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13tinysocks · 13 days ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

It's over. You're no longer trapped to die in that desert. But you're not free, nowhere close. You think you are, all cozy in a hospital bed while politics and assholes decide your fate.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

Arc 2 time *smirk emoji* NSFW

[Part one] [Ao3] [21] [23] [Cum Jar]

22 * Politics As Usual [11k]

"Thank you governor,

To the mayor and the commissioner,

Your monster is alive now."

Thanks, Bastards! - Mischief Brew

You hit cool, tiled floor, making everything that already ached and bled, worse. You skidded to a stop on your side, tears forced out the corners of your eyes. You can smell monotony in the air with a spring-y air freshener. You lift your pounding head and take it in. Polished floors, wood walls, and plaques bearing the United States flag. Not five seconds ago you were in Mark's living room, now you were somewhere else, somewhere put together in a hotel kind of way. It made you think of mimosas and complimentary continental breakfast, and it sets in you're not in the desert. Your next meal isn't going to be Mark- unless this was all some sick dream.

A grunt pulls your attention. In front of revolving doors sat a pulsing green portal, are two figures. Locked in a stiff battle. Mohawk was unwilling to let Mark go, lest he disappear through the portal. Mark punched at his gut to try and pry him off. "Let go, man!"

Mohawk moved, trapping Mark in a chokehold. He turned his head to the open gray hallway, shouting, "Kregg, get your ass down here or I'm skinning you alive!"

You stupidly watched the empty hallway. The adrenaline from the desert fight receding fast, pain coming in hot throbs that wracked your body, the still bleeding wound on your shoulder pulsing in time with your heart rate. Everytime you blinked, your lids were a little heavier.

You think it's a hallucination when the portal shifts and a man came worming through. It wasn't. Phantom was very much real. With every blink, he was still there, coming closer, blue eyes set on you. He got close, reaching out with his one remaining hand before his eyes rolled back. He went slack against the floor, dead or unconscious.

Mark shoved an elbow into Mohawk's gut, prying himself free and shooting for the portal. The portal groaned as two figures shove through, a wall of muscle that caught Mark and pushed him back. Markus and Gray don't particularly know what Mohawk's plan was and they don't particularly care. They were here for you.

Mark didn't know that. Thought they were all in on some twisted scheme. He backed up but stayed out of Mohawk's immediate reach, "What is this?"

Wind rushed down the hallway before he even appeared. "Sir!" The Marks paused to stare at the wall of a man, clad in a stark white uniform so close to Gray's. His red mechanical eye went Mark to Mark as his mustachioed lip fell open. "Sirs?"

"You can't recognize your own Emperor?" Mohawk sneered.

The man went rigid. "O-of course I do!"

"What took you so long?"

"I-"

Mark used the distraction to try and push through the portal again. And again, right as he was about to escape, a wall of people flew through. This time, the portal collapsed when they came through. Lensless with three other men hanging off him. One of them a thrashing Angstrom Levy who held out his hand to make another portal. Lensless laughed and headbutted the man in his soft unprotected brain. He went limp.

"Aw shit." Lensless shook the man, waiting for a response but there was none. "There I go again. You're not dead, right? If you're dead, you can't take me and (Y/n) back together." Angstrom didn't reply. Lensless groaned annoyedly.

Mohawk pointed at Angstrom, "Kregg, take him to the labs. Collar him immediately."

"Which one, sir?" Kregg asked.

Mohawk bristled. "Obviously the one with the giant fucking brain, you idiot!" Usually, he could be a little more put together talking to his underlings, but Mohawk was currently in a state. Pulsing with forming bruises and anger.

Kregg hovered closer but was hesitant to snatch Angstrom away. Lensless's face, despite the torn mask and the lack of an eye, was still the Emperor's.

Lensless dropped Scars to hold Angstrom close to him like a toy not to be shared. "Finders keepers, losers weepers."

Seb quietly let go his ankle. Not wanting anything to do with whatever stupid shit he was planning.

Scars hit the ground, barely awake enough to stay on all fours. "If anyone's using him, it's gonna be me." He coughed up blood and two teeth.

"Kregg." Mohawk hissed testily.

"Right, yes sir."

"Emperor." Mohawk corrected.

Kregg swallowed, "Yes, Emperor." He reached out for Angstrom's cape.

Mark snatched Angstrom away before he could be grabbed. He shook the man by the shoulders, "Take me back!" Angstrom's engorged head wobbled. "You said you wanna do good, right? So take me back!"

Mohawk opened his mouth to chide again but Kregg was on Mark, tearing Angstrom from his grip then flying away down the halls. Shouting back, "I'll send the others!"

Mark went to fly after him but Mohawk was faster. Kicking him in the head and sending him crashing through the wall. "Don't worry asshole, I've got a special place in hell picked out just for you."

Mark stood, drywall caked in his hair. "I don't know what you've been through. I don't care that you're some Emperor of whatever. You can't keep me here." He stepped back into the room, dusting off his shoulders, "And there's no way you can keep the rest of them here too."

Mohawk smirked. "Oh, you're the only one I plan on keeping." Tension tightened in the air. Mohawk laughed at the glares thrown his way. "Sorry fellas. I'd say it's been great survivin' with ya but it's been kinda shitty actually," he turned, grown out mohawk sweeping over his neck, "'Xcept with you babe. You gonna keep that promise right?"

He knew damn well you said it in the heat of the moment. That he never got around to fulfilling his end of the deal. Still, he can't resist teasing.

"Go fuck..." Your head dipped, vision blacked, your body is shutting down. You forced the rest of the phase out, "Yourself."

"Only if you watch." He winked.

"That's it then? You're getting rid of us just like that?" Seb panted from the floor. Knowing if he stood up to fight he'd pass out. "Thought we were cool, bro."

"We are." Mohawk said easily, "Just, ya'know, not enough room for other Emperor's n' all."

Markus's knuckles cracked as he formed fists. "You can't possibly take us all on." Most everyone else was hurt while Mohawk was nearly okay, still, the numbers didn't add in his favor.

"Emperor." A cool feminine voice said. "Would you like me to take care of these vermin?"

You turned your head to find more people you'd never seen. All dressed in white with Gray-esque skirts hanging over their thighs. The one who spoke hovered off the ground, a slender older woman with a long braid wrapped around her neck. A wicked knife hung from its end. A chill went through your bones when her eyes scrutinously pass over you.

Behind her were two men. Large, imposing. One with bald head, freshly shaven but with a perfect mustache. The other with a neat head of ginger hair. Mohawk's side was still outnumbered but you could tell- the battle would be quick. The Marks were powerful, true, but they'd all been stuck in starvation-mode for months. They didn't stand a chance. You even less.

Mohawk meandered over to you. Leaving the other Marks standing and floating still. For if they moved a fraction, these newcomers would converge savagely on them. He bent down, scraping you off the floor. "Now you c-"

"Emperor, if I may." One of the men said much to Mohawk's chagrin.

"You've gotten brave in my time away, Lucan." You leaned into Mohawk's chest. Unable to keep your head up. Fading but still feeling the pain.

Lucan, the dark-skinned bald man, showed no sign of duress at his tone. Face kept expertly even. "These last ten months haven't been good for the empire."

Seb said quietly to himself, "Ten?" Because he swore it'd been two or three. God, this interdenominational time bullshit hurt his head.

Lucan ignored him. "We've lost contact with two small squadrons of soldiers. Multiple of our colonies have ceased contact."

Mohawk's jaw ticked. "Any other dirty laundry you wanna air out in front of the fucking enemy?"

"I'm saying they don't have to be enemies, sir." The words were like a wrecking ball to the quiet that'd overtaken the Marks.

No one said anything for a moment.

The braid-headed female snorted. "Who needed them? They were weak."

Lucan's brow twitched. "The empire is weak, unless we do something." There was some more bickering that passed between them that you didn't understand. You started to dip in and out of the moment, feeling so heavy in Mohawk's arms.

You return to your body when his voice vibrated his chest, booming in your ear, "Shut up, all of you!"

Mohawk scanned the men scattered bloody through the lobby of the Pentagon. His base of operations here on Earth that he'd lazily occupied for so long. He'd been needing a reform. A change to how he ran things. Before this, he thought maybe he should return to Viltrum, run things from deep space. He still did- with the added cherry on top of having more soldiers, more minds that thought alike. He had you, had Angstrom to help him take over other dimensions- why not get a little greedy and have the other Marks too?

