he slammed down next to yours. 

        Seb leaned down just to be fully visible past your frame. "Uh, she's already sittin' with me dude." Was the best defense he had.

        Seb hadn't seen Lensless or Scars anywhere besides the meetings. He liked to keep it that way, with how things ended in the desert. Everytime he thought about Scars he got so angry the blood rushed in his ears and he couldn't feel his fingers, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was weak. Needed to use all the free time his slacking gained him to get stronger. Avenge Oliver. Protect you.

        "Do you know how friends work? Did you know you can have multiple at a time? Crazy, right?" Lensless scooted his chair so close it scraped against your own. His shoulder brushed yours as he tapped at the order screen and snagged himself a protein dish (living). He turned over his shoulder, "Hey Lulu, what do you w- Why are you sitting over there?" He pouted at the man, sat three tables back. Relieved to have two seconds without the man glued onto his boot. 

        "Watching you." Lucan replied dryly. If he was being honest, Lucan was happy for the partial break in Lensless's constant steam of violence-seeking attention. Lucan was stronger, better than the boy, but any retaliation or reaction only riled the boy up more. He could only passively deal with this annoyance for so long. 

        Lensless huffed but made no more arguments as he sent his order through.

        "Sour puss." His attention snapped back to you, "That meeting was crazy, right? You've missed the last few. Where have you been?" He sounded like a long-term gal pal. Even shuffling closer like you wanted him there. You held your tongue, it wasn't like you could make him move away.

        You didn't reply. Seb voiced your discomfort, saying, "She doesn't wanna talk to you, bro."

        "Aww! You're letting me do the talking for both of us! You're so considerate (Y/n)." Lensless half hugged you, pulling you hard to his side by your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. The way you went stiff at the contact was expected, but the feeling something that wasn't skin against his face was not.

        He pulled back a bit, ignoring your clear discomfort.

        "Hey," he unwound his arm from your side and reached for the collar, "What's this?"

        The way you jerked back and slapped his hand told him it wasn't, "Nothing," like you said.

        "It's obviously a necklace." Seb added.

        "Yeah." You scooted away, bumping your chair into Seb's. "A necklace."

        Lensless took that moment of silence to properly observe you, he saw telltale burst blood vessels in your eyes, irritated by recent sobbing.

        "You sound nervous." Lensless said casually. "Don't lie to me." Yet there was an underlying threat in his tone. If Lucan didn't reign him in, you and Seb were on your own.

        "I'm not, I just don't like being around you." You lied. 

        Lensless leaned forward, scrutinizing you with a single, mischief gleaming eye. Two trays of food rose up in the center of the table and he shot out of your personal space. Reaching for the gray tray holding a fleshy head with eyes still rolling in its sockets. Brains purple and glistening, tiny useless arms trying and failing to get it off Lensless's dinner tray. You and Seb watched in mild horror as he pulled out one of the things' eyes and popped it into his mouth. Shuddering with satisfaction as he bit down and raw eye juice splashed over his tongue. 

        "Look, we match." He said when he swallowed. His food was screaming.

        "Oh man." Seb sounded sick. "I wish I wasn't so hungry." He pulled your shared tray closer. His food was some sort of alien appendage, luckily very dead and without any eyes. It was purple with suction cups doused in a sauce that smelled of hot honey. He got to eating right away, slurping disgustingly with no use of the provided utensils. You picked at your food, trying not to think about the collar pressing on your throat every time you swallowed or how Lensless's food was still alive but could no longer scream.

        Lensless yammered on about everything. His new schedule- full- his work- mega boring- how Scars was doing- always training or trying to lose Thula.

         "I thought we'd have the same meal block together but I guess they knew that'd be a bad idea." He said, stirring the alien's open brains with a fork. "Which is true but kinda boring for me, so I'm so glad I get to sit with you. But I wanna hear about that guy he killed today. I had to make a servant tell me, but I wanna hear it from the actual guy himself. You know, he's really cool if you get past the edgy thing. He's great, really, you should hang out with us sometime (Y/n)." 

        Seb wiped slippery grease from his lips with the back of his hand. "Nobody wants to be your bro, bro."

        "I wasn't talking to you." Lensless chirped. "You're weak and that's suuuper boring but you," his eyes landed on the collar, oh no, "you haven't used your powers on me yet to make me shut up or go away. I think this is longest you've ever let me talk. Why is that?"

        "I'm practicing ignoring you." You said.

        "Mmm. No, that's not your style. You're always veryyy," he rolled his wrist, thinking, "forward even when it's like, really stupid to be. Just kinda weird. Are you feeling okay?" He laid a palm across your forehead. 

        "I'm drunk so I'm great, thanks." You tilted your head back but his touch didn't leave. No matter how you moved, he kept a hand on you. "Get off."

        "Mmmm, nah. Not unless you make me."

        Seb reached around you, grabbing Lensless by the wrist. "She said stop." 

        Lensless didn't move but he smiled. "What? Are you gonna fight me? That'd be kinda fun."

        They both know Seb would lose. Lensless would have a grand ole time painting the room with his blood. Lucan wouldn't do shit about it until Seb was near death. Then and only then would he take him to the medbay because he was needed for the Empire. 

        Seb wasn't used to being the weaker person. He was literally Invincible. He killed heroes and villains alike. Aliens and humans. He wasn't weak but Lensless was just... better. He wasn't used to being nervous. He could take a beating, but a fight here meant you in the crossfire and he couldn't lose another friend. "You're not gonna fight me on the ship, dude. We'd break a bunch of shit."

        "He might." Lucan deadpanned between bites of some glutinous jelly.

        "I think I will." Lensless dropped his fork, letting the prongs slip into the congealed brains. He pulled his fist back, angling it to swing around your neck and knock Seb's already notched nose more to the right. "If you don't want me to hit him, you better stop me (Y/n)."

        With their arms caged around you like locked bull horns, with Seb's life suddenly in your hands, you were scared. 

        "I..."

        "I can handle it." Seb barked. "This time I'll fuckin' kill you, shithead." Despite his words, he didn't swing first. 

        "Oh yeah?" Lensless's grin grew impossibly wider. 

        It'd been a few (Earth) days since they last fought. There was no way Seb had gotten any stronger since then. He was going to get fucked up for you. The only person you wanted hurt right now was Mohawk. "Stop it."

        "Hm. I don't feel the urge to stop? Are you really using your powers?" 

        "Don't." Seb urged. 

        "I can't, asshole." Your confession made everything go still. In that moment, Lensless's food mercifully died. 

        Lensless pulled his arm easily out of Seb's grip. Reaching around your flailing hand, pulled at the collar, jerking you closer by the neck. "I thought that's what it was. Lemme see." He pressed his thumb to the collar's middle, gently flipping the inside toward him. Surly enough, a small metal disc was inlaid to the alien leather. "Shock collar, nice! I mean kinda sucks you can't use your powers on me. Honestly, I wish I had a shock collar and you didn't and you also had the controls but-"

        "Dude." Seb said warningly, "Let her go."

        "God, you are so annoying. Do you ever shut up?" Lensless muttered, running a thumb over the disc. Imagining you shocking him with twenty-million volts. What a dream.

        "Seb, it's fine." You said. You could deal with Mohawk shocking you to near-incontinence. You could deal with an overly persistent, one-eyed Mark. Seb knew it wasn't fine, felt the salt burn of a bruised ego that you were protecting him. He let it slide because he thought you needed a win.

        "So why's this on you anyways. It's sooooooo cute on you but like, doesn't he want to expand the empire? Your powers could literally help. What is he, stupid?" He let the collar go, snap back into place around your neck before he idly felt along the metal heart on its outside. 

        Lucan didn't say anything despite him insulting the Emperor.

        "Some people don't get boners when I tell them to break their own legs."

        "Stop it!" Lensless playfully smacked your arm, not wanting you to stop. "You're embarrassing me! But ugh, I can not believe he doesn't like you using your powers. What a loser. Oh man, Marky's gonna be so mad when I tell him."        

        "Who?" You asked.

        "Shit. Don't tell him I called him Marky it makes him really mad." At your furrowed brow, he said, "You called him Scars."

        All at once, your guts were liquid. Mohawk was bad enough on his own. If Scars caught wind of the collar, it'd be over.

