morownic

[morownic]

this isn’t love, this is a car crash

this isn’t love, this is bloodbath; this isn’t love, this is a sentence— it’s a bullet in the head.

RATED M ON AO3 (so far), gender neutral, mutual pining, slow burn, hurt/tiny comfort lmao, emotional constipation 🔛🔝 [+ more will be added as the series goes]

preface: everyone say thank you bring me the horizon. this is just a culmination of my longtime interests atp.

read on ao3 • writing tag • commissions

maybe i should drop dead, eat shit, go to hell

don’t tell me you’re happy, ‘cause this isn’t love

there is a home (beyond our bones)

[morownic]

ihave given up on tagging my reblogs.

[morownic]

maybe i should drop dead, eat shit, go to hell

got out on good behavior; i’m sorry, kid, but i can’t be your savior. (i don’t know what you expected.)

RATED M ON AO3, gender neutral, emotional constipation (thats it thats the tweet) • next chapter • series masterlist • read on ao3

a/n: this is a repost (if you know, you know). the readers gender isnt specified but this was written with afab transmasc enby in mind hence the whole thing w momoi (squint! theres good luck babe there). reader is also kagamis cousin. STREAM BMTH.

 “You smell like shit.”

That earned him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Thanks. Your English homework, Lord Aomine.”

Aomine didn’t comment on the redness of your knuckles or how the back of your hand felt slightly rougher to the touch when you handed him your notebook.

“Stop doing that,” he said, but who knew if it was meant as a jab at your sarcasm or the obvious remnant of a fight on your hands.

You took it as the former.

“I’m but your humble servant—” You laughed when you saw his expression. At least it was genuine. “Seriously, how are you and Taiga even going to play for the NBA if you can’t even speak English?”

“I can speak English.” His frown stayed and your laughter returned. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

There was a moment of silence as he pretended to read your English homework and you pretended to find something interesting in the sky. It was lunch break; more than half of the class had vacated the room, and the ones that remained knew better than to disturb the two of you. Most of the time. They were more afraid of you than him. You understood.

“You should stop smoking.”

“I forgot to wear perfume.”

“That’s not what I—”

You shot him a look, and he knew better than to argue. He always did. 

“Thank you,” you drawled mockingly in English, still with the same sardonic smile he’d gotten used to and grown to resent.

Aomine didn’t address the callousness of your hands or the way your eye twitched every now and then. He didn’t ask why you kept touching one of your cheeks with the back of your hand as if he couldn’t see the purple blooming on your cheekbone. He didn’t ask about the dried blood on your lips, the poorly concealed bruises on your arms, and the way you shifted your weight in your seat like you were perpetually uncomfortable.

In turn, you didn’t address the tenderness of his gaze or the way his knees rested against yours so comfortably. You didn’t ask why he was looking at you like he wanted to say something that both of you knew would make you turn around and never look back. You didn’t ask about the firm set of his jaw, the sigh he let out upon looking away from you, and the way his brows furrowed in thought as he “read” your homework.

“You’re annoying.” His scowl was back.

You nodded, smiling. “I know. It’s one of my charms.”

“Who did you fight?”

His question, admittedly, gave you pause. “Does it matter?”

Aomine scoffed, then resumed pretend-reading. “Did you win?” Did you get hurt?

You feigned offense and gave him a scoff of your own. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Yeah, just don’t go to practice today.” He sounded like he was mocking you, but if Momoi was sitting next to you, she’d tell you it was just his way of showing concern.

You knew. You understood.

“No, I won’t.”

Aomine was surprised. Genuinely surprised. He stopped flipping the pages of your notebook—like he actually cared in the first place—and looked you in the eye. Your smile didn’t falter, didn’t grow warmer or colder.

“I quit.”

“What?”

Aomine had never pried. Never been the kind of person who’d even want to pry. He had never pondered too long about you and your affinity for him even though he was a grade-A asshole at some point. You had always been there, after all, seen him at his best and his worst and for all of his worth—when he was a happy-go-lucky twerp, when he spiraled and had one of the worst edgelord phases known to man, and when he came back to his senses and decided that he’d rather be a grade-B asshole or something.

That was the you he’d always known. Whenever he told you to fuck off, you’d fight him until he relented, wrestle him if you had to—literally, and for the record, you almost choked him to death. Each loss you took, you took it in stride, both on and off the court. You stood tall even though he had both inadvertently and blatantly insulted you, broke your heart and made you pick up the pieces yourself, chewed you and spat you out like you were a stale piece of gum.

He thought you were either too stubborn or just downright inherently stupid for trying your best to understand him.

This shattered everything he knew about you.

“I quit,” you said as if you hadn’t just completely twisted his perception of you, “you’ve got Taiga now.”

The gears in his head began to turn.

“You—” Aomine bristled. “Seriously? Seriously?”

But you were laughing as if he couldn’t hear the hollowness in your voice and couldn’t see the lack of shine in your eyes. He was shocked, horrified even, and you were laughing.

“Hey, I’ve got other things I want to do, y’know?”

“That’s—” He inhaled sharply, closing your notebook and looking away for a moment, gritting his teeth. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Daiki.”

“No.”

For a split second, you almost relented. He could see it. You knew he could see it. He knew you knew. But your smile didn’t falter, and you leaned back in your seat like it was just another Tuesday and the two of you weren’t having a conversation that was making him question the basis of your friendship.

