#there is such a thing as over-use of a plot device

[project-sekai-facts]

Spoilers

Leoni’s wl chapters are all on sekai best right now and I wanted to inform what I understand about what they did with saki’s illness. From what I understand saki was weak and ill since she was young and during elementary leoni formed a band and at some point her illness got really bad and she had to stay in the hospital for a while. Saki was eventually released and became very worried about her health and was scared about it happening again so she wanted to get stronger. To do that Saki started working out more and during middle school joined the soft tennis club. She was able slowly over time build up strength and with the help of others looking out for her Saki got stronger and better. It is stated also that at times during middle school she did feel like she was going to faint.

I’m not sure how bad this handling is as I’m not a chronically ill person. I recognize it definitely isn’t the best route, which would’ve been leoni visiting her more often, or the worst route, which would’ve been be if they just erased Saki’s illness altogether.

i forgot saki chapter is out now so i can answer this. how they handled saki is incredibly questionable. because technically technically saki has nonspecific anime disease which means her illness works however the writers need it to. they don't say anything so they don't have to commit to anything or have any restrictions with how they write saki. so maybe tennis can cure her illness. it is true that exercise and healthy lifestyle improves immune system. however that begs the question, why did no one ever just tell saki's parents to make sure she got regular exercise and a healthy diet, in either universe.

as i said recently, based on what little we know about saki's illness, and inferring from the fact she had to be moved to a different part of the country to live in a specialist hospital, she had an immunodeficiency that was either genetic, or caused by other medical factors (eg: blood/organ transplant or chemotherapy). in these instances, you can't just magically get better by playing tennis. like obviously regular exercise would improve her physical health to a degree, but honestly with how ill she was that wasn't really possible, and it would be much less effective if saki's nonspecific anime disease is a genetic thing or caused by a different illness like cancer or an organ problem, which like pick one of the three because they make most sense for what her illness translates too.

we knew colopale kinda just used saki's illness as a plot device half the time considering the nonspecified part but yikes. it doesn't even make sense, like i said if she could just play tennis to get cured why did no doctor's tell her that in the main AU, where she ended up relapsing and returning to hospital. i feel like they just didn't know what to do with saki in a pre-main story canon divergence. it's not hard to think of something just have shiho and honami actually go to visit her and get rid of the miyajo bullies so they don't cut saki and ichika off. you don't have to get rid of her illness to make it work, it's set during second year anyway. i get she still gets fatigued easier than the average person but that's not really a good excuse. it's still incredibly poor treatment of a chronically ill character.

[yowlthinks]

DBDA Ep1 rewatch thoughts

So I have ended up rewarching DBDA episode 1 (not event till the end), and there were a few things that jumped out at me

1. The Great Puppy Debacle of '96 is mentioned in relation to Crystal ("a living girl [their] age") staying over and Edwin says smth like "Charles, you can't keep up" - but keep up with what? With the living? With how they change and the boys sort of don't? So what actually happened there?

2. The conversation between Edwin and Crystal in e1 when he breaks down and tells her how his death was labelled "an act of God" and how they covered up Charles's death - there is a lot of hurt and grief in there, and Crystal feels it. Edwin allows himself to break down in front of her, that is him letting her in.

3. Charles showing the mirror to Crystal - his secret, that is him letting her in. It is so well done, and I do not think he is doing that just to charm her, perhaps in a way this is the "stranger on a train" conversation where he can just share what he can't quite share with Edwin.

4. The scene with the cat doesn't let me go: Edwin could have literally got a piece of meat from Jenny's shop and bribed the cat!! I get that it is a plot device, but it is a point too: treat creatures with respect and compassion, offer smth in return for a favour and you will get better results (see Nico vs Tragic Mick and also the Cat King)

5. You can see Charles being used to quickly bringing Edwin up to speed on certain events in how he treats the soldier, so much care and warmth, also so precise in delivering the key message.

[tea-and-formaldehyde]

malpod oc stuff

ok so. remember Velvet and Dot? Well! I decided to shuffle them over to my original work (my book in the works aha) and give them some major roles in the plot >:)) WHICH MEANS. I got some new guys up my sleeve. I mean Ava is still here and she's got a much much more developed story now. And a better design! Anyways. Take a gander!

AVA (She/Her), the girl from the future. Main inspiration is Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice the Musical, design inspo from Lydia in the Beetlejuice cartoon. Ava is a snarky 16 year old that loves reading for hours on end and playing her violin. She came from the year 2330, living through an ongoing apocalypse. A desc of her world..,.