        "If you tell him I'll kill you." You spat. 

        Lensless can hear the fearful skip of your heart, can't keep the smile off his face at your reaction. "Look at you trying to threaten me right now. You're precious. What are you gonna do to stop me, use your powers?" 

        "I'll tell the Emperor you did some creepy shit to me." You said.

        "He's super mad at you right now, isn't he? I bet he'd be happy something bad happened to you. Plus, he'd check the cameras and whatever monitors are in that thing." He was right and it hurt.

        You had no other choice, grimacing as you said it. "Fine. What do you want in exchange for you not telling him?"

        "Dude-" Seb started, that was a bad fucking idea.

        Lensless didn't have to think. He said, "Hold my hand." He held out his palm facing up, "Just till we finish eating."

        You blinked at him. "Are you serious?"

        Lensless did a fake little pout, "Pleaaaassseeee?"

        You did it. Threaded your fingers between his, which wrapped warmly around yours. Oddly moisturized and soft. He occasionally squeezed your hand for assurance whenever you were quiet too long. You couldn't believe how easy it was, holding his hand, slotted perfectly into yours. Just like Mark's had.

        Lucan eyed your joined hands. Thinking it was pathetic, how weak he seemed to your forced affection. Surely the Emperor wasn't the same?

        Lensless continued chattering on and as promised, when mealtime was over (Lucan told him his time was up), he reluctantly let you go. You stacked the trays and watched as the center of the table descended, taking the dishes down to the kitchen.

        "By the way, next time you see me, I expect a kiss on the cheek when you say hello." Lensless said.

        "What? No. I already did what you asked." You hissed.

        "Sweetie, you were a gangster, you should know how extortion works." He clapped you affectionately on the back. "Oh and, I prommy I won't tell Marky, but if he sees that?" Lensless hissed through his teeth, "Yeaaaah, that's gonna go so bad."

        He left with Lucan, going down the hall with a happy wave and advised you to, "Wear a turtle neck or something!" 

        "God," Seb watched him go with a sneer, "I hate that guy."

        ***

        You ended up shadowing Seb for the next few hours. Following behind him like a ghost. Standing outside the room of whatever task he was set to do if the door decided to slam in your face. Mohawk had already set limits on where you could and couldn't go. Though the ship was massive, you felt the walls pressing in.

        You wanted to stay away from the room. From Mohawk. But time kept marching forward and your legs were getting tired. You found your way back to the room alone before one. He'd be pleased, much to your distaste but you weren't back early for him. 

        Mohawk found you in the closet, wearing her old clothes, asleep on the stool. You were still, peaceful, with the bodysuit you'd borrowed from him thrown on the floor. The clothes you were wearing were wrinkled and frumpy, dug from the depths of her wardrobe. He hadn't seen that hoodie and sweatpants combo in years, only worn on lazy days when you wouldn't leave the house back on Earth. You'd stolen it away, a little piece of Earth you wouldn't let him corrupt.

        He took you back to the bed. Preferring you'd wear the pajamas but knowing if he woke you up, you wouldn't be so pliant in his arms. He took solace in how you snuggled up to your pillow, contentedly humming. Again, seeing it as proof you wanted this deep down. 

        Mohawk knew you were hurt, emotionally, physically. But after the day of work all he wanted to do was hold you. So he did, after changing into his pajamas. He wasn't sorry, not at all. The collar was deeply sexual to him and he didn't intend to take it off. In the moment, he was soft and vulnerable. Hoping one day you'd come to understand why he had to collar you. Hoping one day you'd accept that you liked it.

        When you woke up, you were alone, but you could smell his cologne in the air. Found a black hair on his pillow. You left the room and a pattern was set. You found Seb if you could, wandered the ship if you couldn't. Avoided the others, only wore loose high necks. Felt time and boredom chipping away at you in this smooth empty ship, devoid of human touch. All hard edges and shiny walls. 

        You ate very little. You'd gone far longer in the desert, grown almost used to the hunger pangs. You slept twice a day by Viltrum standards. Every morning and night when you were in the room there was a tray waiting by the bed full of Earth foods Mohawk knew you'd like. You brought most of it to Seb, who'd complained about his eating time table. 

        You never slept in the bed if you could help it. Always falling asleep in the closet only to occasionally wake up on the bed. Mohawk was busy nearly all the time, quietly bent over his desk mulling over reports or on a video call with a distant alien ruler, cementing their loyalty to the empire. 

        Today was another day, except it wasn't. Your few hours of sleep were actually during the middle of Viltrum's day. Again, you fell asleep on the stool and Mohawk, again, brought you to the bed. You woke up, saw him at the desk and decided you didn't want to pretend to sleep. You ignored the tray of food and Mohawk sat at his desk and headed for the door.

        "Wait." It was the first thing he'd said to you in days. Whenever he was in the room, you pretended to be asleep. He knew you weren't but he still gave you space, as long as you didn't disrespect him. The collar had certainly worked in making you more respectful, but he couldn't quite count your silence as a victory.

        You went rigid at once. Suddenly angry and afraid, you shouldn't have gotten brave. Should've stayed in bed. 

        "We're gonna be stopping the ship in a few minutes." He said, not looking up from his papers. "Dunno how much you remember of that meeting, but we're almost where we need to be." You didn't respond. Not trusting yourself to not say something rude, you knew he'd shock you if you did. "I want you to stay in here while it's happening. My room is the safest place on the ship in case anything happens. Which I doubt will. The planets we're going to won't stand a chance." He turned to you then, offput by your silence. Only when he sees you does he realize, "I'm not gonna hurt you for talkin' you know?"

        "Are you sure?" It was a jab despite your best efforts. 

        He smiled, missing your voice even if it came with barbs. "I don't mind you being snarky, babe." He considered getting up, he wanted to touch you. This part of his plan was mostly for you, for her. You wouldn't fully understand, but he didn't want you to, not yet. "There's going to be ships from the Coalition there. I'm going to destroy them myself. Then the planets they asked for help? I'm going to kill every last worthless being on them, because they took you from me with their pathetic ideology. I won't let them do the same to you."

        You still had no idea what the Coalition was, why she had worked with them or what had even happened that led to him finding out. It felt like he wanted reassurance, to know if you were grateful or angry or something else. You were indifferent.

        "I don't care that you're killing people. I don't know why you're so fixated on me betraying you, I don't think it'd even work, there's no point." You bet she'd say something different, that she'd cry to hear his plans. The other you was brave for going against him, knew more about space politics than you ever would. She had the bandwidth to care, when all the care for other people's lives had been sucked out of you so young. You were nothing compared to her, a shell, a shadow, but here you were, Mohawk's pet all the same. Projecting that image of her onto you when you didn't even know where Viltrum was. 

        Mohawk was quiet for a moment, he made a mental note to see if there were any human safe depression medications on the planets that were set to be culled. "You've only been sleeping a few hours. You should get some more rest." Was his nice way of saying you weren't leaving the room till he deemed it safe. 

        You looked to the door, wondered if he'd shock you for disobeying. He definitely would. The thought makes all the fight leak out of you. You crawled back into bed, knowing he'd drag you back if you went to the bench. You didn't mind the comfort Martian silk brought.

        When he left to take his revenge, you were asleep. On your temple, he plants a kiss.

        ***

        The warship was stationed at the solar system's edge. Nowhere near as close as Kregg would've liked, but Mohawk wouldn't risk the ship being blasted- even if their artillery would only maybe scratch the ship's shell. He wouldn't have you fearing for your life.

        He, the council, and the Marks left the ship. System defenses set high if anything foreign got too close. The plan was one person per planet, hit hard, fast. Leave nobody alive, and when it was done, record a message featuring the heads of multiple planetary leaders. An official universe-wide announcement that the Empire was back and not to be trifled with. 

        Of course, the Coalition had ships monitoring the planets. The nosy assholes had numbers on their side. All a bunch of useless bleeding hearts from hundreds of planets with some sob story. Boohoo, the Empire killed my whole family! What a bunch of idiots. Being spared was a gift. A gift Mohawk and his men would take back.