But there was one issue more pressing than boring war politics. You had gone limp in his arms, still bled into his desert dirty suit. He looked to his subjects, now lock-jaw quiet. "Get us to the medbay."

The ginger, Vidor, opened his mouth, "Which one, Emperor?" There was one a few floors under their feet but Mohawk wasn't looking down.

"My medbay."

***

The first thing you noticed was how cool the air was. So cool you were glad for the sheets pulled up your legs. You were sunken into a stiff mattress, not a garbage cot, but a real bed. Half your body hoisted up.

Your eyes had yet to open. Sluggish mind slow to catch up but immediate to say, don't open, don't ruin this sweet dream so fast. Though your fingers flexed, probing the sheets. Sure enough, there was a real blanket beneath you, not woven trash. Soft, freshly washed fabric. Your eyes dared to open.

Immediately you were blinded. Dread sunk in. It was the sun. You didn't escape. You were right back where you started. You'd be trapped forever and-

But you're looking up at a pure white ceiling, not a gray sky. No knicks or stains, hell, no lights hanging or embedded but the room was still plenty bright.

You turned your neck which was strangely pliant and relaxed, though your shoulder twitched painlessly, gently to remind you of an absence of flesh. You expect to see beeping machines or an IV drip by your bedside but there isn't one.

Beyond that is nothing but empty room and a window overlooking a clear night and nothing else. Again, you see stars. You don't know how long you looked out at them before you decided to move again. The pillow under your head was so crisp and clean it was almost alien.

The rest wasn't so empty. In fact, the wall opposite yours was filled by a massive machine. Controls set into the wall, white as everything else. Set stark against the lack of color was what you could only describe as a vat of candy-pink goo. In the middle, connected to an oxygen mask with sixteen different pumps and wires connected to his near-naked body was Phantom. Eyes closed, looking at peace but not dead. He was much better than last you saw him. Through the pink tint you can tell his bruises and open wounds have healed. His pink, near infected stubs are healed over. Wrapped in new baby soft skin.

For a moment, you are deeply confused. Then it all comes back, hitting you like a freight train. The fight, the sandstorm, Mark, Angstrom, this new too-clean place. You didn't know what to think when you were passing out in Mohawk's arms but not this. Everything was too clean, too normal. Phantom was alive- Mohawk didn't want that, Mohawk wouldn't do that. This place was a mirage.

You sat up, blanket falling down your thighs. You expected pain when you shifted forward but again there was none. You whipped the blanket off your legs, expecting the worst. Covering your legs and most of the rest of your body was a plain white hospital gown. No dirty, dead solders' uniform. It's then you notice that you don't reek of sweat and days old blood.

Strange, but stranger was the lump set into your arm just under the gown's sleeve cut off right above your elbow. It's a tiny thing, gray on the outside, bright blue and lightly glowing in the center. You poke at it and feel something inside you shift, a needle perhaps. Either way, it scared the shit out of you but you're hesitant to remove it. It could be administering something you needed.

You leaned forward, pulling up the gown hem and finding knees wrapped in fabric braces. You bent them one at time. The movement was stiff, tense but not bad. It was... weird. Last you remembered you felt like death, now you felt utterly fine.

The room was quiet. Too quiet without the expected hum of doctors or machines, even the weird goo tube was near silent. You swung your legs off the bed, hoping the unsearched side of the room would hold more of a clue. It did. There's more machinery hooked up to Phantom's goo-chamber, a door to what you assume is a hall and another bed. Sat some feet away. It's inhabitant eyes are closed, sitting so still you worry he's a very pretty corpse.

"Hello?" You shifted forward tentatively.

When his eyes blinked open, you almost jumped.

"Hi," Gray said, laid in his own hospital bed. You knew it was him because of how stiffly he was laid, knew he wasn't Mark Mark because he was happy to see you, "Good to see you're awake."

You waited for the next thing, for an explanation but he didn't give one. It's up to you to ask, "What the fuck is going on?" You didn't wait for a reply, just started to move to him. Bare feet touched the ground, ice cold, sending a shock up your spine. You stood, leaning heavily on the bedrail were shocked to find you didn't crumple, that you could actually stand on your own.

Gray watched as you shambled over. "You really shouldn't be moving so much." Yet he didn't rise to stop you coming to his bedside. Part of him hoped you would. It was strange, these new feelings you'd made bloom in him- hope, desire. He hadn't seen much of the Viltrumites of this dimension; many he'd known in his own as comrades, but they seemed much the same. Stiff and unfeeling. He would be an outlier here as he was at home. Maybe all Mark Grayson's were.

"Don't think I'm dyin' right now." You stopped, leaning on his bed rail and looking him over. His sheet was neatly folded and hung from the other rail, along with his shirt, crisp and new as everything else. Exposing a mostly bare chest, clean and shiny under the white light. Instead of a torn cape, there are thin supports fit around body with another implant, identical to the one on your arm but larger, over the area his guts spilled out. Not a spot of blood.

Mind blank, maybe from his body, maybe from the situation, maybe from the fact that he was still alive, you reached out for where you remembered the hole inside him was. You stop yourself before your fingertips touch down on the disc-shaped implant. Your eyes flick up his chest to his face, anxiously watching you, waiting for your touch. Eager for it even.

You stayed hovering, just out of reach. You made yourself look away from him and those quietly desperate eyes. Down to his clothed legs, his hands folded over his lap atop his new skirt. You remember holding a scrap so similar, thinking it'd be the last of him and how strangely sad that made you. But he's here now, alive, and well-ish.

"You didn't answer my question." You leaned more into the bed rail. "What's with all," you wave around the room, "this? How long have I been out?"

Gray looked out the window like it held the answers. Apparently it did, "Eighteen hours, give or take." It'd been prudent to learn how to accurately guess the passage of time when on missions. If you missed the ship drop off or pickup or rendezvous, you'd be in store for some serious reprimand. Luckily, Gray never had. Conquest wasn't good at many things but conquering, but the man could tell the time down to the second if he thought about it. He did his best to impart the skill onto Gray.

Your gaze stayed on him. You'd always known he was pretty but when he was laid bare and still like this, it was almost painful. Gray felt the prickling pull of your attention and turned back to you. "We're currently in the Emperor's personal medbay on one of his many warships. We're still in Earth's orbit but I'm unsure how long that will last. The others were here earlier, but most of them sustained minor injuries. Others were too proud to stay." As for Lensless and his double broken legs? They were set back under the skin, hit with a medicine more advanced than agent fourteen. He couldn't walk yet on fractured bone but he could hover- as he had out of the room. Seb and Scars had barely tolerated treatment and left despite requests to stay by medical staff. Gray was partly glad for it- it bought him some time alone with you. "They've all been in a meeting for some time now."

"Meeting?" You scowled.

Gray got the quick and dirty of the logistics when Mohawk had his minions take the others out. Markus told him he'd get a better fill in once he wasn't partly unconscious. "Angstrom Levy has been captured and will be used to help expand the empire. As will the rest of us, I'm assuming, though we're not prisoners, for now."

There was so much to those words you can't figure a way to respond that isn't, "What?"

Gray went on, "Mohawk, I believe you called him, currently holds Angstrom Levy under lock and key. He has forces to stop the others from accessing him. I'm unsure whether the deal is work for him or die or work for him then be allowed to leave. Either way, I owe him my life." He looked to the goo chamber, "Many of us do. But...I'm not sure keeping everyone alive is the right idea."

***

Across the ship, Scars sneered at Mohawk's finishing proposal. "You think any of us will fucking take that shitty deal?" Work for Mohawk's empire for an unspecified amount of time, until he decided they were done helping him, supposedly. Then get sent back to their own dimensions by Angstrom Levy once Mohawk better understood his powers. The man currently jailed and unable to escape. Worst of all, Mohawk got to keep you.

Kregg looked like he'd been punched. Nobody ever spoke to the Emperor so rudely. He stepped forward in front of Emperor Mark's seat, tall and white, a replica of his throne waiting for him on Viltrum. "Silence! The Emperor has clothed and fed and healed you. Do not repay his kindness with-"

"Kregg?" The Emperor said coolly.

"I've got this, don't worry about it." It must've shown on Kregg's face how confusing the command was because the Emperor said, "He's me, remember. And while he's not in charge here, show him the same respect, even if he's an ungrateful fuckhead."

Scars scoffed as Kregg muttered an apology. "Don't act like you weren't expecting some push back. You can't just dangle her in front of us like that and expect us not to fill her holes and run."

Kregg struggled not to open his mouth, not to punch the Emperor's doppelganger's face in. But he did as he was told, watching the whole ordeal with a straight face.