She doesnt really show much respect to her higher-ups. Only those that are important to her get her full respect. Though, some people who you could compare to the district leaders of her own world she would be internally very very afraid of and one lash-out would cause her to be plagued with flashbacks of her district leader (who you could consider to be her father, she was grown in the lab where her district resided, she was the only kid there that had some of his DNA, meaning she very much looks alike to him) Before her incident, Ava was a dreamer. She had an old, crushed up laptop she had tinkered with to make work and used the remaining weak internet that another district just across had to get access to a few things on the device. Downloaded music, art, podcasts, all stored on it. (Ava is canonically a TMA and MCR fan bc of this lol, theyre both considered vintage media in her time) She'd go out to the very edge of a gorge to be able to access it. When she had time. She'd traverse half submerged buildings to snatch bits and pieces that were intact, and that's where she got her love of reading and when she started learning violin. or. tried to. Ava had two best friends, Paisley (My shameless self insert that i made for funsies dont come for me) and Joseph. Joseph was extremely sick, with a disease formed by the mass amounts of radiation in the air that his weaker body couldn't handle. Both Paisley and Ava wanted to help Joseph and all the other people made to fight in the eternal dusk, so they delved into the arcane. here, the kids are about 11-12 years old. they managed to secure a way to travel back in time, and from there, they'd go to a time where things weren't going to shit, everything was somewhat okay, and the people would be able to help the three kids, and possibly even everyone. So, as a test, Ava, Paisley, and Joseph all participated in a ritual that thrust them back in time. Though- an error came through. Instead of earth in the the early 2030's, they were thrown to the Dreamlands, circa 1930. Paisley died in the process of the time travel, leaving only Ava and Joseph to survive. They experienced their first breath of truly fresh air in the Dreamlands. Ava did her best to keep her sick friend's hopes up. But he was getting worse and worse by the day. He only lasted 2 months before getting killed by a creature in a cave system. Ava blames herself for leaving everyone behind and making her friends die in such horrible ways by taking them with her. And yet, she traversed the Dreamlands for 10 months in total before managing to drag herself to the gates of Carcosa, where Carmichael found her and picked her up off the street. Her cape can turn into wings, just like Carmichael's. She has two guns that are her main weapons lovingly named Comedy and Tragedy. They're charged with an eldritch force that makes them work similarly to the revolver in ULTRAKILL. She can pick up voices and accents really well. ----- CARMICHAEL (He/Any), the King's messenger bird. Main inspiration is Beetlejuice from Beetlejuice the Musical and design inspo is Hermes and Moist Von Lipwig.

A little less of a whole essay of backstory because he's a little simpler than Ava. Carmichael is a variant of Nyarlathotep that had been able to escape Kayne, but was severely damaged and lost his power, which is what kept him immortal, as well as a lot of his memories. Was manipulated by TKiY in his most vulnerable state, and ended up becoming dependent on him for his own survival by TKIY giving Carmichael a small fraction of his power back (which he can take away from michael just as easily), and began working for TKiY as his primary messenger bird. Ava reminded him so much of someone, so he took her under his wing. (She reminds him of Lillith, and in his timeline he was a good father. He cannot remember Lillith) Carmichael plays the organ. In communities where members of the cult roam, he's certainly talked about. Some call him the Devil's Messenger, and think of him as an omen of great disaster and madness to fall upon anyone he approaches. Some say that you'll die on the spot upon him touching him. Much talk of many people who are in facilities that go on and on about a king and a dark messenger with wings that of a raven. He'll also go around targeting specific people, using the face of dead loved ones to corrupt them. If you're in Carcosa or someone with ties to the king, you can tune in to his radio show, A Little Birdie Told Me! Streaming every Sunday, 8:00 AM and 8:00 PM! He'll go over news in the cult, announcements, and sweet, sweet drama. He loves to be an entertainer. He eats tapeworms and puts formaldehyde in his tea every morning. please i need the will wood references in here He's a familiar yet unfamiliar face to everyone. Carmichael only really wears dresses or feminine clothing at formal meetups/events. He has no sense of gender stereotype, but prefers he/him. His alt uniform has a skirt:) His cape turns into his wings and tail as shown in the second image! --- PAISLEY/WEEVIL (She/He) My shameless self insert thats a mix of my therian identity (turkish angora) and my fictionkin identity (Jinx arcane) aha. a lil cringe but this is for MY funsies. Fuckyou if you judge. Can you tell im nervous abt this part. anyways

Paisley was one of Ava's friends. He was very reckless and rebellious, and often got in a LOT of trouble back in their district. Ava always managed to talk their leader out of shoving him in the grinder. Paisley was pretty much average in terms of skill, preferring melee or going fist to fist. Like Ava, she started out as a scavenger. She died during the ritual that her, Ava, and Joseph did to travel back in time, but her body and ghost made it across. Her body is still in the dreamlands where they first arrived. Paisley kind of just traversed the dreamlands aimlessly for a long while. He started to cave in from loneliness and boredom, not being able to talk to anyone or interact with anything. Eventually, Paisley came across Carmichael, who was able to see and talk to her. She followed him around before he gave her the chance to possess the body of his cat, Weevil, to be able to better interact with the world around her, to which she gladly agreed to. When Carmichael found Ava, she too could see and hear Paisley. Paisley can manipulate the body of the cat to feed. In order to keep living, she needs to feed on human flesh.

Weevil/Paisley (He now uses both names) now follows Ava wherever she goes and aids her in her ventures. More images:

can you tell ava is my pride and joy. can you tell that she is my everything.

[coline7373]

[kyouka-supremacy]

Again the sickness speaking but here's something that has been going through my mind since forever:

I feel like a good way to mitigate a lot of discontent with the doa arc ending and in general the whole Dazai-being-flawless issue bsd has going on is by comparing bsd to Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. Please bear with me for two minutes.