        The Coalition ships stood no chance. All it took was a body shooting through their hulls like a bullet to make them implode. Then they scattered from planet to planet, wearing the stark Viltrum grays and whites that meant death to anyone who saw it. 

        It was carnage. The council worked through their planets methodically. Ensuring through hours they leveled every city and tore the heads off every man, woman, and child they saw.

        The Marks were messier. Gray was the closest to the council members. He ended lives quickly, leveled buildings by the square mile, going section by section, the way Conquest had taught him. Lensless who had worked with the empire and done this sort of thing many times, let people go on purpose just to hunt them down later. He rejoiced in being free from his babysitter like Scars also had for the mission. Killed lovers in front of lovers. He was the fastest but he made sure they all died slowly. 

         Phantom tried to kill fast but he was still unused to his new limbs. He heard purple-skinned people cry for mercy in a language he didn't understand and killed them anyways, unable to make himself care. He used the haze of strikes and arcs of blood as a meditation of sorts. He hadn't been in control in so long. It cleared his mind, gave him some time to plan his next move.

        Seb had killed so called rebels before, wasn't afraid of doing so, but on this scale he felt like a huge dick. He didn't have strict instructions like he usually did in his home dimension, he just had to kill all of them. But it was them or him so he did it, not happily, but as mercifully as he could.

        Mohawk and Scars had something in common. They both went hard on the aliens they found, left no room for mercy or running. Just a death that was long enough to feel some fear, then it was over. Letting out steam at their respective situations, thinking about you, always thinking about you.

        Markus being one of the physically largest of the Marks, was given the planet with the most advanced defenses, the planet most of the Coalition members were said to be staying on. Kregg wanted to test his mettle, see if he was strong as he looked. He was. The planet's population had dropped to zero in under four hours. It wasn't an easy job, he had to fight downright disgusting, and he definitely should've taken his time like the others, but he had to be the first one back to the ship.

        And he was. Flying so fast the layer of blood coating his body dried and burned off of him. He didn't bother to change, to lift the ozone stench of alien blood off his person. He went right to Mohawk's room where he knew you'd be. 

     The door slid open, DNA sensors thinking he was the Emperor, revealing you asleep in Mohawk's bed. The light from the hall slid across you in the dimmed room. You stirred, groaning and dreading talking to Mohawk. You knew any kind of violence riled him up, were dreading whatever he had planned. You sat up, rubbed your eyes to the sound of bootsteps coming closer. The door slid shut. It was Markus's silhouette you found outlined faintly in the light of a distant sun.

        He didn't wait for you to get out of bed to tell you what'd happened. Hundreds of thousands dead at his hands. The solar system would be completely dead in a few hours. You just blinked up at him, you knew you should cry for the loss of life. Should weep at the empire's cruelty but you just felt numb, glad it wasn't Mohawk. You didn't care who was dead or how, it felt a little hypocritical to start caring about murder now after all the times you'd done it. 

        You wondered how much the other you would hurt for these people. You could never be a good enough person to care. 

        All you could say was, "That fast?" Because sometimes it took you a long time to kill even one person if they were stupid and stubborn enough. A whole planet of people was gone like that.

        "I haven't had any free time to see you, so I made some." He replied, arms unfolding from the Viltrum solider standard behind his back, he'd adapted in only a few days.

        Your laugh was humorless. You could've gone to see him if you wanted to. You'd been getting a better sense of the ship's layout. A decent sense of Mohawk's schedule. If you asked a servant, they would've pulled the right strings, but you hadn't. In truth you hadn't wanted to see him for all his talk of playing along to stay safe then letting the collaring happen.

        He knew you were angry. Were receding into yourself.

        Especially when you said, "All I've got is free time." Just to rub it in his nose that you could've seen him but chose not to.

        Though he'd planned this meeting he was still nervous. Always thrown a little off-kilter by your mean streak, she had never talked to him like this. Would have already been draped over his shoulders after coming back from a mission, never asking what he had done, only how he was. 

        "I'm sure if you asked for a schedule they'd make one for you." He said stiffer than he wanted. He hadn't wanted the conversation to be about work, but he didn't want to play the rude implication of your statement. He sat on the corner of the bed to be more casual even though he didn't feel it. 

        You retreated from the bed as soon as he sat down, meandering over to the desk. Looking out the window at the line of planets that got more distant the closer they got to the sun. One of them had chunks floating off it, the planet's glowing core exposed and cooling rapidly in the ice of space. You wondered who was tearing that world apart. Why they'd go so far. It was Mohawk after finding out the head Coalition officer overseeing this solar system was from that planet. So he tore it apart more savagely than he had planned to. Just helping the guy out in the afterlife, sending his whole family and planet down to hell with him.

        "I don't want to do anything for the empire." You looked down to the organized stacks of paper. One pile was stamped with the empire's sigil, the other didn't, unread. All of it was too complicated for you to understand. "Plus It'd just be follow the Emperor around and give him head every five hours."

        "I see your concern." Markus couldn't find an argument he'd win, because you were right. Mark wasn't very subtle, had pushed you further than he meant to, "I hope you've been taking care of yourself. It's no easy task keeping Mark from crowding you."

        You turned, leaning your ass on the desk, partly sitting. "And how are you doing that?"

        "Gray and I have advised him to give you some space and have offered an ear when he walks to talk." Markus had meal times in the same block as the Emperor most of the time. Had nodded along to whatever he said. Offering advice where needed but never crossing the line.

        "He's not just busy, you know, being the Emperor?" He understood your skepticism, he hadn't been there for you. He should have come sooner, stood up to Mark more than he had.

        "He is, but he wants to keep you at his side at all times. But I know that's not who you need around you." Markus said.

        You weren't surprised. Again he was insisting he knew what was best. It annoyed you. "Oh? And who do I need?"

        "Somebody who wouldn't hurt you." 

        He said it so genuinely you had to break eye contact.

        "You won't hurt me?" Your voice was a mix between caution and disbelief. Markus only caught the glint of hope because he knew you so long.

        "Never." He planned to never hurt this version of you, had been painfully honest with you from the start. When she had found out who he really was he had no choice but to snap her neck. That would never happen with you, he wouldn't lose control like that, would be honest about what he was from the beginning. 

        When you glanced up you could see it in his eyes, he was thinking about her. You felt no pity for the corpses floating in space, but you felt a shred for her, someone who'd lost her life the way you'd lost your autonomy, "I don't know what you want from me, Markus. I'm not the same person. I can't give you what she gave you, I can't give any of you what the dead me gave you."

        Markus wanted to touch your cheek but he doesn't want you to get squirrely and move away. He stayed in place on the bed, hands folded on his knee. "The important things are still there, I love you the same." He let the words sink in a moment before adding, "I want to do what I can to make this place better for you." He means it fully and it helped you'd been married since you were eighteen. Even if you were different, he knew all the right things to say. 

        You felt a flutter of butterflies at the statement and sucked your lips in to any expression off your face. You tried to bite at him but it came out softer than you had wanted, "You care so much about me but you let another guy electrocute me." 

        "I didn't know about the collar (Y/n), he didn't tell any of us. I came as soon as I heard you yell, I was terrified for you."

        "You didn't do shit." You had told him to leave you alone, had insisted it. You don't think it would have helped if he had stayed, but you were still mad. Still felt powerless and lied to despite his insistence. 

        "I know." He took the attitude on the chin, "That's why I'm here now, to try and make up for it." 

        "How are you going to do that? Gonna take me on a fuckin' date? Gonna pick flowers from some dead alien's garden to give to me?" 

        He would if he could. Thought of the flower thing actually but thought it tactless. You didn't need a big gesture right now. You needed someone steady and loving. Someone who cared unlike Mark. Mark 'cared' but was clearly a selfish partner, couldn't admit when he was wrong. Not fit for you. You needed delicate handling while Mark was rough, always shoving the blame for his own actions onto you as he complained when Markus and Gray were shadowing him. As they so often did now.

        "I don't trust you. I don't trust anybody on this ship but Seb because he's the only one not licking Mark's ass." You said. It stung to call Mohawk, Mark. Stung because of the two other people you truly associated with the name, but everyone was calling him that now. Everytime you heard it from Seb or the muttering servants, you thought of someone else.