“You’re telling me I should keep playing?” you tried again, still keeping your tone light, even though your chuckle already sounded humorless. “Shouldn’t you consider what I want in this situation?”

“Why?”

Alas, you were only human. And it was weird, hearing him speak in such an uneven voice. You decide you didn’t like it.

Still, you smiled.

“You don’t need me anymore.”

To you, it was a level of care that transcended your own understanding. You’d call it love, even, but it was your first love. There were no previous heartbreaks to compare it to. Maybe you would grow up and look back and think that, in the end, it was just some kind of misplaced devotion. Some kind of twisted way to get him to look at you, to recognize your obsession as effort, to make him see that you’d still choose him no matter what—so surely, he’d do the same for you, too, wouldn’t he?

Truth be told, even if he wouldn’t, you’d still be there whenever he looked back as long as he wanted you around, if only to see him smile. If only to see the boy you saw in seventh grade once again, no matter if he’d just welcomed you into his world even though you didn’t know jack shit about the very thing he lived and breathed or if he’d just discarded you like you were a used piece of condom only for him to miss the trash can completely and leave you to rot.

To him?

It was something akin to obligation.

Or worse, pity.

“Except for homework, I guess,” you jested in an attempt to prevent him from going down that rabbit hole you knew all too well, but you also knew it was too late when he looked at you like he didn’t know you. “Hey, it’s not like I could ever beat you or something. I don’t even know why you’re so mad about this.”

Wrong fucking answer.

Aomine stood up abruptly and the chair he’d just gotten up from scraped the floor like nails on a chalkboard before it fell like unstable scaffolding. If the other students in the classroom were purposely ignoring the two of you out of courtesy, they simply couldn’t look away then. Not when he was looming over you like he was about to punch you and you were looking at him like you were ready to retaliate at any given moment. 

You held up your notebook, every trace of false mirth absent from your features. Aomine hated it even more because it reminded him that you’d only been nothing but a good actor. Not a good player, but you could always play at being one. Not a good friend, but you could always pretend to be one. Not a good person, and you thought you could never be one.

He was already walking away when you told him, “You can still take this.”

“I’ll just ask Momoi,” he didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder, “or do it myself.”

The door slammed shut and the clouds hid the sky. You didn’t smile. You understood.

Momoi came to your class two days later during lunch break. One of your classmates woke you up from your poor excuse of a nap and you shot her a smile as you rubbed your eyes, yawning. She had this disapproving pout on her lips, one that she always had on her face whenever she was about to chastise you or Aomine, but she gave you the lunchbox her mother had packed for you anyway.

The girl put her hands on her hips; she didn’t bother to sit down—at first. You tried to charm her with a smile if only to discourage her from giving you an earful. It seemed to work. Her cheeks puffed up a little and she finally dragged an empty chair to your desk.

“Did you two fight again?”

“Huh?” You acted dumb, glancing down at your raw knuckles as you opened the lunchbox. “This wasn’t him.”

“Not that.” She shot you a look as she sat down. “Dai-chan said he didn’t want to see you.”

A snort escaped you as you took out the chopsticks. “Thank you for the meal. When does he ever?”

“What happened?” she whined.

You prolonged the silence between the two of you by taking the first bite and chewing it slowly, making an obnoxious noise of satisfaction in the back of your throat. The act was over as quickly as it started when you saw her crossing her arms and glaring at you.

“I told him I left the team,” you lied through your teeth. You were neither a good friend nor a good person.

Momoi, too, bristled. “Why?”

“Are you asking why I told him that, or are you asking why I left the team?”

The look on her face would’ve made you laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that you had food in your mouth and the moment you had was interrupted by someone who’d recognized and decided to greet her. She took her eyes off you to greet them back. When her gaze returned, so did her frown, though it was a bit softer.

She understood. You knew she understood.

Still.

“Both! Are you an idiot?”

It was your turn to pout. “I’d like to think that I’m not an idiot.”

“But you are.”

Momoi knew you weren’t above making a scene like you were still the same kid she’d met on the first day of junior high just to get out of some situations. She thought you and her other best friend were too alike, except you knew when to play your cards right and she’d fallen victim way too many times. She thought she shouldn’t have been too lenient on you and Aomine when what the two of you needed was someone to dunk both of your heads into a bucket of cold water and maybe keep your heads in there for a solid minute. Alas—

“Sacchan, if you’re only here to call me names, you might as well just do it right. Call me a bitch or something. Be creative!”

—case on point.

She didn’t ask why all you did was deflect, speak with your fists, act like you were above your own emotions, or all of the above. She didn’t ask how many faces you had, how she was even supposed to know you when all you did was change from one mask to another. She didn’t ask if you were still the same kid she’d met, if you’d still tell her that there was a world for her beyond you and Aomine—if you’d resorted to mirroring all of his reckonings and shortcomings just to spite both of them, to lay your heart bare the only way you know how, to let the fact that she chose him instead of you or even herself remain unforgotten.

It was the least she could do because you’d never asked why she didn’t try to pull Aomine out of the quicksand herself and instead hoped someone else would come to his rescue, yet acted as if his salvation was part of her responsibility and his condemnation was part of her punishment. You’d never asked what she even saw in him, why she clung onto someone who couldn’t even name his feelings and word his thoughts. You’d never asked her to choose between you and him, even when it was painfully obvious that you wanted any of them to choose you, and you’d never asked if she, too, ever wondered if there was a world beyond him because you’d have the same answer if asked the same question.