When Sherlock Holmes was being published, people were intrigued and enamoured by Holmes' brilliant and charming, crimes-solving figure. People read the stories for the pure joy of being left gaping at his superhuman wits again and again; they didn't want to see him fail, they wanted to be shocked and amazed by his genius. When Holmes died and then came back, nobody lamented it being unrealistic, because realism was not what people were reading the books for! They were reading to be impressed, to cheer for the hero and then take satisfaction in seeing him turn out victorious. That's the author-reader deal that was made there: to impress and to enjoy being impressed.

As of recently I feel like we've been asking from bsd something it never promised us in the first place. Maybe it's just not that kind of series! Maybe it's more about surprising the reader with how the hero is going to make it and less about highlighting his flaws and insecurities. And like, that's okay! That's why Dazai getting away with it isn't it him getting away with it “again”, it's just how bsd is; in a way, it's what makes bsd bsd.

I think it really clicked with me like it never did before when I watched the last episode of season 5; because the arc ending felt so shocking and unpredictable, very deus-ex-machina trope, a little underwhelming in its lowering the stakes that were there the whole time, and yet so extremely on brand with bsd, I didn't even have it in me to be disappointed. It was so similar to the Guild's arc ending and even more to the Cannibalism arc ending, and maybe it really is just a pattern, maybe it really is what bsd aspires to be, and that's okay too.

Also, I can't stretch this enough: if it's not your cup of tea, that's fine. I can't say it's mine either. But I feel like criticizing bsd now for how it's always been falls quite short, because it really feels like demanding from it what it never promised to deliver in the first place. That's just as far as my current perception of the series goes, though, so feel free to disagree with me on this.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

what draws you to literary analysis?

The thought that there is always more to know about everything and the desire to understand the beauty of media and how it works to point to messages that are incredibly important and put goodness back into the world.

[synonymroll648]

OMG DID TOU READ THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES HELLOOOOO I FUCKING LOBE RHAT BOOK

I DID AND I AM STILL SO FUCKING MAD ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO SEJANUS HE DESERVED BETTER HE DESERVED THE WORLD AND CORIOLANUS TURNED THE WORLD AGAINST HIM OUGH FUCK SNOW ALSO THE ENDING MAKES ME GO INSANE LIKE SNOW MY MAN WHY DID YOU GO DOWN THIS PATH YES I KNOW YOU WERE DESTINED TO BE AWFUL BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I LIKE IT HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU

[solsticelosthermind]

‘Tee hee im gonna go play in the porn universe,’ I said. ‘I miss the silly Mond trio being stupid and cute and fucking on every surface.’

Writes 2k of kaeya being sad

I’m not going to examine that lmao

[indigo--montoya]

doodles of my boi (gender neutral)

[adventuresofjasperboone]

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

I have a couple more mc ocs that r not fleshed out .... another sorcerer as a foil 2 Seren (her name is Reqium), a redstone mech pilot, and a small town farmer lady who is gay

[sunderwight]

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by a rare wife plot.

And it actually is a rare one because Airplane didn't even write this one down! He toyed with the idea before ultimately dismissing it as being too controversial for the tastes of his readers, and adapting only a few of the same elements for a subsequent chapter of PIDW.

But apparently the System can pull inspiration even from the author's thoughts, especially when there's nothing to contradict the concept and even a few threads of it still to be found in the original, and somehow Shen Qingqiu runs afoul of this previously-unwritten plot bunny.

The core concept was a cuck scenario, of all things. One of the Luo Binghe's wives gets afflicted by a poison that can only be cured by dual cultivation, but specifically can't be cured by by dual cultivation with anyone who has mastery over demonic qi. Something something conflicting energies, something bullshit something. Peerless Cucumber would have ripped the chapter to shreds if it had actually made it to publication, not just for the insult of implying that Luo Binghe should let one of his wives sleep with someone else, but also because why would Luo Binghe -- able to use both kinds of cultivation -- somehow not be able to keep his demonic energies from influencing the situation just in this one case?

Well it turns out that in his specific case it's because sex gets him too worked up to keep things strictly separate, and the degree of control required to treat the affliction whilst dual cultivating is extensive enough that even a little slip-up would be fatal.

Of course, in the actual chapter of PIDW, this same plot device was altered and used to create a harem orgy where Luo Binghe oversaw several of his wives "treating" one another's "afflictions", but Shen Qingqiu just had to go and get a fatal of dose of the more severe version (he didn't realize the risk, because again, this version didn't even make it into the novel).

Anyway, of course this ends up with Shen Qingqiu trying to figure out another way to cheat death, while Luo Binghe goes through the five stages of grief before accepting that he's just going to have to let someone else fuck his husband. This leads to an argument because of course Shen Qingqiu's not going to cheat on Luo Binghe, and he's especially not going to force one of his martial siblings to sleep with him, come on now, and Luo Binghe trying not to cry tears of blood while bringing himself to explain that a fair few of Shen Qingqiu's sect siblings would be happy volunteers for this task.