        "I don't care about him at all." Markus said, but it wasn't harsh. "I'm only doing this so one day I can protect you. He has to trust me to listen. I want you to be safe and happy, and I can't do that if he hates me." He wished you knew how much he meant it. Mark ran a good empire, a great one really, but he was obnoxious when he didn't have to be. Loud. Flashy. Markus still couldn't believe they were the same person, that he had to suck up like he had to his Father, just to protect you. It was humiliating, but it had to be done. 

        You couldn't believe it took you so long to realize, you had just woken up but the thought made a trill of fear squeeze your stomach. He came to the Emperor's bedroom. He was less than a few feet away, casually sitting on his bed. There were implications in the action, an underlying loyalty that wasn't to Mark or his Empire. You looked at him now and saw what he had been trying to tell you the whole time. When you fought back, you were only shut down harder than before, you weren't the only one who had to put their head down to survive. The good little Viltrumite soldier was a show, probably one he had put on for years before coming here, the real Markus was the one sitting in front of you. Uncaring of the rules when no one was around, only willing to play along to a point, and that point was you not trusting him. The trill of fear for him morphed into something yearning within you, this was seditious. An act of rebellion that would get you both in trouble. You could both get something out of this, a revenge of your own. 

        "The last time I needed you in the desert, you wimped out." You said slowly, still staring at him. You watched his brows furrow at the implication, watched the mole under his mouth move as he frowned slightly. Markus was left reeling, unbelieving you were actually coming onto him at a time like this. "You gonna pussy out this time if I ask you to prove it? Prove you don't care about him." You went on, doubled down. Markus remembered the desert sun, you practically begging for him, him leaving to let you cool down, only to come back to the sound of you fucking Seb.

        Markus crossed the room in a single fluid motion. Leaned back on the desk, he towered over you, his boots kissing your socked feet. "If you want proof that I love you, that I would always choose you, I can give that to you."

        But he stayed back, not quite touching you yet. He hadn't come with devious intentions. He'd come to be a friend, a chivalrous husband, not a full-blown rebel. Yet here he was, unable to resist your pull. 

        He knew he shouldn't. You were still vulnerable. Throat bruised from Mark's initial grab and collaring. You hadn't slept with him since then, he would've heard Mohawk bragging about it. You weren't endeared to him but Markus could easily get back in your good graces.

        His hesitation melted when you brought a hand tentatively to his chest, tracing down his body with light fingers. The way his body reacted to the barely there touch was a reminder he hadn't had you since the desert. And before that, in months, since before your death at his own hands. It'd been a long time. You were still unstable, hurt, but you were looking up at him like you needed this to be okay. He just wanted you to be okay, that's why he came for a second chance in the first place. He'd dreamed of your body beneath his night after night until he went near mad in his own dimension, in your shared home, shared bed. Here you were, offering yourself to him to fix it, to stabilize the both of you. 

        He couldn't resist. Closed the distance with a hand gently cupping your cheek. The kiss was closed-lipped, slow. He was all softness and caressing, careful touches to your waist where as you were unmoving, the hand on his curled in on itself. Like you were still unsure, trying to discern from his kiss if he was telling the truth. He wanted to prove it and started by hitching you up onto desk by the bottoms of your thighs. 

        That made you move, kicked something into the right gear because the hand on his chest moved up to his neck, touching the skin where his suit ended. Steadying yourself with the contact. It was a nothing gesture to you, but everything to him. Now that you were here, wanting, under him, it was hard to control himself. But he knew you needed to be properly unwrapped like the gift you were. He settled for darting his tongue along your lower lip. Waiting for entry that was granted after a moment's hesitation.

        In the desert, he'd tasted like stale spit and the jerky you hated so much. Here, he tasted like the peppermint mouthwashing tablets when his tongue lathed over yours. It wasn't long until your breath started to hitch and your body stared to grow warm. He knew just how to twist his tongue, knew how much you liked the press of his hand into your back so your bodies were flush. Your thighs splitting around his hips.

        You were caged into a Mark, but this time of your own free will. Your defenses melted alarmingly fast. You needed this and he knew it. His caress over your frumpy clothes broke you down, You had asked for this but it was still a shock when he touched you over the sweats. Pressed his fingers into the cloth, rubbing up and down your slowly heating entrance. You gasped and shuddered as he expected, remembering how he first had you in those caves so many months ago. Back then he ran out of time, was worried the others would find you both and punish you for something he had done. Now he knew he had time.

        Time to tease. Time to pull your hoodie up your body and let it fall to the ground. To again hold your breasts in his hands, massage your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You felt just like her but you shuddered more violently, unused to the touch in the way she was. You dug your heels into his back and tried to immediately start grinding on his rising dick like a rabbit.

        "Slow down." He said, pulling away from the kiss to see your face. He found your eyes glassy with need. 

        "Speed up." You retorted.

        Instead of replying, he bent down and captured a nipple between his lips. Looking up at you under raised brows as he sucked, tongue working over the sensitive skin. You moaned, tried to hold the eye contact but it was too embarrassing and it felt too good not to roll your eyes back. He hummed contently, going from one breast to another. Sucking, watching you, rubbing your twitching pussy through your sweats. 

        It wasn't enough, didn't fully convey his devotion. He hiked your hips up and pulled down your pants. Leaving you fully exposed, splayed open on the Emperor's desk. So ethereal in the distant space light. Glistening for him so soon after he started, just like he knew you would be. 

        "You're beautiful." He rasped, capturing you again in a kiss. Fingerpad going to your clit. Circling, pressing with the perfect amount of pressure to make your hips jump. You moaned openly into his mouth. Pressed your bare chest to him, wrapping your arms around his back trying to pull him ever closer. It was all he'd wanted for so long.

        One finger pleasuring your clit became two. You were bucking into his hand now, struggling to keep the kiss going with how well he was working you. But you did for the closeness, the human contact you'd been missing, surrounded by all these people, you'd never felt so alone. Markus took the opportunity to slide down to your entrance, easily pushing in two fingers. Listened to that song of, "oh fuck," that fell from your lips.

        He pumped into you unhurried, thumb rolling over your clit. You hips brought you down fast onto him, you were trying to chase a quick release. Markus allowed it this time, zeroed in on your g-spot until you came. Hard and squeezing. He didn't stop as the roll of muscles slowed, he kept you moaning, kept your head in the clouds. 

        He took your nipple into his mouth as he added a third finger, a tight fit but you groaned and quickly adjusted. Pumping with his whole arm, filling you thick then pulling out to the fingertips. Over and over. He switched between breasts, coming up for air to kiss you methodically where your kisses had gone sloppy already. He knew you were close when you tensed around him, so he sped up for only a moment, but it was just enough to make you squeal and cum. Again he sees the orgasm through, but doesn't stop the roll of his fingers. Your hips snapped into him desperately, but he didn't pick up the pace, had already conceded to your impatient nature.

        "Easy." He just smiled, kissing your forehead and lowering to his knees. 

        After months of waiting, he was finally eye level with the only thing he'd ever pray to. Markus kissed down a wellworn path, bouncing from thigh to thigh, took your supple skin between his lips and sucked. Enjoyed the hitched breaths he pulled out of you. Finally, he was close enough to your apex to smell the sweat, the want that made you so silken and pretty. He looked up, legs hooked over his shoulders, fingers idly filling your cunt. You looked down at him, hunched over, heaving, starting to shine with sweat. He couldn't help it as he said, "You're perfect."

       Down he went, going right for the kill that made your heels kick into his back. He drooled as he lapped at your clit, tasting that flavor he knew so well. It was a shame that the taste faded as more of his spit coated your cunt but the bane was evened out by the boon of you cumming on his face. He didn't slow, tongue far from tired as your hips rocked against his face. He moaned, caught your eye as his tongue went from flat to lethal sharp. Watched as your face went from wanting to cumming again.

        Your hand shot down, twisted into his salt-pepper hair and pulled. It didn't hurt, but it make his cock jump in the tightness of his suit made him moan again into you. A stream of swears fell past your lips, your body was hot and heaving, the pleasure coming in waves, each more intense than the last, leaving you breathless. You were starting to struggle to keep yourself upright, to not thrash and throw all the papers to the ground. You nearly fell back when his fingers left you all at once.