“Who’s going to look after him?”

In the end, Kuroko pulled him out. Who did you even have?

“I want to do other things,” you said after the silence stretched on for too long, keeping your tone light. “I have other hobbies, y’know.”

“You don’t like playing basketball?”

At least she had more tact to be somewhat more diplomatic, even if you did want to kiss that pout off her lips. Just to be an asshole.

“I do! I do.”

Your grin still didn’t quite reach your eyes. She was as used to it as Aomine, but she didn’t resent you. She couldn’t.

“I just want to move on. I’ll play again. Someday.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Momoi wanted to tell you it wasn’t unrequited. Maybe. Probably. The three of you had a dynamic that even she still didn’t understand. You liked him, he cared for her, and most days, she ended up wondering why she had to make a choice in the first place—if she actually had to make one at all. Worse, you knew. Why else would you be looking at her as if she, too, was looking at you like she didn’t know you?

“Hey.” The smile you gave her still didn’t reach your eyes, but it was soft. Genuine. The most she could draw out of you for the week. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she answered a little too quickly, her voice barely above a murmur. “We’re still friends… right?”

You tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and she misunderstood.

“I’ll always be your friend for as long as you’ll have me, Sacchan.”

The moment was over as quickly as it started. You went on to ask her about mundane things: how her morning classes were, what were her plans after school, if she’d heard any new gossip. The kind of small talk that made her feel almost sick. But your smile was warmer, your voice lighter, your touch gentler. She pushed everything to the back of her mind when you fed her a piece of sausage and thought the hurt and shame would all be worth it.

You knew. You understood. Even when she did end up choosing him again.

You got your answer quicker than you thought you would.

Correction: answers. Plural. There was the self-fulfilling prophecy in which Momoi chose who hurt her less. You and him hurt her in at least ten different ways, but Aomine wasn’t unpredictable; he was him, she’d known him longer than you’d known both of them, and he didn’t make her question everything she had ever known and understood. You, on the other hand, was the equivalent of the most beautiful rose she had ever held, with thorns that dug into her palms, sank into her bones, and vined around her heart. She still couldn’t understand why she felt the way she felt about you. You knew. She knew you knew.

And then there was another—a gut feeling that had long settled deep within you. The feeling that you were a stray piece of puzzle trying to fit itself somewhere it didn’t belong.

You realized that you ever belonged anywhere when your gaze fell on them. They were close enough to each other, but they weren’t holding hands and Momoi was smiling from ear to ear at Kuroko instead. You could tell her heart wasn’t all there. Neither was yours when your eyes locked with a pair of the deepest shade of blue you had ever seen. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and while you’d say you knew better, you thought there might be some truth to that within that split second. He slowed down to a stop but no one seemed to notice how petrified he was for a good five seconds.

Those five seconds felt like forever, but at least you understood that what bubbled in your chest wasn’t jealousy. You were sure if you were to put it into words, people would look at you funny and it would’ve been better to just write it off as such. But it wasn’t. It was worse.

First, there was no place for you at all. Not here or there, with or without them. Not now, not ever.

Second, you didn’t know what love was.

With only a few more seconds to spare before the rest of the group noticed you, you offered Aomine the smallest hint of a smile. Anyone who wasn’t privy to what was going on between you would’ve thought it was a gesture of greeting rather than a farewell. It sure did feel like the latter. Surely you meant it to be the latter. The way he was looking at you before you turned around told you that much.

You didn’t look back. Not even when his sickeningly familiar voice called out your surname from across the street, not even when you heard footsteps thundering behind you, and not even when you felt someone towering over you just a foot behind you.

Because you knew it wasn’t going to be the same pair of blue eyes looking back at you.

“You okay?”

Kagami might be emotionally stunted some days, but he wasn’t completely clueless about matters of the heart. He was a good listener. Most days. He tried. Regardless, it was hard not to know you when he had all but grown up with you. He knew when you were trying to run, and he knew how to stop you.

You snuck a glance over your shoulder. Aomine and Momoi, too, were looking your way, but the latter averted her gaze almost immediately when she saw you looking back. The former, however, held your gaze as if he was willing you to stay where you were until he could cross the street and trudge toward you. Kagami followed your line of sight and bid farewell from where he stood, one hand gently tugging your arm so that the two of you started walking away from the intersection before the pedestrian light turned green again.

You offered him a smile you knew he wouldn’t buy. “I’m fine.”

He understood. He did scoff and roll his eyes, but he understood. He held out a hand in a wordless offer to carry your bag and you graciously accepted it.

“Have you eaten?”

“I’ll eat at home.”

“Are you gonna talk about it, or do I have to ask?”

Your face fell in a blink of an eye and he didn’t even blink. “Not now.”

“Alright.” At least he knew when to stop. “Aunt Kaede’s not even gonna be home till later.”

Sometimes, you’d think that Kagami and Aomine were two sides of the same coin. Moments like this reminded you that he wasn’t Aomine. Kagami knew how and when to pry. Knew your tells more than you’d like to admit. Knew that he, you, and Aomine were much more alike than any of you would like to admit—so he at least knew you were all not too different from each other when there was too much in your head and too little in your heart. As oblivious he could be at times, he was scarily mindful of your patterns. You would talk to him in due time.