Shen Qingqiu's just like, well of course you think that, for some bizarre reason you think everyone wants to sleep with me. Bias is what it is. Really it's flattering Binghe but obviously every other person we know is straight, that's just statistics, and everyone in the entire cultivation world knows that Qi Qingqi would sooner chew glass than have sex with a man!

Luo Binghe, weeping now: Shizun please. This is serious. I need you speak words that make sense in the order you're saying them.

They argue, they reach an impasse, the clock is ticking. So Luo Binghe reluctantly turns to the most reliable source of information (outside of himself) on Manipulating Shen Qingqiu to Do Things That Are in His Own Best Interests -- Shang Qinghua.

At first Shang Qinghua is like, well I'm flattered Junshang but I don't think I could shoulder the baggage of fucking Cucumber-bro for you. But then Luo Binghe is like no I need someone who is way hotter and more capable than you, if Shizun is going to fuck someone else at my behest they're going to be TOP TIER so that when I fuck him better afterwards he's really impressed with me. Liu Qingge, obviously.

Not Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua asks? (He'd take the insult a little more personally but honestly he's just relieved that he's not being asked to navigate this social minefield.)

No, Luo Binghe says. He's not 100% sure he could beat Yue Qingyuan in a fight even to this day, which in his mind also translates to not being 100% sure he could do sex better than him either, so Yue Qingyuan is an emergency last resort. He's way more likely to cry on Shizun too and Shen Qingqiu is into that shit, it's too risky.

Alright, says Shang Qinghua, and he thinks about it, and then he comes up with the beautifully simple solution:

Luo Binghe has to fuck Liu Qingge first.

Because of course the crux of the issue is that even with permission, Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to cheat on Luo Binghe. But in the twisted annals of his mind, Luo Binghe himself is still entitled to a harem, even if Luo Binghe is also happily monogamous in this life. So if he shacks up with Liu Qingge first then Liu Qingge essentially joins Luo Binghe's harem, at which point if Shen Qingqiu sleeps with him it's not an affair, it's the gay version of those fanservice-y 3P scenes that the wives in PIDW did. Shang Qinghua translates the concept as best as he can to Luo Binghe, who -- though slightly dubious -- must accept that so far Shang Qinghua's wisdom hasn't steered him wrong with regards to his shizun's eccentricities.

Luo Binghe's mission: seduce Liu Qingge, or at least convince him to have sex, or possibly to lie and (convincingly!) tell Shen Qingqiu that they had sex. That last one is the longest shot so he's probably going to have to just fuck him (Luo Binghe still underestimates how willing his husband is to believe that just about anyone would have sex with him).

Shang Qinghua's mission: convince Shen Qingqiu that he owes his husband steamy threeway gay sex or something so that this plan he pulled out of his ass doesn't backfire and get him killed.

[vinnyvamppp]

Two and a Half Graysons

Note: Trust and believe I'm using that horny ass line you ended with as a plot device too. LMFAO. @hhoneylemon

Synopsis: You're not officially a parent, but you might as well be. You're not officially married, but everyone seems to think you are. Between shirtless mornings, grocery store tension, and baby carrier missions, the line between “dating Mark” and “co-raising a purple alien infant with Mark” gets blurrier by the day. But it’s fine. You’re emotionally stable. Probably.

Warnings: Mild Sexual Tension (NO SMUT), Coping With Parenthood, Mild Swearing, Off-screen Canon-level Violence, Found Family & Co-parenting, fluff galour. (Original Request Link: https://www.tumblr.com/vinnyvamppp/783842276548952064/i-have-a-vision-ive-been-thinking-about-when) PART 2 HERE

Mark Grayson (+ Baby Oliver!) x GN!Reader

WC: 1.2k (so cute)

Mark doesn’t ask you to move in. He just starts making space, a shelf here, a drawer cleared there. By the time Oliver starts teething, you’re already brushing your teeth in his bathroom every morning and waking up with a foot in your ribs that definitely doesn’t belong to Mark.

You weren’t expecting him to drop out. No one was. Debbie had offered to help, of course—offered like it was the easiest thing in the world to raise a baby that wasn’t hers, born from a man who had already broken the whole family once. And Mark had just said: “I can’t ask her to do this. He’s my responsibility, my… brother.”

Then he’d looked at you. Like he was bracing for something. For the inevitable pulling away. The “I’m not ready for this” talk. But you’d just nodded. Said: “Okay. We’ll figure it out.” We. His shoulder slumped with a sigh of relief. And that’s how it starts.

It’s not glamorous. Mark’s working two jobs between diaper runs. You’re picking up shifts, catching Oliver when he won’t stop crying, and Mark looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Some nights, the exhaustion settles over the house like fog, thick and still. Then there’s moments where Oliver laughs or falls asleep on your chest like he knows exactly where he belongs. And everything feels lighter—softer, just right.

Mark negotiated with Cecil… Kind of—out of desperation, moreover. After bringing Oliver back, Mark tried to keep up with college, parenting, and being Earth's part-time savior. It lasted about two weeks. He was late to a Kaiju fight because Oliver had a fever. Left a lab evacuation halfway through to pick him up from your job because the sitter bailed. Cecil nearly had a stroke when Mark fought a teleporting assassin with baby wipes in his pocket.