Mohawk leaned back, legs spread wide. The skirts of his regal uniform draping down to his ankles. Usually, he wasn't one for such formalities like the emperor's official uniform, but he'd demanded it upon return plus some modifications to make it much different than his father's. The very same uniform he refused and called stupid when he was first crowned Emperor all those years ago- for years he insisted on wearing his old supersuit from his days masquerading as a hero for those weak, useless humans. Now he never wanted to wear that supersuit again. He could still feel its armor now, pressing hotly to his clean skin that still didn't feel clean. So, he'd made the change and found he liked the outfit. He hoped you had a thing for men in uniform.

He tapped his freshly shaven chin. "That would be a little cruel wouldn't it?" In the desert, he'd plotted how to get you away from the others though no plans ever came to fruition. Now though? He wasn't held back by survival needs. Had people to control or kill the others for him. Yet he still found himself loosened by the joy of not being stranded in the desert. The sweet victory of having everything he could ever want- and more at his fingertips.

It wouldn't be a bad idea, using you as a prize to keep the others in check. They'd certainly be much more difficult to work with if they couldn't get at you. Plus, you'd fight hard against being locked up and he didn't want you feeling too trapped. Though make no mistake, you were his and you were not leaving the ship, but you didn't have to know that. You'd figure it out eventually but for now, you could be blind a while for your own good. At the end of the day, even if the others fucked you in the mouth and came wherever they pleased, you were still his.

"But... I hate you and think you should die. Like, actually, you bit a chunk out of my girlfriend. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mohawk was so swept up in everything he'd let his grudge match slide to the back of his mind. Let Scars be pampered by his subjects. Well, no more. Who gives a shit if the empire needs him- he didn't need Scars that much.

Kregg moved forward but didn't go in for the kill. Good man, knowing Mohawk would want to do it himself. Like he'd been so rudely interrupted during.

Given his borrowed time, Scars opened his mouth to spit out what may be his last words. Chosen very, very carefully. "What's wrong with me is you're not dead and I'm not fucking her on your corpse."

***

Back in the medbay, you feel a chill. Not because of the air but because Gray met your eyes and said, "You're the reason I made it out of that cave alive, and I'm grateful for that. So I can be here, with you."

You just laughed, even though the memory makes you want to scream and kill things. "You're the one who saved my life. All I did to you was feel up your guts."

"Without your interference, I'd be in a much worse state." He nodded toward the goo chamber. Housing Phantom, all but dead to the world. "Or dead in the battle. I'm much further along than he is. The doctors say I should be battle ready by tomorrow morning and you could be discharged any minute now."

"Dunno about that." You leaned a little harder into his bedside. The longer you stood, you woozier you felt. Apparently, the weird little implant could only do so much.

Gray shimmied to the other edge of his bed, giving up a sliver of mattress for you to lay on.

"Sit." He was trying to sound human and humans didn't give companions direct commands, but he was so unused to using that tone of voice it sounded like his typical solider voice. A command given to a lesser alien species: submit or die.

You laughed as his voice twisted to mild mortification. "I'm fine right here. Don't want to press on something I shouldn't."

His face reset to one of neutrality. "You won't. By human standards, I'm fine." He scooted into the bed rail, "Your legs must hurt, sit." This time he sounded a little less demanding more polite...ish.

They didn't hurt per se, but you could feel every shift of weight on your knees. Whatever the doctors had done to you, killed the pain and swelling, but left you feeling too put together- if that was even a bad thing. You sighed and climbed onto the bed, "Tell me if I'm touching you too much." There was only enough room for you to lay slotted on your side, pressed against the rail and his hard body. You folded in your arms, press your legs back to rail to avoid touching him as much as possible, not because the idea was appalling but because you were afraid he might shatter.

He picks up on this, saying, "You can relax. There is no possible way for a human to hurt me."

Your laugh, mocking as it was, warmed his heart. "Wow. You don't pull any punches."

"Viltrumites do not 'pull punches'." He knows sometimes they do, but he says it because he knows you'll laugh. It's his prize for going through so much. One he thinks he'd more than earned. "Please, relax." It took some seconds for you to do so but when your arms uncross, one idly falling over his own, he feels something within him relax with you.

"Just let me know if it hurts." You say.

Gray would rather die than admit pain or weakness. The others seeing him in such a state was a wound worse than gutting to his pride. "Again, we have the most advanced medicine in the universe, I am in no pain. There are many ailments I didn't know existed until my Mother told me of them- because they simply do not exist on Viltrum or our colonies. I'm assuming the empire holds the same knowledge here." He smiles to himself.

You know jack and shit about the Viltrum Empire other than what you saw Omni Man say on national television while beating the shit out of his son and your recent ex-boyfriend. You remember it'd creeped you the hell out, the idea of alien invaders thinking they knew what was best for Earth. Not that you'd know any better, but the amount of people Omni Man killed just trying to drill that lesson into Mark? Yeah, that shit was existentially terrifying. But at the same time it didn't affect your job or standing under Machine Head so you'd just turned the news off.

Now that you were in a Viltrumite warship? You had to pay attention. Were forced to feel the discomfort of not knowing just like you had in the desert, though now it was more mundane and creeping.

He opened his mouth and you knew he was going to talk about the empire again. "Agent fourteen is rather rudimentary. There is only so much we can take on missions and it has to work quickly but not too quickly. And if it got in the wrong hands, it could fuel rebel forces."

"Why is too quickly a bad thing?" You expect an answer like pain, discomfort.

He doesn't even blink when he says, "So weak Viltrumites can't use it as an escape from death." Jesus H. Christ. "But that's only on missions. In our hospitals, we can fix most ailments except a few things." A wounded heart, for one. You and that disarming smile for another.

He loathes to see it go as you make the face you normally do when he talks about the empire. "Interesting, cool, yeah." Your eyes focus on a faraway point on the wall, though he's sure you're not actually looking at the wall. "So no more desert, huh?" It's hard to imagine no more sun blistering your flesh, no more Mark jerky melting on your tongue. You're still partly convinced this place isn't real.

"No more desert." Gray replied coolly. He too was changed by the experience, strange as it was. He'd done plenty of missions for longer periods of time on harsh planets. Had dealt with food rationing and enemy forces but that wasn't what'd shifted him so. It was you. The shape of your body. The set of your lips. The feeling of them around him. That and being gutted, being weak, near helpless. He had never been injured by an opponent so gravely, felt the failure of it so deep in his bones it made him feel sicker than the injury itself. He was a disgrace to the empire yet here was Mohawk giving him another chance.

***

Mohawk's brows shot up at the clear challenge. Yet Scars made no move, to lunge at the Emperor was a death sentence. Scars was a bloodthirsty man but not a stupid one. He'd have to wait for Mohawk to come to him. Those well trained dogs of his wouldn't jump in until it was too late.

Still, Mohawk made no move to get up. Laxly laid out in his chair like he hadn't been fighting to the death in the desert yesterday. He turned his head to the council comprised of Thula, Vidor, Lucan, and General Kregg. "Klaxus venom to the blood or slow beheading, whadd'ya guys think?"

None of them spoke. Mohawk weighed his options a moment before saying, "You know what? I'm feeling generous today, slow beheading it is." He rolled forward in his seat to stand. Scars grinned and waited for the attack. Lensless's leg restlessly bounced under the table.

"Emperor Mark," Kregg said.

"Oh? You've got an idea. Lemme guess? Rip out his heart piece by piece and make him eat it?"

"None of those, Emperor."

Mohawk nodded seeming to understand, "Okay, a slow death in prison would be pretty fitting."

Kregg looked at his fellow council members. "I apologize we haven't been more forthcoming about this but there are only forty-two Viltrumites left."

Mohawk shot to his feet but not to lunge. "What!?"

"The two killed squadrons, Emperor," Lucan said.

Mohawk couldn't decide who to hurt first, Scars or Kregg. "You said you lost contact with them not that they were fucking dead! We're down like fifteen percent of our fucking population and you're only telling me now!?" There hadn't been exactly a good time. With all the arrangements of getting the other versions of himself healed, clothed, and fed, plus the power exchange between General Kregg and Emperor Mark- it was simply not possible. Plus the Emperor spent so much time in the medbay, keeping quiet vigil over your hospital bed. "What the hell happened!?"