“Wanna go to Shibuya?” the two of you said at the same time, with him sounding a bit more careful than he usually was and you sounding more bored than he’d ever heard you.

You and Kagami’s eyes widened the moment it registered. For the first time that week, there was a genuine smile on your face. His shoulders shook with mirth as he slung an arm over your shoulders. You thought about how he'd unknowingly dragged Aomine and Himuro out of their personal hell and wondered if he’d do the same for you.

The way he held you close to his side told you that he’d choose to live in your hell in a heartbeat if he ever knew.

“You’re paying.”

“That’s extortion!”

[morownic]

don’t you wanna love me at all?

NSFW, MDNI, AU (college/university), gender neutral (lmk if i missed something), consensual nude photography • read on ao3 • writing tag

a/n: originally posted on may 2, 2022. i was being too critical of myself therefore this repost happened. also changed the pronouns so its now genderneutral-ish. not a lot of major changes, still seks hebat with badut psikopat. best read when youre listening to hannah by swmrs.

He looked so pretty.

Perhaps the lust and euphoria were speaking for you, but you had never seen a sight more beautiful than the one before you. It perplexed you, considering he was one of the most obnoxious sybarites on campus, particularly one that would fuck anyone who was conventionally attractive—the thought of having a brief moment of appreciation for the narcissist had never crossed your mind before. You wondered if it was a given since he himself was an artist; it only made sense for him to be as exquisite as his artwork. If so, you wondered if you were the critic responsible for his appraisal—

“Take a picture, darling. It’ll last longer.”

His sultry voice was the first thing that pulled you out of your trance. Then, it was his lecherous grin and the small whimper that escaped his lips when you shifted slightly. Then, it was the way his cock twitched inside you.

Upon discovering his silent dilemma, you offered him a grin of your own.

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” you purred, your hips beginning to move ever so slowly at a tortuous pace.

Frankly, you were content with having him tremble and whimper under your touch, but when he proposed to have a little “photoshoot” after discovering your major—of course he would be the one who came up with the idea—you couldn’t resist reaching for your Polaroid camera and taking a picture for yourself.

However, one picture turned into two, and two pictures turned into three—then you found yourself spending your last stock of films. You didn’t mind, though, especially when your view should be captured, framed, and displayed at the most exclusive art gallery.

“A-Ah,” he moaned wantonly, hands gripping the juncture of your waist and hips, “you’re gonna kill me, darling.”

You hummed, still slowly bouncing on him, taking advantage of his flustered state to take another picture. Click.

“What will you do if I do?”

The question seemed to fall on deaf ears; he clearly enjoyed himself a bit too much. His expression showed one of pure bliss—brows furrowed, eyes shut, lips parted. You might as well come from the sight alone. Still, you willed yourself to stop, effectively pulling him out of his headspace and making him open his eyes. You almost shuddered upon seeing how dilated his pupils were.

“This—” his grip tightened and he effortlessly lifted you before slamming you back onto his hips “—is a good way to go. The best, even.”

“Do you say that to everyone you fuck?”

He feigned thinking. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You should think it over,” you responded breathlessly. A smirk graced your face when you took out the freshly printed photograph from the top of the camera. “Wouldn’t want people to see this.”

He twitched again.

“Oh, you want people to see this.”

Your smirk widened as you flicked the photograph a few times. Your breath hitched once you took a good look at it. Even with only a flash as the source of lighting, you could clearly see how his pale complexion had a pretty rosy tint to it. His red hair was splayed on your pillow, framing his face in a way akin to a halo. His expression was contorted into one of pleasure, and it was downright sinful—you subconsciously clenched at the sight, drawing a whine out of him. You understood why he would want people to see this photograph. Other than the fact that he himself was a narcissist, the way his lips were parted and how his skin glistened in the photograph would have attracted a good number of bidders in an auction.

Alas, you wanted to keep this one for yourself.

“Well,” he began, pulling you out of your trance again while sitting up to face you properly. The movement made the tip of his length graze your sensitive spot, catching you off guard, giving him the chance to take the photograph from you.

He hummed in approval.

“I do think that I’m quite handsome, after all.”

“You think?”

He swiftly took away the camera and the photograph from you, putting them on the nightstand. In a blink of an eye, he pulled you into a kiss, letting your weight push him back onto the bed. Unlike him, the kiss was far from pretty; your teeth clashed with each other and your tongues fought relentlessly for dominance—at some point, you even tasted blood in your mouth. Even so, you took it all and got lost in him again, failing to notice the way he grabbed your waist and locked his legs around yours.

In one swift motion, he reversed your position without pulling out of you. Your surprised yelp was muffled by his lips, though he pulled away shortly after. A frown etched itself onto your face when you realized he’d just taken advantage of your dazed state to take control. However, you barely got a word out of your mouth as he began to thrust. Hard.

“I think—” he planted a kiss below your ear “—you got—” he nipped at your bruised neck “—sidetracked.”

When he stopped, the whine that left your lips was undignified. Even when you clenched around him, he didn’t resume. Instead, he reached for the Polaroid camera. At first, your face contorted in confusion, but realization quickly dawned on you when he located the viewfinder with a mischievous grin.

“My turn.”