“I can’t do this full-time. He’s a baby. He’s my responsibility. I’m not leaving him with my mom again and I’m not dragging him into a war zone unless the world’s literally ending.”

Cecil—being a professional manipulator and also somehow slightly terrified of Oliver’s explosive bowel habits, reluctantly agreed. Now, Mark handles non-lethal, low-stakes missions like alien negotiations and minor emergencies.

He takes himself off the active-duty roster unless it’s a Level Red situation, and Cecil sends backup or Eve when something big hits. Mark still trains—still reports in, but often while bouncing a baby on his chest or feeding him yogurt off-camera. So what happens day to day? He flashes by your job to drop off Oliver. Literally, he’ll appear mid-conversation, hair a mess, onesie on backward.

“Hey babe, sorry—can you watch him for like two hours? There's a tidal wave hitting France. Be back by lunch. Probably.” Kisses you mid-chaos, and vanishes in a loud boom. Sometimes he leaves you with a half-full bottle and a sticky pacifier and expects you to just vibe.

If that isn't an option, he wears a baby carrier during missions. Look, not for the big ones. But if the threat is “giant sewer rat” or “angry alien ambassador who doesn’t understand doors,” Oliver is strapped to his chest like a tiny judgmental but giggly backpack with earmuffs. You even designed him a superhero onesie that says, "Invinci-baby," and yes—he wears it at every outing.

“You’re bringing a baby?”

“He likes the wind.”

“He’s drooling on your comm.”

“He’s observing diplomacy.”

Cecil threatens to fire him weekly. Debbie sighs deeply every time she sees the footage on GDA security—just to check in when needing Cecil to make sense of this. All the while watching Doc Seismic scream “IS THAT A CHILD?!” mid-monologue. Today, you didn’t realize how dangerous this grocery trip is going to be until Mark lifts the baby carrier with one arm like it’s nothing. He’s Invincible—what did you expect? His gray t-shirt rides up just enough to make your soul flicker out of your body like a dying TV screen. Focus on the produce section. Innocent terrain, right? You grab a head of lettuce. You do not look at the way Mark bounces Oliver gently while scanning for cereal. You are a good person, a person with restraint. He’s doing that thing again—being effortlessly domestic. Like, hot dad energy turned up to eleven. Every time he reads a nutrition label or wipes drool off Oliver’s chin, your brain short-circuits a little more.

You used to flirt shamelessly. Make out in supply closets, pull him into his room by the collar. But now? Now you’re in aisle six, arguing about formula brands, and trying not to climb him in front of a shelf of canned peas.

“I think we should get the oatmeal-based one,” Mark says, turning towards you. And there it is: that low voice, as he leaned in slightly. The focus with that soft-eyed, fully attentive attitude. You blink at him, trying to play it cool as you bite your tongue. “Whatever keeps his poop neutral. I'm not reliving last week.” Mark gave a crooked grin, brow raised, his shoulder hitching, “The explosion?”

“Don’t—” you groan, covering Oliver’s ear. “Don’t traumatize him again. We had to hose down the high chair, Mark.” A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. He laughs under his breath and sets the formula in the cart. You watch the muscles in his forearm flex as he pushes it forward. You’re sweating now—It’s winter. “Why do you look tense?” he asks. You gesture around helplessly. “Because this is basically foreplay, and there’s a baby in the cart.”

Mark chokes on a laugh, reaching instinctively to cover Oliver’s ears. “You can’t say stuff like that while I’m holding our son.” You freeze. “Our son?” His eyes widen a little. The cart keeps rolling. The baby stares up at the ceiling fan, utterly indifferent to the life-changing moment. “…I mean,” Mark starts, fumbling now, “he’s not yours, but like—well, he kind of—”

“Mark.” You step in close, dropping your voice. “If you keep talking in that voice and calling him our son, I swear to God, I will embarrass us in this store.” Mark’s eyes flick to your mouth, then back to Oliver. His jaw flexes with blotches of pink creeping up his neck. “I hate that we can’t do anything about this.” You both stare at each other for a second too long. Then Oliver lets out a dramatic sneeze that breaks the tension like a rock through a window. You sigh. “We’re in hell.” Mark leans over and kisses your temple. “At least we’re in hell together.” You glance at the shopping list and mutter, “Add wine.” He stares at you in bewildered silence— “For Ms. Grayson.”

You find yourself thinking about stupid things. Like the taste of oatmeal lingering on your tongue. Like whether you’ll need a bigger place. Like whose last name Oliver will have. Like if Mark knows he hums when he’s rocking the baby to sleep, tuneless and low, and how your whole chest aches every time you hear it. You’d marry him. That thought hits you while Mark is on the floor of the living room, one sock on, hair a mess, cooing nonsense while Oliver grabs at his nose. You’d marry him tomorrow. Or bend him or let him bend you over the desk right now. Whichever happens first.