Reactions rippled through the room. Lensless laughed. He knew plenty about Viltrum but not that particular detail. The others kept so many secrets from him, like they were afraid if he knew he'd take the already low number down to zero. He probably would've tried for the fun of it. Scars never knew for sure but had an idea the empire wasn't well off as they'd acted in transmissions to him. If they were doing so good why raise him on a shithole like Earth? Markus had known about the fifty, that's one of the many reasons he'd wanted to start a family with you. To bring the population back up after he exterminated his father. Plus, he'd wanted to be a father desperately. With you, he never could be. Seb knew the very basics of the empire and its plan, so didn't know what to think. Honestly, he didn't particularly care.

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't know," Kregg said.

Mohawk was in his face, spit flying off his teeth. All relaxed manner gone. "You don't know? What the fuck have you been doing while I've been gone?"

"Everything I could, sir. I had to be many places at once in your stead. I can tell you we lost communication with the first squadron seven months ago and sent the second the search for them. They confirmed the death of the first squadron and also disappeared. We are unsure by what means and I will figure it out but for now- they are dead and no longer serve the empire. We need as many soldiers as we can get." Mohawk opened his mouth. Kregg knew he was greatly overstepping but it was a must, he needed to make the Emperor see his side. "We'll keep them under constant surveillance. They'll have a shadow everywhere they go. They can't blink and not have us know about it. I know it's not ideal sir, but we need them."

It wasn't a bad idea, especially in light of this deeply unfortunate news that he was down so many pawns when he expected a number of zero dead, not eight. Still- whose fault was that letting that bullshit happen while he was away? Mohawk got into Kregg's face, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"The General of your dwindling army, sir. And forgive me, but, I won't have them in my army unless they both swear fealty to you this instant."

"What's that gonna do?" Scars laugh turned Mohawk's hot rage back onto its original target.

"Keep you out of our prisons. I suggest you get down on your knees for him now, unless you want to come with me." Kregg said because killing wasn't an option, only rehabilitation. As General, he'd lost too many people, too many colonies to the creeping influence of the Coalition of Planets.

Scars considered this. He knew Viltrumite prisons weren't a luxury hotel stay but he had the Emperor's face. He could escape any prison he was sure, but what then? Mohawk, by then, would've told the others to watch out for impersonators. He'd have Viltrumite soldiers on his ass. No matter what way he sliced it, Scars was better off free as he could be. Better off earning Mohawk's trust, as much as he could. Then he'd steal you right out from under his nose. By that point, he may not have a shadow, security would be laxer around him, he could get to Angstrom, force him to take you both back and drag Angstrom with you. Then he'd be emperor of his own empire with access to as many dimensions as he wanted.

Fealty didn't mean shit. He'd always be his own boss but for the sake of getting to his own throne, Scars stood from his seat. Walked around the oval table and took a knee at Mohawk's feet. Fist to the floor in subjugation. He could sense the other man's triumphant smirk, it made his skin crawl but he kept reminding himself. A double cross was on the way, may it be months or years from now, Scars would come out on top.

Mohawk could smell the disloyalty on him like a cologne but said nothing as Lensless followed suit. Saying, "I dunno what this changes but sure, dude."

Mohawk looked to Kregg. "If you catch them doing anything even a little off, I want them thrown in the asteroid." That very same prison that drove Mark to madness. He could only imagine the state they'd be in after a few months. "Thula, you're with him." He pointed to Scars, "Lucan, with him." Lensless, "Any damage they do falls on your shoulders."

The pair of elder Viltrumites stiffly nodded in acknowledgment. The second this meeting was over, they'd be on the duo's tails like, well, a tail.

"You may sit." He said to the bowed backs of his new subjects.

Scars rose slow while Lensless hopped up. Lensless immediately went back to his seat while Scars bobbed his head with a too-formal, "Yes, Emperor."

Thula grabbed onto the knife hanging at the end of her hair to stab some respect into him but Mohawk held up a hand, stopping her. "Cut the guy some slack." He said, "He is me after all n' plus. Things get a little boring around here with everyone's nose up my ass." He waved his hand toward Scars empty seat, "But I did say sit."

Scars turned his back, not hiding his disgusted sneer. Sitting down while the whole room watched felt dirty and wrong. Submission wasn't something he ever enjoyed.

Markus wouldn't accept this. He shot Scars a cutting glare across the table. "She isn't safe if either of them are left alive."

"Don't insult my officers by doubting their capability to put them in their rightful place." Mohawk replied.

"I'm sure they're plenty capable but you can't trust them," Markus said.

"You can't." Lensless so graciously helped his own case. "But I promise I'll be extra good if I can have some alone time with (Y/n)." Oh what he'd do with some proper privacy and a half hour. The very idea got his dick stirring under the table.

Markus considered lunging over the table and wringing the one-eyed freak's neck. "You will not be alone with my wife. Mo- Emperor, you can't possibly allow them to-"

"I can." Mohawk said, "And I will, if they can prove it's worthwhile for the empire."

Horror twisted in Markus's gut. "You can't possibly be using her as a reward for them."

Mohawk studied the other man. Going gray at the temples and everywhere else. Brow always set tense and muscles always ready to spring into action. His life was little and sad compared to Mohawk's- just some Viltrumite enforcer stuck on Earth or however that lame story went. Carrying his weak, useless father's torch. He couldn't possibly have any idea of how useful you were as a pawn here. Of course, Mohawk loved you and wanted to keep you safe- and he would- but the empire was important too. And Scars swear of fealty was null and void if he sometimes didn't get thrown a you-shaped bone. He had some other ideas to keep them in line but it'd be some time before he could even put that plan into motion.

"Don't act like you aren't hoping for the same thing." He finally said, sounding eerily similar to his father. Despite being out of the desert, he was tossed into an entirely different disaster he was now fully responsible for. It made him walk and talk like there was a purpose to his life besides surviving now, and there was. Because he knew soon as this meeting was over he could see you again.

"Of course I want to be with her, but you can't just overlook what they did."

"I won't, but I'm sure they won't break her. She took me just fine." The Emperor said rather aptly to the discomfort of his council.

Markus's jaw hung open. "They could've killed her. They'll try again. Fealty means nothing to them. Why keep them here?"

"He's useful." Mohawk said.

"I'm useful," Markus gestured to Seb, "he's useful," to the Viltrumite council, "they're useful. We don't need them."

Lensless held up a middle finger to Markus. Scars followed suit.

Seb raised his hand to speak like he was back in high school. He was given a nod of approval. "Uh, yeah this has been cool and all but I'm actually not that useful and would really like to go home. You guys can have (Y/n), I'm like, cool." You were a friend and an amazing fuck and all- but all of this was getting too complicated and messed up for Seb's taste. All he wanted to do was go visit Rex's grave, lay down and cry for a few hours. Pour his heart out to the cool unfeeling grass about another friend lost.

Mohawk shut him up with a look. "Do you want to work for me or die?" It was a bluff, of course it was, he needed all the manpower he could get.

Seb who liked living said, "I get the memo, boss."

"Do you?" Mohawk's words were an invitation to get on his knees and swear subjugation.

Seb only did because he didn't want to die. Soon as it was done he was back in his seat.

Markus got right back to arguing. "So you're just floating in the wind? Throwing (Y/n) at your problems hoping she'll fix them?" Problems being Scars and Lensless being used as soldiers.

"The plan is whatever I decide it to be." Mohawk said because he honestly had no fucking clue. He'd just gotten back and the few slips of information Kregg had given him were already starting to overwhelm him with the amount of work that'd need to be done.

Markus's eye twitched. "So you don't have one?"

Mohawk rolled his eyes. No matter where the conversation went Markus always brought it back to you and your safety. Honestly, he did too but only in his head. Such affections said out loud were a clear sign of weakness and stupidity.

"Who's the Emperor here?"

Markus was quiet a moment but Mohawk waited, waited, then waited some more. "You are." Markus finally relented.

"That's right. As Emperor I choose who sees her, when and how long, or if at all. Maybe think about how you talk to me if you ever want to see her again."

Markus narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

Mohawk easily shrugged, "I would. I mean, you haven't sworn fealty yet. How can I trust you?"

Markus didn't hesitate like Scars had. He was out of his chair and kneeling at Mohawk's boots in the next second. Meaning none of it but knowing he had to sell it if he wanted to be by your side again. He didn't know about returning to his home dimension, where everything was all wrong and holding the shadow of the dead you at every corner- but he did know he wanted you, alive.

He stood quickly and opened his mouth to argue some more.