[morownic]

here are a few things that could help if you’re looking to get into comics because it’s very confusing at first (and every moment after)

the dcu guide lists characters’ appearances in chronological order

comicvine lists every appearance of a character

comicstorian is a youtube channel that summarizes comic arcs/character origins in short, easy to understand videos

lornahs has a lot of good character reading lists, dc & marvel

comic book reading orders has reading orders for almost all events & characters, dc & marvel

r/DCcomics’ wiki has a large recommended reading page & a newbies section for people looking to start reading for the first time

comic book herald has a list of reading guides as well as a where to start with current dc & a beginner’s guide to comics

the dc database has a recommended reading section

comics back issues has a list of reading orders as well as their guide to comics for new readers

and if you’re looking to get into lanterns, be sure to give my own, comparatively puny rec page a look!

good luck!

[morownic]

person in fandom: eeeyikes!!! i hope im writing this character in this short little fanfic right >_< eeekkk what if my takes on my meta are all wrong and everyone will Kill me!!

guy in professional comic industry: okay lets mischaracterize every single character that appears in this comic for 50 or so issues

[morownic]

sometimes dick gets nightmares when bruce isn’t around. alfred’s sense of propriety vs dick’s big ol’ puppy dog eyes <- a battle for the ages.

[morownic]

Classic bonding with your older brother’s alien girlfriend

[morownic]

Jason's last tear.

[morownic]

here we fucking go.

Hawkeye (2012) #1 by Matt Fraction & David Aja

[morownic]

serving matt fraction’s hawkeye 2012 realness these days…. sleeping all the time… chilling with a dog… fumbling perfectly good relationships… wearing purple… disappointing those around me… being blond… etc…

[morownic]

Superbat commission

[morownic]

so like... i do commissions now... pspsps

[morownic]

things you DO NOT need to be a man

a dick

he/him pronouns

XY chromosomes

things you DO need to be a man

the swiftness of a coursing river

the force of a great typhoon

the strength of a raging fire

the mysteriousness of the dark side of the moon

^this post was brought to you by LGBT^

Let's

Get down to

Business

To defeat the huns

[morownic]

Love how they went "this is the family tree of this family, and that one in the corner is Smith, he's just happy to be here :)"

[morownic]

Cain' Instinct

part 13216789432

[morownic]

🦇 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗼𝗻 | A DETAILED GUIDE

regarding the project: whether or not you have read the comics, this is a straightforward tutorial for anyone wishing to write mark grayson more precisely. brief notes. genuine emotional breakdowns. no lecturing. no gatekeeping. just a straightforward, honest look at what really shapes him and how to use the source material to portray him accurately.

a/n: i posted the poll about making a how to write mark grayson guide today, but honestly... i’ve been working on this for a while, ever since i posted some fics. it started because a few people mentioned that some of my mark breakdowns helped them with their fics, and i thought it might be nice to have something more detailed all in one place. so even though the poll went up today, this guide’s been in the works for a bit hehe i really hope it helps anyone who wants to write mark more true to the comics! thanks for reading!

in the invincible comics, if there’s one thing about mark grayson, it’s that he’s stubborn as hell when it comes to his ideals. like, painfully stubborn. there are so many times where he just flat-out refuses to back down from what he believes is right, even when everyone around him is telling him he’s being naive or that it’s gonna blow up in his face. and since the show hasn’t gotten to a lot of these moments yet, let’s talk about some comic only examples that really show just how stubborn (and sometimes reckless) mark’s idealism can be.

okay, so first off: the whole fight between mark and cecil stedman (the government guy who runs the GDA)? it's turning point of mark's view of the GDA and what it truly means to be a hero. it also begins to shed him of his naivety.

basically, mark finds out cecil’s been doing all this shady stuff behind the scenes like building an army of zombie cyborg supersoldiers (the reanimen), working with literal evil clones, just... real villain behavior. cecil’s whole mindset is like, “yeah it’s awful, but it’s for the greater good.” and mark? hates it. the second he finds out, he’s ready to fight.

and cecil’s response? he doesn’t even try to explain himself anymore. he just sends a whole damn army of reanimen after mark to try and beat him into submission. it’s brutal. mark gets swarmed, blasted with this crazy sonic device they rigged up, he’s getting absolutely trashed, and he still refuses to back down. he barely escapes, pulls some of the guardians together, and marches right back to finish what he started.

they trash the reanimen, it’s a mess, and at the end, cecil’s standing there like, “i did what had to be done.” and mark, bleeding and furious, basically tells him to shove it. he straight-up quits. no backup, no government support, nothing just him deciding he’d rather be completely alone than be part of something he thinks is wrong. like... that’s mark grayson. stubborn to the end.

Universa Arc.

so, universa’s this alien warrior who shows up on earth basically trying to steal the planet’s energy to save her dying world. mark and eve fight her, they win, she gets thrown in prison. standard superhero stuff, right? most heroes would’ve been like “cool, problem solved” and moved on. but not mark. mark can’t let it go.

he actually goes out of his way to visit her in jail. just to talk. and when he finds out she was only doing all of this because her people were desperate not because she was evil or power-hungry or anything he immediately goes into “let’s fix this” mode. like, no hesitation.

and he doesn't just feel bad about it and leave, no, mark convinces the warden to let her go, helps her find a way to safely get the energy she needs without hurting anyone, and sends her back home to save her people. universa is so stunned she literally promises to repay him someday.

it’s honestly one of the purest things he ever does. he refuses to just see her as “the bad guy.” he sees the person underneath. he believes that people, even enemies, can do the right thing if you give them a real chance.

was it a little naive? yeah, kinda. but it worked because mark’s the kind of guy who means it. like, really means it. and people can tell. that’s why his idealism hits so hard. he never gives up on the idea that there’s a better way.