You’ve seen this man explode aliens. Why is him wearing low-slung sweatpants more threatening to your mental health than intergalactic war? But you don’t tell him that. You just hand him the bottle, brush your fingers against his, and whisper, “You’re doing okay.” Mark looks up at you—tired and worn down, but smiling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A/N: Literally kicking my feet as I write this, I will forever love your big, beautiful brain. Hopefully, this was decent, my friend. :)

Part 2: Our Son, Apparently

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛Blackout. Mohawk! Mark

summary.. you thought you had found some alone time with you, and your mighty little vibrator. but of course, all fun is always short-lived

tags.. canon-divergence (i have never written for mark or any of his variants nor have i read the comics, so, mohawk will be a little ooc and i apologize for that. also this ofc doesn’t really follow the plot of his dimension) / rough sex / overstimulation / he’s lowkey a dick / multiple orgasms / lowkey pain kink / reader is into everything ofc / light use of pet names / unrealistic descriptions of sex(?) /

authors notes.. i want to start writing for invincible and truthfully this is the first thing that came to mind. between mohawk mark and cap(?) mark, they will be written for the most cause imo they are the finest 😔. also please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes.

The mental checklist cycled through your brain quickly as your eyes peered about your room. Door locked? Check. Music playing from your tv a little too loud? Check. Your fully charged, pretty blue vibrator waiting patiently on your bed? The final and most important check of all. Between work, school, and juggling a relationship with your beloved boyfriend; finding time for self-pleasure was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Of course, most of your sexual needs were satisfied by your partner— however, there was nothing like taking the time to yourself, easing towards your orgasm in solitude.

You tugged the bottoms you wore down, thumbs hooking onto the elastic of your panties in the process. In one fluid motion you tossed them off your body and onto the ground, dropping to your bed back first with excitement brewing deep within your tummy. You reached down for the little vibe, examining the hollow opening that allowed the most perfect suction.

You remembered getting the device randomly one night, even paying extra for expedited shipping— a clear indication of your own desperation.

A finger flicked out to press against the button, holding it for a moment before the little toy revved to life. Little, yet so powerful; varying in several modes that tailored to your needs perfectly.

You always started slow, lowering the vibe to your breast and allowing the suction to flutter over your nipple— it slowly hardening from the attention. Your lips parted, along with your legs, allowing your free hand to lower to your folds, petting the soft skin slowly. A breath escaped as that familiar feeling danced across your body, warming you up inside at a gentle pace.

You spread yourself open, lowering a finger over your bud and slowly rolling it into tight circles. Your hips instinctively caught onto the rhythm, twitching at every special turn of your finger pad on your sensitive clit.

Soon enough you were growing impatient, knowing at any moment family could knock at your door for some random inconvenience. With that said, you lifted the toy from your breast, lowering it down between your legs. It always took a moment for you to align the hole with your clit, eyes squinting as if trying to visualize the perfect angle.

But the moment you got it, the moment you felt those delicious vibrations right against your sensitive bud, you let out the softest moan, legs opening more as the pleasure grew.

Your finger pressed into the button, amping the power up to its second level, strong vibrations thrumming right against your clit. Your legs began to squeeze shut, hurried breaths falling from your lips as you began to etch closer to your orgasm.

You wanted to personally thank whoever thought of vibrators. As pathetic as that sounded..

Your head knocked back against your pillows, the tightening cord in your stomach nearly snapping when a familiar sound entered your ears.

“Babe, oh man— I gotta tell you what this gu—..”

In a flash you felt that pleasure melt from your body, your eyes peering open to spot your one and only Markus Grayson standing in your bedroom in all his glory. His glory being that godforsaken supersuit and the stupidest grin on his features.

Which only seemed to deepen the moment his eyes trailed down your body.

Curse you for forgetting to close and lock your window.

“What’s this?.. Having fun without me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, yelping as wind flew past you far too quickly. Mark was a blur for a moment before he stood still beside your bed, currently inspecting something in his hand.

You quickly realized that it was your vibrator, under his inspection.

“The fuck is this..”

“It’s—“ You moved to your knees, reaching out for it, only for him to hold his hand higher, cackling to himself. You gave an aggravated huff, hands dropping to your thighs.

“— a vibrator.. It’s a vibrator.” You murmured, trying to ignore the tinge of shame invading your form. Of course, the two of you have talked about masturbation, but toys were a different story. You’ve heard plenty of horror tales of men growing angry at their women for using them in the first place.

All that ego man stuff.. blah, blah, blah. And as much as you loved Mark, he was a man.. with a ridiculously big ego.

Your eyes slowly trailed up his body back to his face, watching the way an unrecognizable glint developed in his dark eyes. His gloved fingers tapped against the toy, fiddling with the settings, turning it off and on completely.

“A vibrator huh?..” Mark hummed, more to himself than you, gaze switching between the vibe and your features for a moment before a devious smirk pulled his lips.

Before you could think Mark was moving closer, using a hand to push you back onto the bed whilst the other went for your legs, tugging them open.

“Let me try.” The grin on his face deepened, reaching down with the toy towards your center. Clumsily, he forced the hole upon your swollen clit, eyes flicking back to your features as he amped up the vibrator.

Your hands clenched, lips parting once more to release a sharp moan. You weren’t alone anymore, released from the mercy of slowly building yourself up. No, Mark had selected one of the highest setting without a care, pressing it right against your already sensitive clit. Your legs threatened to close, hands falling to the bed and gripping your bedsheets tight.