Kregg spoke first. "We don't have time to talk about the doling out of a human's attention." He swallowed thick when Mohawk cut him with a glare. "Apologies, Emperor, it's just that in your time away we've lost critical planets in the western quadrant of the galaxy. We need to reclaim them at once." He held his tongue about wasting time with humans. That's only piss the Emperor off and make him a hypocrite. He had plenty of children waiting for him on Earth with mothers he cared for but still- the empire always came first.

Mohawk gave Markus one last sneer before turning to his seat. He sat, spread-legged as before. "Fine. Pull up the map."

"Of course but sir, as General, I'd first like to know what these versions of you are willing and capable of doing for the empire."

Mohawk was a little annoyed Kregg'd been so insolent today but he was also in a forgiving mood being freed from the desert. So he started with eyes set on Scars, "A few of them almost match me in strength but," to Lensless now, "lack intelligence and strategy. Though I'm sure with the right incentives they'll learn." To Seb, "Some of them will need more training than others to catch up," to Markus, "some will not. Overall, they'll do anything I want long as I let them have pussy."

Kregg withheld a cringe. "Understood." He pressed his fingers into the table, pulling up a hologram of the western side of the galaxy.

The debrief went a little something like this: Multiple trade planets had been reclaimed by or were in communication with the Coalition of Planets. None of them with big or notable populations- what was notable was their resources. One was a large planet mostly known for its farms and accelerated growth times due to the compounds in the soil and air. They'd been the main supplier of many food staples for the empire and the planets they controlled without enough to go around. The Coalition of Planets had compromised the shipping routes, then reached out to these lesser planets, offering food and protection and some of them had taken the offer. Defecting against the greatest empire in the galaxy for a bite to eat.

There were other planets with minor uprisings happening. Some were quelled but there weren't enough that the soldiers out in deep space couldn't catch them all- not before The Coalition of Planets swept in and took them to some hidden safe planet. Overall, the empire still gripped the galaxy, but that grip had started to loosen. They hadn't had losses like this in centuries. It was up to Mohawk to tighten this grip as soon as possible before the Coalition tore it wide open.

"I say, we leave Earth's orbit now. Head right for the western sect."

Mohawk opened his mouth to agree but his stomach churned. In his time since returning, he'd eaten but not enough. He needed a proper feast with all his favorite foods and you sat on his lap like old times. Much as he kind of hated the other Marks, they'd helped him survive, they all deserved a party- he deserved a party. He couldn't have meat lovers pizza on Mars, so he said, "There's some things I need you to pick up before to leave orbit." Because the empire wouldn't get that much weaker over the course of forty-five minutes. "In the meantime, I want the tailors to make them some new uniforms." Because the Marks had all been given various of his own hand-me-downs and they looked too similar- even with his hair distinguishing them all- he didn't want any of the fuckers to get any ideas.

Kregg nodded. "Right away."

***

Gray could see you were lost in memory, piled high with dead bugs and deader Mark's. He placed his hand atop your own, "It wasn't all bad though." You blinked and returned to him, to see the pink of his cheeks at the lightest implication of your relations. "Even if you were trying to use me, it was pleasant." He added matter-a-factly.

You don't think he means it as a jab, but you frown at the implication, that it was wrong when you had nothing else, "Can you blame me?"

"Of course not. I admired your..." Lips on my cock. "Willingness to do what it takes to survive."

You had to have been survival oriented to live though Machine Head's bullshit, then Mark's complete mental breakdown in the caves and- Don't think about that. That doesn't matter anymore. He's dead, you're not. It was his own fault. "It worked, I guess. Until that last part where I almost died. Thanks for that, again."

"I just wish I could've killed him, but I understand why as Emperor, it could be a good idea to keep them alive."

Your eyes go wide. "They're alive?" You'd just assumed with everything being so safe and calm that those assholes were dead. Killed by Markus or Mohawk or whoever for being insane freaks. You can't imagine them working for or with anybody but each other.

"They are but," something flickered in Gray's honeyed gaze then, "you just might be able to convince the Emperor to rid of them. You can be quite persuasive."

Your mild terror shifted into something else. It hadn't been a jab, he seemed to like the idea of you using sex as a bargaining chip. Of course the soldier in him would find utility hot. You ghosted your nails over his arm, playing coy in the same way he was. "What makes you say that?" It was so easy to slip into sexual innuendo. So easy not to think about all the horrible shit you'd went through when you were touching him.

If Gray notices your flirting, the only acknowledgement he gives is his eyes returning to yours. He was getting more used to your touch, to masking his emotions when it came to you. "You have more sway than you realize. When you... touched me I-" Maybe not as good at masking it as he thought. He couldn't make himself finish, your fingers moving up and down his arm too distracting.

You shoot up, looking back and forth. "Shit. Maybe don't say that out loud."

"Why?" Were you embarrassed? Did you not want him to return the favor?

"It's a hospital. They gotta have cameras with microphones or some shit."

Gray nodded, again impressed by your practicality when he had been lost in you, "The Emperor's personal medbay is less likely to have cameras. He's in the best position to ask for privacy and get it."

"Yeah, sure, whatever, but he's also a freak." You say.

Gray wouldn't disagree but, "I thought you were on better terms."

You look at him like he'd grown two heads, "He literally just kidnapped me and took me and you to wherever the fuck this is."

If Angstrom had opened his portal first, Gray would've taken you too. Mohawk made the right move, especially after you moaned for him like that. He'd have taken you, just for the chance to hear you do the same for him.

He must've said some part of that out loud because you say, "Were you jealous before or something?"

He flushed with embarrassment but said even as he could. "Jealous? No." He was envious of what Mohawk got to do to you, that was all, because the semantics mattered to him. "I wouldn't do anything like that in front of a prisoner."

Your laughing at him isn't mean or chiding- it's low, stirs something in his recently rearranged guts. "You've never done anything like that in front of anyone I'm pretty sure." He hadn't said he was a virgin but you could tell by how he acted before you sucked him off. All confusion and solid misunderstanding.

Gray knows this is a bad idea. Knows there could be cameras or someone walking in any second but he also didn't know the next time you'd be this close to him. Alone and clearly wanting.

"Only you." He said, moving his hand to your thigh with blood rushing in his ears.

Part of him expects immediate, angry rejection. Your human sentiments wouldn't stand for this. Except you shift, move your leg over his, exposing your flesh to him from under that loose hospital gown. Your hand moved over the bare skin of his chest. Feeling across his hard muscle, untouched from weeks of starvation filled in by bouts of cannibalism.

Your splayed hand went from between his pecs, down slow to the muscles above his belly that seemed to tighten at your touch. His breath caught, heart sputtered, hand squeezed unconsciously at your thigh. He's putty soft in your hands. If you wanted a confession of jealousy, you could get it. You could get just about anything out of him right now. And right now you needed this.

You shifted, hiking your body slightly more onto his, inching your face into his orbit. He doesn't need instructions to kiss you this time. He remembers the steps of this dance, thought about it more often than he should have in a survival situation. Your lips still held that sandpapery grit from the desert though it'd been softened. Your breath freshened. That was nice, yes, but you liked his new found bravery. This time when he kissed you, his hands gently explored over your body. Tracing, prodding, testing, knowing it was the right thing to do but not knowing the right place to touch. He knew he had a good thing going when you sighed contented into his mouth, his hand set on your lower back, pressing you further into him.

You stayed like that awhile. Lost in eachother. Ignoring Phantom in the goo chamber, ignoring the door that could open any second. Your mind was slowly being wiped, one twist of the lips at a time. While Gray's mind raced with his heart, wondering how much more of this he could take before he combusted into flames.

It all came to a stop when you pulled away, forehead resting on his. Your breath wafting over his buzzing lips. "Pretty sure you were jealous." You laugh against him.

"Envious." He says.

Your brows rose teasingly. "Same thing." He couldn't defend himself, not against you and your attacks that melt him so.

Under his skirt, his cock pressed with gentle instance against your thigh. You'd noticed its rise while you kissed but paid it no mind, letting him slowly go mad in the confines of his mind but now you shifted your leg and looked to the bulge.

"Can I make it up to you?" Your hand travels lower but never crests over the hill.

Gray's hips involuntary shuddered up for friction that wasn't there. "You don't have to." But he wanted you to so, so, badly.

"Mm," you watch his face soften as your fingers get closer and closer to his clothed heat, "What if I want to thank you for saving my life? How about that?"

He opened his mouth to respond but the words are lost as your fingers trace up his length. Even through the layers of clothes, a near violent pulse of pleasure tenses his whole body. He sounds very un-solider like when he whines out a, "I'd... appreciate the gesture."