Oliver and Allen VS Mark

okay, so one of the most heartbreaking examples of mark’s idealism clashing with the people he loves is the whole scourge virus situation.

basically, allen the alien and mark’s half-brother oliver come up with this plan to release a modified version of the scourge virua, the same virus that almost wiped out the viltrumites, to finish the job for good.

and mark? mark is horrified.

he’s not just worried about the viltrumites (even though yeah, some of them deserve it). he’s thinking about the humans. he’s thinking about the risk. he’s thinking about how unleashing something that dangerous ever is just crossing a moral line you can’t uncross.

so he tries to stop them. and it turns into a full-on fight. it’s messy, it’s emotional, and somewhere in the middle of it all, oliver, desperate and panicking, accidentally infects mark with the virus. mark almost dies.

and even after all that, after being betrayed and almost killed by his own brother, mark doesn’t blow up in rage. he’s just heartbroken. because for mark, the real tragedy isn’t what happened to him. it’s that people he loves were willing to risk something so horrific, to cross a line he’s spent his whole life refusing to cross.

like... he would literally rather fight his own family, risk dying, than give up on his ideals. he genuinely believes that the ends don’t justify the means, even if it costs him everything.

The Final Battle with Thragg and Mark's Monologue

by the end of the comic, we really get the full picture of who mark grayson has become. all that stubborn idealism, independence, and moral conviction he’s built up over the years? it all comes to a head during his final battle with thragg.

and the thing is...mark’s not just throwing punches. he’s saying everything he’s believed, everything that’s come to define him. he straight-up rejects thragg’s whole worldview, the viltrumite mindset of "strength over everything." and while they’re fighting, mark gives this monologue (mid-fight, because of course he does) that honestly just hits you right in the chest:

“you see us as people living only for conquest, measured only by the size of our empire. no room for peace. no room for compassion. no room for love… the truth is you were holding us back… we can be a force for good. we can spread peace throughout the galaxy. we can love and be loved. we can be happy.”

like... that’s so mark. even after everything he’s been through, even while he's locked in a life or death fight, he still believes people, even viltrumites, can be better.

and it’s not just talk either. this is what mark actually wants. he’s trying to turn an empire built on war into something good. it’s insanely idealistic, yeah, but it’s 100% real. and what’s really cool is that he’s doing it his way. not the way any viltrumite leader before him would’ve done it. this is mark’s independence on full blast, he's building something new, completely breaking away from the old viltrumite pride and brutality.

thragg, of course, can’t even wrap his head around it. and mark beats him, physically and symbolically. it’s basically proving that compassion and strength aren’t opposites. mark’s showing that being a good person doesn’t mean being weak, and being cruel doesn’t mean you’re strong.

if you’re writing fanfiction that covers late-series or post-series mark, this moment is a huge thing to keep in mind. by now, he’s not the uncertain teenager anymore. he knows who he is and what he stands for. but he hasn’t lost that earnestness, that moral fire he had as a kid, if anything, it’s gotten stronger and sharper.

mark taking down thragg with conviction shows the kind of leader he’s grown into. he’s not just reacting to problems anymore; he’s actively trying to shape a better future. people look up to him, even people who used to be enemies, because of the integrity he shows. not because they’re scared of him, but because they respect him.

another super important thing: even after all that, mark doesn’t turn into some dictator. like, it would’ve been so easy for him to say, “i’m the strongest, i’m in charge now.” but he doesn’t. he stays focused on making things better. he pushes for the viltrumites to actually protect earth, to integrate, to live differently. he keeps that humility.

even at the height of his power, he’s worrying about being a good husband, a good dad (the finale shows his future family life), and living up to his ideals. he never stops checking himself because deep down, he’s terrified of turning into what his dad was.

so if you’re writing a future!mark or an alt ending where he’s leading the viltrumites or running with huge responsibilities, always keep that in mind: no matter how powerful he is, he’s still that same kid who’s scared of losing his humanity and who’ll do anything to protect it.

Now that we understand the Idealism surrounding his character, let's discuss how to actually write him.

okay so if you’re writing mark grayson in fanfics, one of the biggest things you have to remember is that he is not a soft boy. he is not a “yes man.” he is not some passive sunshine character who just agrees with whatever the hell his friends or love interest says because he’s so sweet and loyal. that’s just not who he is.

mark is kind. he’s empathetic. he loves deeply. but he is stubborn as hell when it comes to his beliefs. like painfully, frustratingly stubborn.

he doesn’t just roll over when someone he loves disagrees with him. he doesn’t abandon his moral compass to avoid conflict. if anything, he’ll fight even harder against the people he cares about because he believes so strongly in what he thinks is right.

this is the guy who:

tells cecil (the literal head of the GDA, who helped him post omni-man) to fuck off to his face because cecil’s methods are too corrupt.

tries to rehabilitate a literal eco-terrorist (dinosaurus) because he genuinely thinks they could do good together, even when everyone else calls him insane.

punches his own little brother and one of his best friends (oliver and allen) in the face when they want to use the scourge virus to wipe out the viltrumites, because he refuses to believe genocide is ever the answer even when it would save billions of lives.