“Ma—mark.. baby please— turn it down..” You whined out, gasping the moment you felt him twist the toy a little, the vibrations hitting your swollen bud at a different angle. Droplets of arousal trickled from your hole that fluttered around nothing, sliding down to your taint.

“Aww.. can someone not handle the little toy?” Mark mocked, twisting the little machine once again and giggling to himself at the high-pitched moans that escaped you. He rose himself high, face hovering close to your own whilst resting on a forearm.

“C’mon baby, you’ve had bigger! Don’t wimp out on me now.”

You couldn’t even dare to reply, far too focused on that band ready to snap in your stomach. Struggled gasps and moans continued to escape, as your legs tightened around his arm— as if trying to decide to push him away or keep him there.

Your decision was null the moment you came, hips rising into the air as you made a mess of his hand and your beloved toy. Your stomach ached, clit feeling raw from all the attention. Your body rested back onto your bed, attempting to calm yourself after your release.

Only to realize the vibrator was still stuck securely to your clit, not having moved an inch despite your orgasm.

You quickly back to fuss, reaching down at your partner’s wrist whilst a strangled, “Ma—mark, let me breathe..” escaped you.

But he didn’t budge, even pulling himself back to his haunches, keeping his one hand steady on the toy whilst the other went for your wrists, securing them into a tight single-handled hold right against your stomach.

“Oh, [Name], I’m not done. I wanna see what else this little thing can do.”

With two more presses, the vibrator was now thrumming at its highest setting, the sound of it on your sloppy cunt nearly echoing over your music— second to the whines and moans that you released.

Your mind was going blank, the pleasure teetering between bliss and pain in one fluid motion. Unlike the Viltrumite before you, you were only human— your stamina not being able to keep up at all. It was growing torturous the longer the toy played at your clit, yet you couldn’t escape. Even as you attempted to move your hands, Mark wasn’t budging an inch— nor was he fazed by the twitching of your legs, eyes so trained on your pussy he was currently tormenting.

It’s not as if Mark had an issue with you using the toy. Not at all, he found it quite amusing actually; you attempting to find pleasure in such a measly device— that couldn’t even began to compare to him at all. It was truly entertaining watching you struggle to keep yourself together, your moans and cries for mercy music to his ears after an already eventful day.

The man had things to share with you, like some idiot that tried to attack him from behind— however that could wait, until after he was satisfied with examining the limits of this little device.

“Such a fucking mess, you’re ruining my gloves, babe.” As cocky as ever, voice clear and loud so you could hear through the blur of your mind. You wanted to cuss at him, maybe tell him to fuck off and wipe that little smirk off his face. But you couldn’t— physically anyway, given any words were turning to jumbled mush that the man couldn’t make out.

Mark even had the nerve to tilt his head, pushing his ear a little closer towards you.

“Huh? What? You say something— I couldn’t hear it over all that moaning and whining of my name.”

If your hands were free you would smack him, but now you could only whine louder, trying your best at an annoyed pout, eyebrows clenched close together.

Mark quickly caught on, laughing to himself as he slowly moved the vibrator in circles on your clit, watching that anger dissolve from your face so quickly. Your eyes were glossy at this point, even rolling back to meet your skull as the pleasure thundered through your body.

And as quickly as it started, your second orgasm came even quicker; erupting from your body in shaky spasms. Your voice was etching on hoarse at this point, seeing white for a moment as you came undone so harshly it began to ache.

Your lover let out a boisterous sound, eyes trained on your messy cunt, your arousal trailing down to the bed, making a little pool of slick.

You panted heavily, struggling to keep your eyes open as they slowly lifted to Mark.

“Mark..” You were able to release, attempting to move your arms again, only to feel his hold tighten. You cried out, wiggling about in desperation.

“Ma—mark! Turn it off— fuck!” Tears of overstimulation were threatening to spill at this point, and in one swift motion you somehow were able to flip onto your stomach, scooting away from the man quickly.

Your face pressed against the bed for a moment, before turning to the side, releasing heavy breaths as your heart pounded against your chest. So focused on calming down, you couldn’t hear anything behind you at all.

Not the sound of Mark chuckling to himself.. his hands moving against his body, or even his clothes falling to your carpeted floor.

You hadn’t realized a thing until a familar hand was locking around your ankle, basically dragging you towards the edge of the bed and up onto your knees.

You rose to your hands, mouth open and ready to practically yell at him until you felt two things. His length prodding at your entrance, and that blasted toy finding your abused clit once again.

In one swift motion Mark was thrusting inside, leaving you unable to adjust with the vibrations buzzing against your swollen bud. Your hands nearly give out, nails digging into the fabric as tears began to stream down your chubby cheeks.

You could no longer form a single coherent sentence, voice switching between hurried gasps and a mush of his name, tangled with the loudest moans. Soon enough you felt his hips move, a bruising pace being set inside you, with little care for your overly sensitive pussy.

You felt Mark move, coming to rest his chest against your back whilst wrapping his arm around your body, leading his hand to gently grab your face— a completely contrast to how he has been ruining you for the past forty-five minutes.