"Nice dirty talk."

"I don't see what dirt has to do with anyth-hhhngg." Gray could handle surveillance, had been under it most of his life in Viltrum but he hoped to God there was none in this room. That no Viltrumite would ever hear the pathetic sound he'd just made when you grabbed at his dick through his clothes.

You'd already started to unravel him but suddenly he found himself entirely unspooled. Your hand squeezing, teasing him through the fabric. You watching his face go pink and contorted in agonized bliss.

You pawed at him. Feeling his grip on your back tighten and loosen. Feeling the control he imparted over himself even now. You smiled up at him like tearing him apart was a favorite pastime. "You doing good, tough guy?"

He only nodded. Convinced if he opened his mouth only pathetic mewls would come out. You huffed a laugh as you shifted his skirt aside and pull apart the magnetic fly. You'd remembered. Had you thought about your encounter much as he had? Committed it to burning memory?

His thoughts are flushed down the drain when you hand made contact with his bare cock. Working his slick precum down his shaft easily as you had the first time. Deciding your hand wasn't lubricated enough, you brought your palm to your face. Catching him by the eye as you rolled your tongue up your skin. Tasting him and wetting your flesh.

Gray could've came right there but he steeled himself. Anxiously waiting for your hand upon his cock again. He didn't have to wait long before your hand was working him base to tip. Sliding in the slick of your spit, making him remember the tight feel of your throat.

He gasped, whimpered, arched his back, chased after your lips with his. Every point of contact between you hot as a burning flame. The knot low in his stomach tightened, he knew he was close. You knew it too. You shifted upright, went to kneel over him and take him into your mouth but his wispy voice stopped you. "Wait."

You paused, "Do you not want to-"

"I do. I do just," his neck worked as he swallowed shame, "Can you uhm- I want-" He didn't even know how to say it. Of course he knew what sex was, how it occurred but the actual action happening to him was so foreign, he didn't know how to phrase the request.

You smirked down at him. You shifted, swinging one leg over his hips and settling down, sat on his lap. Hospital gown riding high on your thighs, his aching cock twitching against the fabric. "You want this?" You ask low.

"Yes." He said fast. Hands going to either side of your thighs on instinct. His face burning.

"You really were jealous of him, huh?" You can feel the power in your hands. Better than anything that come out your throat. He was utterly at your beck and call. You pulled up the gown, exposing your bare cunt. Maybe you'd have some coverage in a human hospital but not in a Viltrumite medbay. You pushed down the feeling of violation- they'd done what they had to, you were sure nothing nefarious was done to your body. Hopefully.

Gray moved his head, trying to look around his own erect cock to look at you. You laugh at his efforts and stop him from peeping with a roll of your hips. Grinding yourself skin to skin against him. His eyes roll back and mouth twitched open. He was too easy. You staid like that some time, grinding yourself on the veiny bottom of his cock until he gasped, "Please. Please, I can't." He doesn't know the next thing to say. Can't what? Can't take it? Can't not be inside you?

You get his memo well enough and rise on your haunches. His eyes are screwed shut as he feels you glide up him, lips gently sliding open at his head.

"Look at me." Your cool voice coaxed his eyes open to finally see the bare of your cunt. Slick and unshaven from months in the desert. He watched as you guide him inside your pussy, which sucks him in with welcoming heat. He fights the urge to roll his eyes back fights to watch you settle down upon him until all he can see is a sliver of you. Stretched out around him, clit pressing to his pelvis.

Inside you, he is utterly filling. Cock just the right amount of bent to press a sweet kiss to your g-spot. You don't move just yet, checking in with him as he looks to be fighting off a nasty fever. "You alright?"

Fingers twitch on your hips. "Yes." He gasped, already heaving though you'd yet to get started.

You moved, barely at first, a simple roll of your hips to watch what he'd do. His chest rises, breath hitching as his cock slides against your soft flesh. You worked slow, rocking on him, watching how he reacted, giving soft praises, "You're doing so good," as you rode him. But it's not enough to see him whimper. After the shit you'd been through, you needed to feel better than good, to take pleasure for your own, to be your best self you needed to make him cry. That's when you started moving with your knees, working your cunt up and down his sensitive length.

Gray sputtered and gasped. Eyes always on the move, from the point of connection between your bodies to your bouncing chest beneath the hospital gown. He struggled to keep his consciousness in himself not entirely believing this was happening to him. That he could ever feel so good.

He felt himself truly ebbing towards climax and for the first time in the encounter. He took some control by pressing you to sit fully sheathed and still on his lap. "S-slow down. I'm..." Again he was at a strange loss for words. And with the way you were looking down at him, rabid, hungry, it was hard to find the right ones. "I want you to... first." He needed to feel what it felt like- you cumming on his cock. Knew the second that happened he'd be done for, he was barely hanging on as it was.

"Oh?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No." You chuckle and grab at one of his wrists, bringing his shaky hand down to the center of you. "But if you want that to happen, you gotta help me out." You bring his index and ring down to press upon your clit. Hand behind his guiding his fingers in languid circles, teaching him the right pressure to apply, the right ways to roll his fingerpads. It took a while until you could start moving again, but when you did it felt amazing.

He didn't know if he could keep his promise of wanting you to cum first- when he rubbed at you, your cunt clamped around him. Making it hard to think about anything else than cumming. He fought it off, hard, as your head lolled back and you let loose a moan into the ceiling. His fingers moved on their own now as your hips stuttered. Your own hands twitched on his chest, nails digging to skin as he goaded you closer.

"Look at me." He breathed.

You brought your head down, eyes glassy, cheeks dark, looking like an angel. Your thighs twitched and squeezed as you looked into his eyes. Hips stuttering as you came closer and closer to peak.

So far, you'd both managed to be rather quiet in your gentle lovemaking but you couldn't help a shout when you felt it coming. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Not a moment after the explication Gray felt you tighten and squeeze around him. Your very insides begged for his release and you got it. Cum almost violently shot from him with a guttural growl and filled your twitching walls. You whimpered at the feeling, still coming undone as he watched. The seconds like hours happily spent.

When all the moaning and shuddering was done. You came back to yourself, still on him and his softening length.

"Still jealous?" You asked.

"No." He smiled.

Gray was a practical man. He knew more sex might damage your fragile human body. He could tell your knees had started to ache. But when you lifted off him and he saw his seed leak down your thighs? He wanted to go again. But he stopped himself for your sake, using his discarded sheets to clean you both before you tucked yourselves away. If he was lucky, he'd have you again and again and again. He hoped you'd want that too.

You wound up laying contentedly against his side. Gone soft and happy for a few moments before you eyes rolled over to Phantom in the goo chamber. Again you'd forgotten his presence. Good thing, this time he wasn't awake to see it. Like yeah, the guy deserved to suffer but that felt like overkill.

You asked Gray absently about what was going to happen. He retold what he already knew, which wasn't much. You'd both find out together, whenever the others came. But for now, you were alone together.

You were nearly asleep, head propped on his chest, when the door opened.

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lin-lizzie · 22 days ago

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Lizzie’s back with OPM pride headcanons because god damn I come back every year feeling more cringe from the last one also dear lord have my opinions changed and how OOC those must have been

Anyways! Skipping S-Class because thats how I roll :] everything's under the cut bc its kinda long... oopsies

A-Class

Amai: he doesn’t get any labels at the moment due to whatever the hell is happening to him however I do wanna place him on the aromantic spectrum

Iaian: unlabeled, unsure. he does not think. (about relationships at least) and probably doesn’t pick up on flirting until like… right after it happened. confusion. he probably thought about it ONCE though and was like “surely I like women…. Right?” And realized he’s found no woman he’s had interest in in terms of romance/love, and Kama doesn’t count because she’s more sisterly. Probably somewhere on Demi or aroace

Okamaitachi: canonically trans, hello? While I’m pretty sure the manga points her towards being a mostly men liker can you blame me for wanting to say she’s bi leaning towards men

Bushidrill: cishet ally-ish, still confused but Kama’s helping

Heavy Tank Loincloth: his macho-ness makes people believe he may be gay. Is he? We will never know

Blue Fire: same as Iaian in the sense he never thinks about it but all because he’s too busy focused on justice

Death Gatling: aromantic… will deny that he’s more into men than women. but unfortunately he is

Stinger: I’m stuck between bi w a preference for women or pan as he seems like he truly does not gaf

Magic Trick Man: ace, still determining other labels

Twin Tail: aroace genderqueer dear lord look at her. maybe sapphic, I don’t see her being into men really

Lightning Genji: aroace, contemplated demi-boy or non-binary once but decided “I don’t care enough, I’ll stick with guy.” But would like to experiment with they/them or they/he

Lightning Max: bi w preference for women, I see people saying trans Max and honestly… hell yeah.