        Markus muttered to himself, "Need more." Before he dragged you forward by the back of your ass until you were practically sat on his collarbones. You didn't expect it, but his tongue shoved into your entrance was a welcome change. It was soft, didn't go very deep, but it wasn't about depth for Markus it was to taste more of you, to lap up your cum.

        One of his hands busied itself rubbing at your clit. The other pinched and rolled your nipple. You didn't think you'd cum but you did, squeezing around his tongue, giving him just want he wanted to the muffled praise, "Good, hahhh, so good for me," as his fingers replaced his tongue which again latched onto your clit. 

        You were trapped in hold, gasping, mind being wiped further with every subsequent orgasm. Eight, you think the count was. By then, you'd fallen back onto the desk. Arms thrashed when you weren't holding onto his head, knocking the papers to the floor. 

        Markus rose from between your legs, baptized from the nose down. You tasted yourself in his kiss as his fingers drilled into you. "Markus I- fuck!" You keened, back peeling sticky off the table as another orgasm was forced out of you.

        "Shhh, it's okay." He said against the incoherent babble pouring out of your slick lips. "I've got you."

        Your eyes, shiny with tears opened unfocused, "Markus- fuck me."

        He chuckled, dark eyes honeyed, "What do you think I've been doing?" You throbbed around his fingers, he’d slowed down to let you think a bit, but it was still too much. He knew it, didn't let up, continued to bully your cunt just waiting for you to beg.

        You pulled at his suit, "Take it off, please, I want you inside me.”

        He wasn't one to listen to begging when he steeled himself, but hearing you say please changed things. He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing. You were carried to the bed, laid down over the sheets, legs hanging over the sides. Looking down your body at him, you could see, "Fuck, you're so hard." 

        How could he not be when you were splayed and desperate for him? Gasping the longer he went without tearing his clothes off and plowing you into the mattress, "Please, Markus, please." He'd already been rock hard, but he felt himself throb every time you pleaded. 

        The suit was gone. Thrown into the same heap as your clothes. He threw himself over you, kissing you harder while the bottom of his bare cock slipped against your dripping folds. You whimpered under him, pulled at his back saying, "Come on, come on."

        "Be patient." He snipped against you, purposefully grinding his length over your clit. Taking great pleasure in your extended suffering without something to fill you up. "You can be patient, can't you?"

        "I can't." You made a good case, bucking against him, whining so sweet when you were never this pliant before. "Please."

        His cockhead barely pressed into you and your eyes rolled back with a gasp.

        "Look at me." He said, steadying your thrashing head with a hand. You leaned into the touch unconsciously, and it took you a moment to unscrew your gaze, to meet his. "Good," he pushed in an inch further, stopping when your eyes fluttered closed, "(Y/n)." There were those pretty eyes again. "I know it's hard but you have to look at me." 

        "W-" you shuddered as he slid in another inch, "Why?"

        "Because," he purred, "this is my favorite part."

        All at once, he was buried to the hilt. Holding you down as you thrashed. Cunt throbbing hard around his thick intrusion. He didn't wait, knew you were very ready for the onslaught. Hips clapping into yours, dragging his cock nearly all the way out then ramming it back in. It only took a handful of strokes for you to cum again. 

        Markus felt his cock twitch inside you but he pushed down the need to fill you. Months ago he wouldn't blink at the feeling, now that his dry spell was over he needed to bring his stamina back up to standard, cumming on only your ninth orgasm was unacceptable. 

        You were only spared the few seconds he needed to bring himself off the edge, then you were right back to being tortured. You tried to keep up, to thrust your hips back into him, but you'd already gone so limp from his earlier use. Markus ended up doing most of the work, not that he minded using you this way. Not that he knew you would either, in time you'd come to realize you liked being fucked like a toy. He'd let that realization simmer for another day.

        Number ten came with a scream. Your nails clawing at his back, your teeth on his shoulder. He kept his pace but was rutting inside you, barely pulling out when you felt so good around him. Eleven followed shortly after.

        It's after twelve you said, hardly coherent. "I can't- I can't anymore." You were fluttering around him, twitching, letting him guide you down onto his cock. Mind completely smashed.

        Markus wanted to be sweet so badly, to coo and slow down to reassure you, but it was hard not to be mean the way he knew you liked when you were this gone.

        "You can." He resolved to be soft but stern.

        "No." You shook your head, pussy clenching around him with thirteen just around the corner. "I c-can't. Please-"

        He didn't stop, didn't even slow down.

        "Don't you want me to cum?" He asked chidingly.

        The thought of him cumming inside you nearly made you sob. "Please- Please I want you to cum in me."

        Markus wasn't expecting that but grinned anyway. "Yeah?"

        "Please," you untangled your fist from the bed to hold his hips rocking into you, your nails digging in like you could make him stop or speed up, you didn't even know what you wanted anymore, "please, fuck, I need it."

         Again he almost does but he controls himself. Makes you go raw-throated with orgasms until all you were tight with them. Crying that you couldn't cum again but you always did. He always goaded you back to sanity by whispering, "Just one more," then after you came, he kept going. 

        You tried to protest, but your words meant nothing. You were back to begging every time you were close which, as time went on, is always seconds after the last orgasm. 

        When you're well past fifteen, he lets the mental blocks float away. Said to you, "One more for me? Just one?"

        You can't even nod but a whine comes from your throat that sounds like another, "C-caaan't."

        "Do it for me, baby." Markus bore down on you, finally letting himself circle the drain. Listening keenly for the telltale hitch of your breath as you were about to cum. You did with a final shudder. Markus lunged to kiss you as his cock throbbed, and he filled you with hot release. He was frozen there, hips stuttering as his orgasm left him almost dizzy. Going soft in the mix of your juices. He wanted to stay there forever, and for a long time he does.

        When he finally rolled you over to lay on his chest, sweaty and stupid with dopamine, his cock slipped out and your combined cum leaked onto his thighs as he rubbed your back telling you how good you'd been. You just breathed wetly into the crook of his neck.

        The first thing you said when you were coherent enough to speak was, "I don't think... I don't think I've ever came that many times."

        "Really?" He was surprised to hear it. You had dated him hadn't you? What was that other Mark doing? 

        "Yeah. That was like, a lot."

        "Mmm, it's about average. Maybe a little under if we take a break." He said. 

        "I can't tell if you're joking, my brain's not working."

        "I'm not." Markus ran his fingers down the curve of your back, smiling when you arched into him. Still sensitive and wanting even after he'd pushed you so far. "We'll get you there eventually."

        "You're trying to kill me." But at least he was an ally. Well and truly proved his love and loyalty. You can't think of anyone who'd be stupid enough to fuck the Emperor's girlfriend in his bed. 

        As much as he wanted to stay with you, Markus had to leave, not before cleaning up the room and showering with you, where he made you come undone again. Filled you once more and let it all seep down the drain.

         He left with a lingering goodbye kiss and a promise to make things better. You found it hard not to believe him. When the door shut, you finally picked something off of the food tray and ate.

        There was a long debriefing when everyone returned. Most of them were clean of blood from how fast they flew except for Lensless who went slow to stay gory. Markus was praised highly by Kregg for his efforts, a rare smile accompanying it. Mohawk clapped him on the shoulder, grinning with all his teeth when he promoted Markus and Gray both to official Emperor's guard. When they finished celebrating he thought he'd return to a wanting you who masturbated in his time away, at least according to the vitals monitoring you. Mohawk didn't like the observation staff watching him all the time so he hadn't had cameras installed in his room. None of them tipped him off to anything strange, so he didn't check the cameras to the hall for a Markus-shaped blur. Didn't think to sync the timetable of his entry and exit with your spiked vitals. 

[fivefootangel]

Jesus can always reject his father, but he'll never escape his mother's blood.