“What a crybaby.. can’t even think straight can you, huh?” His lips pressed right up against your ear, hips flicking back and forth as he fucked you with no remorse. The corner of his mouth twitched, truly entertained by your reactions. The sweet wails you were releasing, the way your pussy clenched and clenched around his length, and how shaky your entire body was overall.

You sniffled and whined, hearing your love cooe as he slid his thumb over your skin. Once again, the only gentleness he’s shown you since he flew in.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? All this attention you’re getting, greedy little pussy..” Mark began to drill into you, now being the only thing keeping you sitting upright at this point. “Can barely handle me, yet you go out and buy this toy— isn’t that funny, baby? Hm?”

The man spoke to you so easily, fully expecting you to reply to the best of your ability. But you were only releasing whimpers, completely lost to the feeling that flipped between pain and pleasure.

Mark chuckled at this, pressing the toy just a bit harder against you.

“Guess you’re too fucked out to speak, huh?”

That was an understatement, truly. The word itself didn’t exactly describe how you felt. Your entire body was trembling, the two sensations of his dick and your toy eliminating any logical thinking inside your brain. You couldn’t care less about being too loud for your family or even neighbors, no, your entire focus collected into a single point, the orgasm that was rushing towards you extremely fast.

A mix of encouraging words and mockery was being purred right into your ear, followed by quick laughter with every cry you let out. Mark always enjoyed pushing your limits, especially in the bed room.

You were human, sure, but he didn’t care. He simply loved watching you struggle to keep up with anything he did, acting so cruelly only to praise you later on. A never ending cycle that he didn’t plan to change anytime soon.

“Clenching me like a fucking vice, you’re about to come aren’t you?” He questioned, fucking into you so deeply, his tip prodding against that spongy spot that caused stars to intrude your vision. The man listened to your whine, deciding to take it as approval to his previous question.

Mark grinned to himself, pulling back and allowing your body to land on the bed. Instead his free hand gripped your hip lifting you just enough to drill into that same spot perfectly.

“Go on then, come— soak the sheets while you’re at it.”

Your fingers dug into the bed, reduced to babbles as your sheets became soaked from your arousal, sweat, and tears. With blurry vision and muffled hearing you came undone, a prolonged bellow of his name escaping your aching throat. You jerked and jolted, making a mess of his cock and the bed beneath— just like he hoped.

The man’s hand smoothed across your ass, clearly soothing you as those sweet praises from his lips, continuing to chase his own orgasm. Moments passed before his hips stuttered, his load spilling into you, some trickling out from your stuffed hole.

You breathed heavily, feeling your body relax the moment the man pulled out and removed the still buzzing vibrator from your clit. You melted into the bed completely, caring less for the smell of sex and soaked blankets beneath you. Your legs trembled from the aftershocks, eyes closed as you attempted to catch your breath— and with that being your entire focus, you basically jumped out your skin the moment Mark’s hand fell to your thigh.

The man laughed, smoothing his fingers across your heated skin.

“Relax, I’ve finished my little test.. for now.”

“You’re..” You struggled to say, moving your head a little to glance back at your boyfriend. “— such a dick.”

The man grinned back at you, hands gliding up to your ass to grip whilst coming to hover over you, planting a kiss against your shoulder.

“I know. And I’m gonna be an even worse one the moment you catch your breath.”

[hypewinter]

Hear me out! Danny finds his human form slowly getting more eldrich as he gets older (and more powerful) and ends up going to Gotham where people are way less likely to ask questions!

Sadly when the people of Gotham see Danny, oops my shadow has eyes now, Fenton they just assume he's gonna be a new Rouge!

Que the bat fam watching Danny waiting for him to make his move, over-analyzing everything he does. Mans can't even buy a new laptop without Bruce breathing down his neck about it

This would be an issue if Danny wasn't such a little troll, and he starts buying more obviously ominous things only to openly use them in improperly boring and normal ways. Like buys a death lazer and can be seen using it to make toast, buys a cursed box full of death themed artifacts and uses it as a coffee table, that kinda stuff.

Every time the bat's assume 'this is it!' And gets ready to take him down, only to see Danny setting up a new 'coat rack' made of kriptonite

Even better when they see him tinkering on some kind of doomsday device, the kind that looks super evil and dangerous and even has a red count down timer on the front and- it's a fucking air frier again! He already has three! Why does he keep making air friers?! Obviously this must be some kind of scheme

I raise you: Danny starts selling his things out to random citizens (they've all been intensely screened). The bats panic thinking this is an attempt to cripple Gotham in one fell swoop. Nope. Ms. Randall just really needed a new air purifier and Danny had a toxin dispenser that was just collecting dust.

I imagine though that he might start to notice that the bats are focusing on him a little too much which is a problem considering there are things going down in Gotham that actually need their attention. But at the same time, our resident ghost boy isn't ready to stop being a menace just yet. So what does he do? Kill too birds with one stone.

Whenever Danny catches wind of a new plot going down, he does something to draw the bats's attention to it. Two Face planning a robbery? Suddenly Danny is showing up to the bank everyday to work on the vault (he offered to reinforce it for free). The bats get so suspicious they focus hard on the bank and discover Two Face's plot before he can do anything.

The bats pat themselves on the back while Danny giggles in the background. Wonder how long it will take for them to figure out what's going on.

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)