One Shotter: that is the most homosexual man I’ve ever seen in One Punch Man and I don’t know if that’s saying a lot considering. Well. Let’s look at the series were talking about

Green: no people. plants :]

Crescent Eyebroll: straight, but has experimented with a man before as he believed you should try everything once! It wasn’t un-enjoyable, but believes it’s not for him

Golden Ball: I’m going to need you to look me in the eyes and ask does he NOT have something going on with Spring Mustachio?

Smile Man: •_•

Spring Mustachio: Golden Ball.

Narcisstoic: women liker but he’s so into getting others to be elegant and all that it can’t help but make you wonder if he might like guys too

Forte: was one of those kids who made fun of gay people while also doing gay shit. Turned out to be bi

Shadow Ring: sapphic… leaning towards nb or demi-girl……. Fem presenting….

Feather: another Stinger situation but I’m more so leaning towards bi w preference for women

Chain’n’Toad: women liker

Sneck: bi w a preference for women only because he forgets he can look for guys too

B-Class

Eyelashes: bi bi bi

Mad Devil Yankee: leaning towards pan or gay but either hasn’t discovered it yet or hiding deep in the closet

Glasses: women liker, might have had a thing for one or two guys in the HA though

Double Hole: another women liker

Gun Gun: women liker but sometimes he says shit that makes you wonder if he experimented with guys before or secretly is bi

Jet Nice Guy: pan

Needle Star: bi with preference for men

Crying Man: •_•

Captain Mizuki: bi with preference for women

Lily of the Three Section Staff: 14 year old who just discovered she’s a lesbian

Bone: I'm only assigning him ace because milk

Tanktop Black Hole: cishet

Shooter: women liker

Darkness Blade: PAN. I want to say transmasc too bc funny...

Pineapple: women liker

C-Class

Mumen Rider: pan!

Monster Roper Shell: pan.

Tanktop Tiger: cishet

D-Pad: pan

Funeral Suspenders: women liker but recently discovered he might be into men too

Food Battler Futoshi: pan

Red Muffler: women liker

Gearsper: I am throwing a pan at him

Gasmask Cowboy: bi. That’s a cowboy

Angry Man: •_•

Horse-Bone: what is Bojack Horseman

Studless: women liker

Poison: bi w preference for men

Hyottoko: women liker

Red Nose: cishet.

Mohican: men liker, who was in denial at first

okay yeah that’s it thank you for your time and feel free to debate or hunt me down like a witch. Happy Pride Month!

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freakbabyy · 9 months ago

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Deception Chapter One

taglist: @tulipbite @rcarbo1

A/N: it's finally here teehee (as if i dont have ten chapters written out rn)

Word Count: 4091

Mood board | Prologue

“Alright ladies, form a single file line! When you get to the front of the line, you will present your letter of conscription. After you do that, you’ll be told what dorm room you’re staying in for the next six months,” The soldier up front’s grin widened even more at the next sentiment. “That is, if you survive them.”

The front of the line had about five different soldiers already in full uniform, each with a new recruit going over their paperwork. The line went surprisingly fast, until I was next. Taking a deep breath in and out, I tried my best to adjust the cloth around my breasts. I had tightened too much this morning, apparently.

“Next.” I stepped forward, handing Finn’s - my letter to the mustachioed guard, and he ran his eyes over for a few seconds before placing it in the pile on the table, and instead handing me a key. “All set, Ambrose. Dorm five, bed three.”

I nodded, hiking my backpack up higher on my shoulders before stalking towards the dorms, which were actually just shacks. Each had clearly seen better days, most were ragged from the weather. Most likely from the brutal winters we would get.

Walking up the steps to the fifth cabin, I opened the door that was already cracked and closed it behind me. A few others had already been in the cabin, and it looks as if there were three sets of bunk beds. Each had a trunk beside and in front of it. I opted to take the top bunk since there was already someone's stuff on the bottom one, and put my bag down on top of the trunk beside it.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing a bunk,” I twisted my head to look at the guy on the other side of the bed, apparently already putting stuff into his trunk. He stuck his hand out, and I really took in his features. “Alaric Godfrey.”

Short black hair, cut down to nearly his scalp, with striking green eyes the color of grass in the summertime. He had round glasses on as well. He reminded me of a hawk with the way he was staring at me.

“Finnigan Ambrose,” I shook his hand, nodding once firmly. “And it looks like you’d be correct.”

“You’re alright with the top bunk, right? If not, we can switch.”

“Yeah, top bunk’s fine. Thanks.” I turned around, starting to unpack my bag as well, folding my clothes into the trunk. “Where’re you from?”

“Riodum. It’s by Spring.” I had heard of it, it was a big trade village. “What about you?”

“Mifflin. It’s by Winter.”

“I know it, the main road goes through it, right?” I nodded, “Clearly we’re both a long way from home.”

Before I could come up with an answer, the front door had opened and a soldier walked in. Or rather, maybe another recruit based on the plain clothes. “General wants everyone in the training grounds by nine.”

“Are we training already? We just got here,” Another guy in our cabin asked once the guy had left, probably off to tell the next shack.

“Doubt it. Probably just a ground tour, and to go over our schedule for the week.” Alaric spoke up, and the others agreed, before we all started making our ways outside. Better early than being late.

The training grounds were right beside the cabins, just a few meters away. Most everyone was already here it seemed, probably having the same sentiment I had earlier about being early. A whistle sounded up front, which halted everyones conversations. A few men were up front, all wore signature red hair and spotless fine clothes. Vanserra’s.

“You all already probably know us, or at least have heard of us. If not, then you’re already at a disadvantage. This is my brother Leo, he’ll be teaching you strategy every other day in the afternoons starting tomorrow.” He gestured to the shorter brother, slightly wavy hair pulled back with a single hair tie. “My other brother, Eris, is the general of the armies, you’ll rarely train with him. However if you make it past week ten, you’ll see a lot more of him.”

“I’m Magnus, I’m in charge of training you lot; so don’t make me look bad. You train with me everyday learning the basics starting at six in the morning sharp. I find out you are late, you run laps until your miserable legs give out. On days you do not train with Leo after lunch, you will be with me once more, learning weaponry. You all will be split into two, cabins one through fifteen you’re group one, cabins sixteen through thirty you’re group two. Schedules are posted weekly at the mess hall”

“The training grounds you’ve already found, congratulations.” Leo took up the rest of the speech they’ve no doubt practiced, “Mess hall is where you get your meals, breakfast starts at five, lunch at noon, and dinner at eight. That is when you’re dismissed from the night.”

He had pointed across from the cabins, to where a larger building was, with some tables and chairs outside, for if anyone chose to eat outside. Then he pointed to the furthest cabin, and on the other side of it was another, slightly larger cabin.

“That is the infirmary, I trust you’ll all find it at one point or another. If you don't, that means you aren’t training hard enough.” Turning back to us, he pointed at a large wooden sign on the side of the mess hall. “Speaking of training hard enough, everyday we put up new ranks during dinner. If you fall below the red line, you’re done. You get sent home, you can’t be called upon again to serve the high lord, and you will not be reimbursed for your time here. Ten people will be cut every week on the last day of the week.”

Murmurs took over the crowd, until another whistle made everyone stop their chattering. This time the general stepped up and spoke, when up until now he seemed bored; as if he had better things to do.

“If you have a problem with it, you can leave now. You aren’t at a ball, you’re training to be warriors. Highly skilled, trained warriors. Only 42 people will graduate, that is a promise. As you all know, those 42 will be split into groups, and each group gets an assignment for life.” He looked around, daring anyone to speak up, or even move. “Top squad gets to be assigned to the high lord. You work as sentries for his residence. Next squad gets to be captains for the warriors on the battlefield. Then it’s patrol duty, one to the north, south, west, and east. The most sought after position is traveling duty. You travel throughout Prythian on business for the king.”

You could hear a pin drop after that speech. Sure, it was common knowledge that not everyone who got conscripted finished training to be a part of the guard, but was it needed to be so harsh? You’d think the more guards the better, so why would they cut down on soldiers? It didn’t make sense. Men were stupid.

“Dismissed,” Magnus called out, as the crowd dispersed. “Don’t forget about training tomorrow.”

This was going to be a long next few months.