(read folded for explanation on certain things in the art)

aaah!! this art took a long time because i switched out a lot of things and cut out even more. so, here's the art that i took a loong time doing...... the theme was samantha's religious background! i never see anybody discuss it despite her going to a christian school and her parents being of the same denomination. the blood on her hand is stigmata, a case usually found in devout believers! it's meant to be jesus' crucifixion wounds. saint francis was the first to experience it after an encounter with a seraph. it's more sarcastic if anything, since sam didn't seem all that into the idea of god and such. her clothing is white because it's the color of purity and innocence. obviously, this isn't me saying what happened wasn't samantha's fault, but i felt it represented her young age and naivety if anything. take that as you wish! and if you were wondering, the blurry thing in the back is meant to be her portrait. it's covered with crucifixes because of her idea that she would start a revolution... sort of like of sacrifice towards her beliefs. thanks for reading if you did. id be glad to hear what you think!

[beanarie]

⭐ I've been DYING to know exactly what Tommy was going through during the first half of "got my head checked by a jumbo jet". Any insight? *chinhands*

rc my dearest, you get an alternate pov snippet ❤️

~

Bobby isn't slick, but Tommy isn't exactly running on a full tank right now. It's been three incredibly shitty days and corresponding restless nights. He misses all the warning signs until he reaches the nurses station to report that Evan's awake, and Bobby asks them to get the neurologist.

"Wait, why?" he says, his stomach dropping. The nurse gives them a thumbs up and darts off.

"Tommy, he asked me about the girl he dated right after the lightning."

Tommy stares at him.

Bobby inclines his head. "Like he thought she was still in his life."

"So..."

"I don't think he's confused," Bobby says. "Which leaves-"

"Memory loss."

Bobby nods, and Tommy takes a second to reflect on how awful they all look right now.

"Right. Well." The man Tommy's in love with, who just took him back, got hit on the head and turned straight. "I shouldn't even be surprised," he says under his breath. In response to Bobby's questioning look, he merely shakes his head. Bobby is aware they live in a cartoon half the time, but Tommy doesn't need to say it out loud. It's not like it's his fault.

[marigoldendragon]

Still thinking about Kpop Demon Hunters (the hyperfixation is hyperfixating HARD guys)

And one of the reasons I love it so much is that the ending isn't a typical liars revealed plot. First of all it's not Rumi's fault, it's Celine's. Rumi was just a scared kid and Celine taught her all the wrong things.

But when they came back together it wasn't a 'oh I wrong I'm sorry lets reset the status quo' reunion. It was all about acceptance and moving forward. They all had things that they did wrong, faults and flaws. And they came together to say yeah that's us, and that's okay, because we're choosing to move forward, choosing to keep fighting the fight, choosing to do the right thing, choosing to love ourselves and each other flaws and all.

And I think that's also why I found Jinu's sacrifice to be so narratively satisfying. Because his character arc mirrored Rumi's, and when he saw her stand up and accept herself and choose to move forward he was inspired, yet again, to do that too. He said yeah I have a shitty past as a shitty person, but I can still choose to do better now. And he did. He saved not only Rumi, but everyone else too.

GAAAAAhhhhhh I just love this movie so much

[peachpopfizz]

so originally i was just doing a ref of the twins for the sake of my own memory. but then i realized "hey i can also make a blind felix au ref outta this"

i chose to dress the bfau boys as i did for specific reasons and i yap about it all under the cut so if you wanna see an autistic person lose their mind about character design uhhh open it ig

• Felix likes wearing thick, baggy clothing because it makes him feel more weighted and secure. also, he often runs into stuff during his first few months of blindness, and the thicker clothing helps reduce injury. it just kinda subconsciously became his preferred style of clothing after that. yes, he will wear a knitted sweater in 90° heat. no, he's not okay

• Felix's shoes are also noticeably thicker-soled than Ted's bc, again, he's scared he's gonna step on something on accident. his shoes are also velcro instead of lace so he doesn't struggle with putting them on by himself

• bc Felix Sr/Mr. Huxely is an Asshole who teaches his kids Assholish Values, Felix is very much ashamed of having to use a cane for a long, long time. he normally has Ted carry it around for him and only uses it when he absolutely has to. normally TED is his living cane so he doesn't need it much agdhagsgaha

• Felix replaces his bandages the start of every day, and every night before he goes to bed. ...or, Ted does it for him. a few nurses have tried before but Felix always complains about them 'not doing it right' or 'making it too tight' and even if they manage to get the bandages on, Felix would just rip them off and demand for Ted to do it afterwards (this is my way of subtly saying Felix only wants and trusts Ted to do his bandages and he's terrified of everyone else lol haha)

• He's still a little snobby asshole but he gets better every day, especially after meeting other disabled people. it's a slow process, but he's getting there. slowly. sooooo slowly.

• ong the whole time I was drawing bfau Ted the more details i added to him the louder that at one Markiplier audio played in my head. 'oh, it's adorable! ...oh, it has anxiety. oh, it's traumatized-'

• the only positive about this situation is that since Felix isn't on his ass about upholding a formal appearance for the family name anymore, Ted can dress more to his style, which is like. how any 5 year old would wanna dress ODGOSGAIG

• also, Ted not only primarily wears red bc it's like. His Color, it also hides bloodstains very well. and as I said in my first bfau post, blood comes out when Felix cries, Ted just.. doesn't mention that

• there's not much else to say about Ted's design other than that I slapped the top of that bad boy and saw how much guilt I could fit in em. spoiler: its a lot

• Ted doesn't get very good sleep a lot of the time, and when hes not with Felix, it's bc Felix Sr is dragging him to a business meeting so that he can 'learn the ropes'. Ted sleeps the best whenever Felix is in the same room as him, so thats why he has the eyebags. he doesn't get to, often

• as I said in my last post, Ted blames himself for what happened, even if it like. isn't at all his fault. he smiles a lot less and has lost a lot of his joyous whimsy. he still is the kinder and more positive twin, hes just. hes really Sad

• if someone makes fun of Felix for being blind Ted will beat them with the cane, fullstop. don't test him

• ...okay this isnt an au-specific thing its just how I draw the twins but every time I get to do it it makes me go 'teehee'. Felix's little hair part thing is shaped like an apple, and Ted's is a heart. teehee. I love details

okay that's it thank you for reading the rambles of an autistic maniac now shoo shoo sprays you with spray bottle

[doodler16]

I was being serious last time about how masochistic yall are about loona, Val and stolas! Stolas isn't perfect but we all know he hasbeen trying! Stolas has been there for vi from the start of the first episode we see them in. Thy bond in the first episode we see too and we can sense their love. We see them at loo loo land hanging out while vias still mad at Stella for being a pos. The real reason why she was upset was not because of stolas bur because of Stella and we see that play put in the second ep. We see her frustration towards her mother. But deep down hides it for the most part and pretends to be mad at stolas. In the series we see them struggle because of Stella who created a broken home for via and ruined stolass life. We know that via is hurting and she eventually snaps at stolas even though he was the only good thing to come out of her life. He was there when she was a chick. He was there in her teen years and as an egg, he was there as an older teen nearing adulthood around the corner. We know via loves stolas but it's Stella's fault for blinding her into mistakenly hating her father stolas. I liked when loona gave via advice. Loona was never abusive? Exactly when and where? and how? Huh? What? Where is that proof you crirics seem to have? She struggles sure but she doesn't mean it or its just jokes oure and simple. I dont know why sooo many people say that it was a terrible god awful message about stolas trying. Is that not the truth? Loona is the voice of reason and the one who knows about stolas and vias life. 8 dont think she got sidelined personally i think Viv is just cooking up an arc behind the scenes in the series. But anyway she knows stolas, Based on the fact she knows WHO? BLITZ !!! Youd know this if you went back and watched the show. She knows stolas and everything about him through her dad. She is good to her dad and i liked to see her written the way she was because we see her feel for via and stolas. You should know this??? Loona is the brian griffin of the show I don't give af what anyone says and blitzo is the stewie of the show. Honestly go ahead and prove me wrong on that particular part of family guy. Bet you dont have much of an argument. It makes sense in their dynamic to be written like the griffins and strongly bonded relationship arcs. I like that Vivziepop wrote these arcs because of the fact she wanted to tell a complicated and complex story and we all love that about her. She is a creative genius who took inspiration from south park, family guy and bojack horsemen and all of this powerful artist writing and talent went into the show with its beautiful directing. She is my idol and had been from the start. It broke my heart to see that moment and heartwrenching scene where she let go and went straight to her abusers Andre and Stella. And she walks away while stolas breaks down and cries for her in the most meaningful way possible. You'd know all this information if you juat gave Vivziepop a chance and watched both seasons all over again. But I guess thats too much for you and that laziness ain't going to get you anywhere on life. Honestly you should watch it again. Skip hazbin hotel until I get to Val but man is that a Lot of information you just either forgot or just probably missed out on. Valentino is a pimp and he's meant to be a lovable adorable kind of pimp that's funny asf. His voice direction is fantastic. He knows how to deliver lines like a true villain of the darkness. He's masculine but more feminine like a gay man of the night. While he does hit Valentino ita angel who went to Val. Or Val found him. I can't say for certain you'd just have to watch the show God Damnit! We see in the addict video that he is sinister and should be taken seriously as a threat in hell as an overlord. He's supposed to be ruthless in who he is. But he gets cut slack because he can be sympathetic or nice to people around him. I mean look at his relationship with the vees. He gets along with them just fine and is one of the main vessels to the vees entire existence.