goes into exile on an alien planet with his family instead of accepting a “peaceful” dictatorship run by robot, because he would rather lose everything than live under tyranny. then, he eventually comes back and kills robot himself.

like... mark is kind, yes. but he’s not compliant. he’s not someone you can easily sway just because you’re close to him. he doesn’t make decisions based on what’s easiest or what’ll hurt the fewest feelings. he makes decisions based on what he believes is right, even if it blows up his relationships. even if it hurts people he loves. even if it isolates him.

so when you’re writing him:

let him argue. let him push back when something doesn’t sit right with him.

let him get angry when his beliefs are challenged. he’s emotional. he’s reactive.

let him stand his ground even when it costs him.

let him care so deeply it hurts him sometimes.

don’t be afraid to show that he’s wrong, too because sometimes his stubbornness backfires horribly (like trusting dinosaurus). but even when he’s wrong, he’s never malicious. he’s never apathetic. he’s trying.

he’s not cold. he’s not cruel. but he’s also not a people-pleaser. he’s willing to lose friends, mentors, allies, and even his home if it means doing what he feels is right.

common mischaracterizations you should avoid:

making him a soft, easily manipulated boyfriend who never questions anything.

making him prioritize romance over his core values without struggle. (like, if you have him abandoning his morals instantly for love, it feels wrong. he might bend, but it would mess him up inside and cause conflict.) DO NOT CONFLATE HIS MORALS WITH WHAT THE GDA BELIEVES!!

making him unrealistically calm and detached. mark feels everything with his whole chest. when he’s hurt or angry, it shows. he doesn't bottle it up perfectly.

writing him like he's just “along for the ride” emotionally. mark makes decisions. he moves the plot. even when he’s wrong, he’s active, not passive.

writing mark grayson right means letting him be a mess sometimes. it means letting him get bloodied up in fights he probably can’t win. it means letting him make terrible mistakes because he believed too hard in someone. it means letting him love people and lose people and still keep standing, still keep hoping. still keep fighting for the better world he dreams of.

because that's what makes him invincible. not the powers. not the strength. it’s the fact that even when everything in him is broken, his body, his mind, etc, he keeps fighting for what he believes in.

bad vs good characterization examples for mark

example 1

bad: "are you sure about this?" he asked, voice trembling. "i mean... if you think it's right, i'll go along with it. i trust you." (he says nothing else. he just follows along. no hesitation, no conflict, just blind loyalty.)

why it's wrong: this makes him sound like a passive puppy who just goes wherever the story/author pushes him. mark is loyal, yeah, but he’s not a yes man. if something feels wrong to him, he’s going to say something even if it starts a fight.

good: "i don’t know if i can go with you on this," mark said, frowning. "i get why you want to do it... i do. but it doesn’t sit right with me. it’s not who i want to be." his hands flexed at his sides, restless. "i’m not trying to fight you. i’m trying to make you understand." (there’s tension. there’s conflict. but the love is still there. he’s standing his ground because he cares.)

example 2

bad: mark nodded immediately. "you're right. i didn’t even think about it that way. i’ll change everything i'm doing for you." (he has no independent thought. he never questions anything. he changes core beliefs instantly.)

why it's wrong: mark can compromise sometimes, but it’s never instant. if he changes his mind, it comes from hard conversations, real consequences, or deep emotional shifts. he doesn’t just flip a switch because someone asked him nicely.

good: "maybe you’re right," mark muttered after a long beat, his jaw locked. "but you can’t expect me to throw away everything i believe just because it's easier." he exhaled, frustrated, running a hand through his ebony hair. "i need to think. i can't just... pretend this doesn't matter."

key reminders when writing mark:

he’s stubborn. like cartoonishly stubborn. even when it’s inconvenient. even when it costs him everything.

he’s idealistic. he genuinely believes doing the right thing matters, even if nobody else believes it anymore.

he’s emotional. he feels everything with his whole chest. anger, sadness, guilt, hope, it’s never muted or put down for the sake of plot purposes.

he’s reactive. mark doesn’t always think things through. if he sees something he doesn't like or someone he loves in danger, he moves first, thinks later.

he’s not a people pleaser. even if he loves you, if you’re doing something he thinks is wrong, he’s gonna call you out. loudly.

he fights with people he loves. not because he loves them less but because he loves them too much to let them destroy themselves or cause harm to other people that causes conflict in what he believes in.

he’s not a soft boy. he’s kind. he’s empathetic. but he’s also willing to bloody his fists and risk his life for what he believes in.

he’s not passive. mark makes choices. even when they’re bad ones. he’s an active character who moves the plot forward.

he’s wrong sometimes. his idealism blinds him. he trusts the wrong people. he fucks up. and he owns it (eventually).

he doesn't believe violence is the first answer (especially at the end of the series). but when it’s necessary, he doesn’t hold back. if he’s in a fight, he’s there to win.

he can’t be guilt tripped into giving up his morals. you can hurt him. you can betray him. but you can’t make him become someone he’s not.

he keeps hoping. even after all the betrayal, death, loss, heartbreak he's gone through, he never fully lets go of hope.

NOTABLE MOMENTS TO HELP CHARACTERIZE HIM IN YOUR FIC

“DON’T EVER THREATEN MY FAMILY!!” – Issue #33.

this is mark at his absolute breaking point just pure protective rage, screaming at angstrom who just hurt his mom. it’s a simple line, but it hits because you can feel everything behind it. the second someone he loves is in danger, mark doesn’t hold back. he doesn’t care about looking heroic or calm, he just loses it. and that’s something to keep in mind if you’re writing him, when mark’s temper explodes, it’s not about his pride or getting even. it’s about protecting the people he loves. period. he’s like a lion protecting his cubs its all instinct, no hesitation. so if you’re ever writing a scene where a villain’s threatening someone close to him, picture mark practically shaking, shouting until his voice breaks, just burning with that raw, desperate anger. it’s not polished or composed, it’s messy, it’s emotional, and it’s all love underneath it.

“THIS IS BEING A SUPER-HERO? I'M JUST STOPPING CRAP FROM HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING REALLY WORTHWHILE… …AND WHEN I FAIL… MY GOD, I FAIL BIG. WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THE WORLD, EVE… …BUT INSTEAD THINGS JUST KEEP GETTING WORSE.” – Issue #81.

it’s not just some random thought he brushes off. you can tell it hits him. like... what if everything he’s been doing hasn’t actually changed anything? what if he’s just patching holes in something that’s already falling apart? it’s honestly a gut-punch moment because mark is usually so stubbornly hopeful. but even he isn’t immune to wondering if any of it’s enough. and it’s such an important part of who he is, he doesn’t just blindly believe everything’s fine. he feels it when it isn’t. he questions himself. he struggles with it. if you’re writing fanfic and you want to show a more introspective or vulnerable side of him, especially after something rough happens, this is the kind of feeling you want to tap into. not him giving up, but that raw, exhausted moment where he’s like, what’s the point if nothing ever really changes? it makes him feel real. because even with all the optimism and fight he’s got, sometimes the weight of it still catches up to him.

HOW TO WRITE HIS HUMOR/MORE LIGHT-HEARTED SIDE

mark isn’t all heavy drama and serious fights, he actually has a ton of light, funny moments, especially early on. like when he first starts getting his powers and his coworker asks him about his future, he just says

“finish high school, I guess.”

which is funny because he already knows he’s about to step into something way bigger.

there are little moments like that all over, times when he’s play fighting with william, or throwing out corny jokes, especially about stuff like science dog (his favorite comic, seance dog in the show). even though a lot of this guide focuses on the heavy, emotional stuff, it’s important not to forget these slice of life stuff

if you’re writing fanfics with him, adding in those little jokes or funny lines can really help keep mark in character. think about it like how spider-man cracks jokes during fights except mark’s version is a little less snarky and more dorky he jokes the most when he’s around people he’s comfortable with, and it’s not because he’s not taking things seriously it’s because that humor is just a part of who he is.

DISCLAIMER!

one of the biggest differences between comic mark and show mark is that comic mark is definitely rougher around the edges, especially early on. he’s not the super polished, always perfect hero type. in the early issues, mark can actually be kind of crude, he uses slurs (like the r-word) and makes some offhanded gay jokes, usually when he’s goofing around with william. it’s definitely surprising when you read it now, but it’s also important to understand that it’s part of his growth. it’s not written to make him look good, it’s showing that he’s a dumb teenage boy who hasn’t figured everything out yet. he says thoughtless, insensitive stuff because he’s young, immature, and still has a lot of learning to do.

and the comics let him grow.

later on, when william comes out to him, mark doesn’t just brush it off or make another dumb joke, he’s genuinely supportive. he accepts william without hesitation. and from that point on, you can see a clear shift, mark stops using slurs, stops making those kinds of jokes. it’s not a huge dramatic “lesson learned” moment, but the change is there. he matures. he gets it.

the show sort of skips over this whole messy, realistic part of his character arc. animated mark is a lot more careful and a little more "clean" from the start, he doesn’t really say anything offensive, and he’s framed as a lot more socially aware right out of the gate. which makes sense for a modern audience and a tv format, but it does smooth out some of the rough growth we see in comic mark.

comic mark’s early immaturity makes his later kindness and emotional intelligence feel earned. it’s not that he’s perfect, it’s that he chooses to grow, to be better, to really care about people in a way that goes beyond surface-level acceptance. that’s a huge part of what makes comic mark feel so real. he screws up, he says dumb stuff, but he listens, he learns, and he changes.

CONCLUSION AND FINAL NOTE!

at the end of the day, mark grayson isn’t about being perfect. he’s about trying. he’s stubborn as hell, emotional, sometimes reckless, and way more human than people give him credit for.

he holds onto what he believes even when everyone’s telling him to give up. he fights for the people he loves even when it costs him everything. he messes up (a lot), but he always, always tries to be better. that’s what makes him mark.

when you’re writing him, don’t be afraid to show all of it, the anger, the humor, the doubt, the stubborn hope that somehow refuses to die even when everything’s falling apart. he’s not supposed to be perfect or untouchable. he’s supposed to feel real.

sometimes he gets it wrong. sometimes he crashes and burns. but the point is, he keeps going. he cares even when it’s easier not to. and that’s why people love him.

i hope breaking all this down helps if you’re trying to write him, understand him better, or just see where he’s coming from. because when you really look at it, mark’s whole story isn’t about being the strongest guy in the room it’s about being the one who refuses to give up on people, even when it would be easier to stop caring.

thanks for reading! and honestly, if you ever feel stuck writing him, just go back to that core idea > he never stops trying. that’s who he is.