Rage-bait Anon, is that you? 😫 You actually made a response. Jokes aside, I’m glad you said more stuff because this I can work with. I’m going to divide your arguments into character sections to make things easier.

Stolas:

- Octavia wasn’t mad at Stella, she was mad at Stolas. In “Loo loo Land” Stolas is the one consistently getting called out by Octavia for ruining their home life. They had an entire conversation about it near the end of the episode.

- “I dont know why sooo many people say that it was a terrible god awful message about Stolas trying.” Because he doesn’t actually put in the effort to be there for Octavia or change. He practically forgets her. In “Seeing Stars” Stolas was more busy with his side adventure with Blitzø and flirting with him. It’s also funny because Stolas could’ve called Octavia or used said tracker on his phone to look for Octavia.

- If he was actually trying to be a better father figure, Stolas would actually acknowledge that he is the problem and make sweeping changes to avoid the same problem from happening.

- “Loo Loo Land” and “Seeing Stars” are practically the same episodes regarding Stolas/Octavia’s conflict with a different code of paint. How many times will Stolas learn not to repeat his mistakes and actually be there for his daughter? How many chances do we the audience and Octavia have to give Stolas for him to learn anything.

- Octavia was right for cutting him off. Actions have consequences and Stolas needs to realize that. Along with making sweeping changes regarding his behavior in general. Stella and Andrealphus in their own ways suck as guardians because of how neglectful they are. And, I hope she ditches them both and moves out.

Loona

- Loona was abusive in “Seeing Stars.” In 2:35, Loona throws knifes and daggers at Blitzø. Blitzø is consistently running away from Loona as she is chasing him with inanimate objects like the water cooler and successfully threw it at his face (which obviously hurts him as he tears up).

- In 2:44, Loona tackles Blitzø, hitting him repeatedly with a painting. He successfully escapes and hides behind the couch where Millie and Moxxie are sitting, this is abuse. At the end of the episode, she kicks Blitzø in the balls for no reason even after she makes a speech about how much dads are trying their best.

- Imagine if Blitzø was doing this to his own daughter. Would you still think this is a joke? “Loona is the voice of reason and the one who knows about stolas and vias life.” Loona doesn’t know the full story about Stolas and Octavia’s life otherwise she would’ve said more. Loona doesn’t know that Stolas was in an arranged marriage, she doesn’t know that Stella is physically abusive towards Stolas, etc.

- All Loona knows is that Stolas and his grimoire was their only source to the human world in season 1. In season 2, Loona literally referred to Stolas as a “meal ticket.” 🤣 You would think if Loona knew more about Stolas she wouldn’t refer to him as a “meal ticket.”

- “I think Viv is cooking up an arc behind the scenes.” I hope so, we are going to be on season 3 and we haven’t gotten much Loona content. Once season 3 and 4 of Helluva Boss is done I’ll gladly rewatch the show and take notes.

Valentino:

- If Valentino was a normal, average goofy run of the mill villain where the audience is not supposed to take seriously then I would get it. But the problem is that Valentino is a rapist personified. Him being charming and charismatic is one thing but being goofy and quirky is very tone deaf on Vivziepop and the writers’ side.

- Just because Angel Dust allegedly went to him doesn’t give Valentino the right to physically abuse or rape him. At the moment we don’t know how Valentino and Angel Dust even met in the first place, we only know that Angel Dust is a slave to Valentino. Either way, when their origin story comes out we can argue about that another day.

- I do get the appeal with Valentino’s voice. Joel Perez is a talented actor and singer, he does the best work he can with the goofy lines given to him. Luckily, I’m not picky so I immediately got used to his voice. I personally prefer Paranoid DJ as Valentino but at the end of the day it’s a personal preference/opinion.

- “But he gets cut slack because he can be sympathetic or nice to people around him.” 😭 There is so much wrong with this sentence. A rapist should never be portrayed as sympathetic or misunderstood. Also Valentino 99% of the time isn’t nice. He throws a tantrum mostly everywhere he goes including to Vox in episode 2.

Vivziepop:

“She is a creative genius who took inspiration from south park, family guy and bojack horsemen and all of this powerful artist writing and talent went into the show with its beautiful directing. She is my idol and had been from the start.” Vivziepop is absolutely a creative person. Oh, she’s your idol. Neat!

Bonus:

I assume this is you? I could be mistaken, if not I apologize in advance. Otherwise, here’s my response do whatever you want with it Anon.

[lem0nt1ddy]

How does Mr. Ring A Ding/Lux handle jealousy?

Mr. Ring A Ding bleeds confidence—self-assured to a fault, almost radiant in the way he carries himself. He doesn’t question his worth, and he certainly doesn’t question yours. Reminder: you both have a close relationship and he trusts you to maintain faithfulness (along with his own).

If someone dares to throw flirtatious glances his way, he brushes it off without a second thought. It's not ego-boosting, it leads to a quick decline with no hesitation. If it's not from you, he doesn't care. The only person he sees as his is you.

Is someone hitting on you or showing interest in front of him? How he reacts is based on how you respond. Mr. Ring A Ding keeps his eyes on you-- your facial expressions, body language, your vocal cues.

Are you visibly uncomfortable and they can't take no for an answer? Are you leaning away? Struggling to escape the conversation? Looking for him? Yeah, no, he'll shut that shit down and will defend you straightaway with no apologies. Feelings are not what he's thinking about-- it's your safety. Because, in his eyes, you're not just his partner. You're his entire world.

"Listen, pal,” he says, low but thick with warning. "You're obviously not getting it. They're already taken, so go ahead and buzz off already."

But if they try to flirt with you and you flirt back?

He's offended honestly-- it's like he got slapped in the face. You? Flirting with someone else? Like, wow! Look at you, batting those pretty eyelashes at someone who isn't him.

Behind the smooth, charismatic Mr. Ring A Ding facade, there is something more volatile simmering-- Lux. He's red-hot and dangerously reactive. His pride takes a hit, but more than that, it burns. This isn't just jealousy anymore. It's an insult.

Forget playing nice. It's a sign to play dirty all he wants.

His tone may still be charming, sure—sweet like saccharine, even—but now it carries a noxious undertone.

“Oh? That little performance back there—was that for me, darling, or are we passing out affections like party favors now?”

His eyes practically glow with something wild.

“Cute. Real cute,” he’ll purr, but his voice has a sharp bite. “But I don’t share. So unless you’re looking to be vaporized by my mood, I’d suggest finding a new conversation partner.”

And when you’re alone again?

____________________________________________________

"What was that?"

His voice cracked through the silence like thunder.

"What was what--" You blinked, caught off guard before he interrupted you.

“I said,” he interrupted, stepping forward, "What. was. that?" The final word dripped like venom... he's not kidding this time.

Before you can say anything, he comes closer. There are flames burning from behind his eyes, smoke curling around them. You could practically see the heat shimmering in his pupils... and he's pissed.

"You knew exactly what you were doing." He spat, his lips curling into not a smile-- but something bitter. "Flashing that little smile. Laughing at their jokes. Touching their arm."

He took a step forward towards you, looming over your small frame-- every inch of his height casting a shadow that enveloped your own.

“Lux—” you tried, but it came out too soft.

"Do you think this is a game?!" He cut you off, voice rising into something unhinged.

"Oh, I'll make it a game alright," His smile spread now—slow, wild, dangerous. “In fact, I’ll give you a ten-second head start.”

Your heart dropped. "Lux, you can't be serious--"

"Don't make me laugh."

"You clearly don't know who you belong to." He leaned in so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the barely-restrained chaos lurking beneath his breath.

“Looks like I’ll have to remind you,” he whispered.

“Like I said… ten seconds." And if you know what's good for you... You'd better run.

____________________________________________________

Just to make it clear, he wouldn't actually injure or trap you. (unless he's a yandere, then he'd confine you where no one can see you ever again.)

He'd "teach you a lesson", though, through either fucking you senselessly, spanking you, making sure you only remember his name... or he'll give you the silent treatment and will feel incredibly hurt by what you did.

His trust isn't something to be toyed with. If it gets to the point where he suspects you of infidelity, or you actively do this behind his back, your relationship will crash and burn... and maybe you will too. As revenge, he'll toss you away or trap you in film and watch you go up in flames.

[historicallyspeaking]

The thing about the word "goy" is that, while the definition is "non-Jewish person" for most of its history the meaning has been, "the people who rule over us, oppress us, and might massacre us if they have a bad day." So I don't think it's entirely fair to say that it has no negative connotations whatsoever, but also the fact that it isn't entirely free of negative connotations isn't exactly the fault of the Jews.

ok genuinely why are goyim always so offended at being called goyim. im not talking about when its used in an insulting sentence, because in that case youre just upset about being insulted and thats normal. i mean when its used as a neutral descriptor for someone who isnt jewish. the only explanation ive ever seen is people making up definitions of the word to make it seem derogatory.

why is it so upsetting to that jews have a word for people who arent jewish in our own language? do you..want to be jewish? does being left out of things make you sad because you never grew out of the childhood phase where everything is about you? or are you just looking for something to be offended about?

[justnamedjosie]

i'm honestly so relieved to see so many people actively defending ragatha due to the latest episode.

after watching ep 5 i immediately had the feeling people were going to hop on the ragatha hate train, she's a well written female character who has normal human flaws just like the rest of the members of the circus, she slips up and says something insensitive to jax about whatever incident that caused jax to lose his friend (which by the end of the episode she owns up too and apologizes for by the way), yet people saw this and instead of being like "wow this character made a mistake and apologized for said mistake because nobody is perfect and everyone slips up and says something mean every now then, wow she's such a real and complex character!". we got "she's the devil incarnate".

like please get me to understand why you guys HATE this girl, these fans are literally repeating the same behavior that they showed towards pomni and gangle. it's a very uncomfortable pattern i'm seeing in this fandom of female characters being ripped to shreds for simply having flaws, like any well written character would have. and then seeing the male characters (mainly jax obviously, though i have seen the same behavior with caine a bit) be excused of literally any fault of their actions because of whatever reason they can pull out their asses at any given moment.

like no, jax shouldn't be justified or in any way excused for his behavior towards the other members just because he has issues. if that's the way these fans think then i'm honestly surprised they don't give ragatha the same treatment. like i'm not saying that any of the characters shouldn't be held accountable for their mistakes just because they have problems, hell no. i'm saying after learning that ragatha grew up with an absolutely awful mother, which would definitely explain her people pleasing behavior towards everyone, that those fans would be a lot more empathetic towards her, but i guess not.

i truly don't understand. like i love jax as much as the next person, but i can acknowledge that he's not a good person and his treatment of the others is wrong, no matter what he's internally dealing with. his issues that are slowly being revealed to us EXPLAINS his behavior, but absolutely doesn't excuse it. so it truly boggles my mind that ragatha can make these mistakes (which are so much smaller than what jax has done to others) and she's immediately deemed horrible and unforgivable. make it make sense.

at best it's simple favoritism over their favorite character that can do no wrong in their eyes (which in the process they completely mischaracterize them) and at worst it's blatant misogyny. i truly don't know what else could explain the influx of hate towards ragatha. it's okay if you don't like ragatha, not everyone will like the same character. it only gets frustrating (to me at least) when these people hate a character for something that isn't true in the slightest and that they completely made up.

the silver lining to come out of this is personally i've seen more ragatha defenders than these fans. i'm glad there are people who actually understand her character and can appreciate how well written she is! ragatha has made her way into being one of my favs on the show, and i can't wait to see where her character will go from here.

(also this isn't supposed to be a jax hate post or anything, like i said i love jax. i just really dislike how the fans have been treating him and by proxy ragatha as well.)

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

It's sad how TR!Ros has no sense of self and no confidence in her actions. Lately anytime she does something and Aimsey teases her about how maybe that was silly and irrational Ros almost always immediately backs down and often times apologizes and promises to change. Aimsey never tells Ros that they wanted her to change, just pointing out how what Ros did doesn't makes sense to them. All they wanted was an explanation but Ros immediately defaults to assuming she's in the wrong and is being scolded. It happened today when Aimsey asked Ros about her conversation with Water and Ros said they agreed to be civil after Ros had already killed Water. When Aimsey asked what drove Ros to kill Water, Ros explained that she wanted to stand up for herself and Aimsey but at the same time is immediately apologizing and saying that she knows she keeps doing the wrong thing and she's trying. Aimsey has told Ros repeatedly that they love her for who she is and that they want to know the parts of her that she keeps trying hide but Ros is still trying to mold herself into what she thinks Aimsey wants her to be.

Ros is a person who revolves around others. She places all her worth into what she can do for people so she shapes herself into being what she thinks they want or need. This has always been apparent from the start but she used to have more people to revolve around that balanced her out. She was the architect for the kingdom, she was Clown's apprentice and she was Aimsey's friend. Those were her three defining identities. Now the kingdom is gone and she is only Aimsey's friend. Her entire existence revolves around being Aimsey's friend. She has thrown out all of her wants and feelings because none of them matter to her. All that matters to Ros is what Aimsey thinks and wants. Aimsey suggests to Ros that they think she should make a new castle for Yellow so Ros does because it was Aimsey who said so. Ros completely misses the point that Aimsey suggested Ros do that for herself because Ros will do anything she assumes Aimsey wants. If Aimsey mentions wanting or needing anything, Ros drops everything to do it for them because she feels that is her only purpose. Ros doesn't seem to think she's allowed to do things just for herself anymore so when she kills Water for insulting her she convinces herself it was somehow for Aimsey too. Aimsey called Ros out on that and says they wish people would stop projecting their feelings onto them and acting out on their behalf. Aimsey does not like that Ros is doing any of this. They want Ros to be her own person and do things because she wants to.

Ros idolizes Aimsey as this paragon of good no matter how many times Aimsey states that they're not and that they are haunted by the blood on their hands. Ros does not trust her own thoughts or feelings and if any of them ever contradict with Aimsey's, she tends to assume that she is just bad and wrong. The only times she doesn't is when Aimsey tries to tell Ros that they have done bad things but Ros refuses to acknowledge that Aimsey is capable of any fault. In Ros's mind, Aimsey literally cannot do anything wrong and that actually everything is probably Ros's fault. Aimsey actively tries to discourage this thought process but has yet to get very far because Ros has this deep rooted belief that Aimsey is Pure Good and if they are not, then by comparison Ros must by way worse anyway.

Ros has convinced herself that she needs Aimsey and she cannot stand up for herself without them. Aimsey seems to have realized how bad this has gotten and seems to be trying to break that and show Ros that it isn't true. Last week Aimsey had to essentially trick Ros into speaking alone with Pangi about their problems with each other. Ros felt betrayed that Aimsey wasn't there to back her up and that she needs them to express herself but Aimsey told her that it simply isn't true and that Ros actually vocalizes her feelings better without them there. Ros has convinced herself that she is dependent on Aimsey and I think Aimsey is uncomfortable with that.

It's been such a gradual descent of Ros throwing away her entire sense of self to fulfill this role of Aimsey's friend because she is terrified of losing them and has no one else. No one wants this, least of all Aimsey. Any confidence Ros had in herself is gone. She doesn't trust herself to do anything good but she does trust Aimsey so she'll just be Aimsey's Friend and nothing else. She never does anything for herself. Every single thing she does is for Aimsey. That's not good, it's just sad.