—

“Rise and shine, newbies!” A voice broke the peaceful morning air, along with a harsh knock on the door. Magnus. “Breakfast in ten!”

Groaning, I rolled out of bed, stretching my back from the hard mattress, and grabbing a few things from my trunk before rushing to the bathroom, which was the only other room in the cabin. I pulled off my night clothes before putting on the cloth wrap, making sure it was a bit looser than before, and putting on the rest of my clothes for today.

Exiting the bathroom, it was immediately taken by the guy who sleeps in the bunk beside me, I think his name was Bard? Either way, everyone else was already getting dressed, and I had to avert my gaze as I tried to cool my face down. Clearly I would have seen a few cocks, bunking with five males, but everytime they got dressed, did they have to practically wave them around?

I wasn’t a virgin by any means, being three hundred years old, but that didn’t mean my face didn’t still heat up from the sight. Tossing my sleep clothes into my trunk along with my toothbrush, I brushed through my hair with my comb before tying it up with a band Alaric had offered me.

“I’m not used to shorter hair.” I gestured to the tied up hair, which was already falling from its restraints. “I cut it before training.”

“Same here. I think most of us did, except for Bard over there.” Alaric nodded towards the male who was now braiding his hair back, quite well in fact. I could never do it that well, wasn’t sure my youngest sister could either, and she loved braids.

“What about me?” The ginger with a partially done french braid turned, raising a pointed brow. “Hopefully nothing bad.”

“Not at all,” I waved off, offering a band from the bag Alaric had, to which he said thanks. “We were just saying how it seems everyone cut their hair before coming here; aside from you.”

“Ah, this?” Bard laughed, as if it was the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “I did cut my hair as well, it was a lot longer. Turns out training has rules, no hair below the waist. Something about the professionalism of guards and recruits.”

“How long was your hair, then?” Alaric questioned, all three of us making our way to the mess hall, shivering a bit at the cold frost from the crisp spring morning.

“Oh, about down to my knees if it was down. My mother never had a daughter, she always loved braiding my hair, so I let her. Therefore, I never cut it. Not in my four hundred years.” Bard shrugged, grabbing a plate and looking for a seat. “Mind if I stick with you two?”

“I don’t mind.” I replied, grabbing a plate as well, questioning what exactly was in the bowl in front of me.

“I’ll never deny a potential friend. I’m Alaric Godfrey, that’s Finnigan Ambrose.” Alaric shook his hand, as I did the same.

“Bard Tomas,” We all sat down at a table, as another voice spoke from beside us,

“Did I hear your last name is Ambrose?” The male a few seats down questioned, scooting to sit across from Alaric and I. “Which one of you’s Ambrose?”

Bard sipped his tea, raising his eyebrows in question at the new presence; A brown haired male, with curls so tight they seemed to bounce everytime he moved. His eyes however, were the color of robin's eggs.

“I’m Finnigan Ambrose, yes. Do I know you?” I prayed to the cauldron this wasn’t one of Finn’s friends, or else I’ve already outed myself day one.

“No, not at all. Though I knew your father, well, knew of him. My father was in his squad actually, they used to be friends from what he spoke of. Is it true your father used to knock people out with a single touch?” He seemed to be rambling, so fast in fact I barely got what he was saying.

“Yeah, he um - he studied pressure points in the Day court when he was a child. He grew up there, afterall. But certain spots on the body, if pressure is applied there, you’re knocked out like a light.” I explained, shoveling a bit of the gruel into my mouth, before speaking around it. “I didn’t quite catch your name, or your dads name; maybe I’ve heard of him?”

“Jasper Jesper, and my fathers name is Niander Jesper.” He took a bite of his own gruel, nearly gagging at the taste, “Sorry, does your gruel also taste like the underside of a rock?”

“Unfortunately,” Bard spoke up, introducing himself. “I’m sorry, your parents named you Jasper Jesper?”

“Unfortunately,” Jasper copied his earlier reply, “You should hear my full name, it’s much worse.”

“I doubt that.” Alaric spoke up, raising a brow.

“Jasper Jaxson-Julian Jesper.” Alaric’s tea spewed from his nose, as he began coughing.

“There’s no fucking way,” Bard cackled, “Why would your parents curse you with such a tongue-twister name?”

“Honestly? I ask them that everyday.” Jasper laughed, “They say they liked the rhyme scheme. All of my siblings have the same curse. My sister’s name is Josephine Juliet-Jane Jesper.”

“As silly as it is, my parents also liked the rhyming thing,” I offered, finding it a bit endearing. “I have a pair of siblings, twins, Dorian and Florian. Then I have a twin sister named Winifred, they call us Winn and Finn.”

“My parents call me JJ, but my sister's nickname is just Jo.” Jasper added, just as chairs started scraping against the floor, signaling time to go to training.

“You guys wanna stick together? We can all practice together, that way when we have to spar we won’t get random people.” Alaric questioned, all of us agreeing.

“I was just about to suggest the same thing,” Bard smirked, “No one likes being the loner at school.”

The training grounds were empty, aside from the recruits and Magnus. The sun was barely breaking the horizon, frost still coated the ground. I had wished I wore long sleeves, as did everyone else most likely.

“Good morning, recruits. Wish I could say it’s a pleasure seeing you all this early, but I haven’t had my morning cup of tea yet.” Magnus walked back and forth, taking in everyone one by one. “Today we’re testing. Everyone will do different tests, and I’ll be recording your times. We’ll check in the first of each month, to see strength improvements. First up, is running.”

At a snap of his fingers, a flag appeared in the dewy grass, flowing slightly in the breeze.

“You’ll all begin at this flag, I’ll record everyone's times as they pass. My second in command, Aslan, has some of his guards stationed around the path, so we’ll know if you use magic in any way. Which will result in immediate termination, by the way.” Magnus stood to the side of the flag, a servant holding a tray of tea beside him. “Follow the flags, they’ll lead you through the forest path you’ll be jogging down.”

He graciously took the cup of tea offered by the servant, and took a long sip. He sighed in content, before looking at all of us once more.

“What are you waiting for?” He took another sip of his tea before pointing to the air, and firing a ball of, well, fire. “Go.”

My legs went into action before my mind did, and I was yanked back by Alaric, who also grabbed Bard, who grabbed JJ.

“Jog, don’t sprint. You’ll run out of energy faster sprinting. Jogging you’ll conserve it for the entire run. Plus, the more we build stamina, the more endurance we build, the faster we can jog later on.” Alaric nodded towards those who were sprinting, already through the forest bend. “If you sprint, you’re gonna end up in the back by the end of it.”

“That makes sense,” JJ panted, out of breath already; although I couldn’t judge - I was too. “Take it slower, outlast the others. I like it.”

“Good thing we have a strategist in our little group.” Bard gasped, clutching his side. “I shouldn’t have skipped physical activity in school. Or outside of school.”

“Same,” I agreed, feeling the same pang in my ribcage. “Who does this for fun?”

“Psychopaths.” Alaric scanned the area, sweating through his shirt already.

About a half hour later, they were still steady in their jog. All of them were covered in sweat, gasping for the cold morning air. They’ve passed nearly half of the people who started the run off sprinting; proving Alaric’s point.

“Halfway, recruits! Hustle, people, Hustle!” An important looking guy with a clipboard shouted encouragement, he must have been the second in command, Aslan. His hair was blonde, speckled with grey hair. “Come on Ambrose, Jesper, I expected more from you! Let's go!”

“Cauldron, that was unnerving.” JJ puffed out, as I nodded, agreeing. Why did he look familiar?

“I might just drop out,” Bard groaned, stopping off to the side, as we did the same, to wait for him. “You guys don’t have to wait for me.”

“We’re friends, we established this earlier, we stick together.” Alaric panted, his hands on his knees. “Just - take a deep breath or something.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Muscles, I didn’t think of that!” Bard glared at Alaric, as he held his hands up. “Okay - Okay I’m good. If I don’t go now I won’t get back up.”

Once more we took off jogging, this time a tad slower. My feet ached, my legs burned, and I swear I could feel the cloth binding my breasts chafing. Not to mention the angle of the sun now burned my eyes.

“Why did you guys get conscripted,” JJ asked, nearly wheezing.

“What do you mean?” Pushing my hair out of my face again, I looked at JJ for a second, before turning my head back forward, not wanting to trip on a branch on the ground. “It’s randomly selected, to be conscripted.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t regular conscription.” Alaric answered, “This is the conscription for the royal guard, we’d protect the high lord and his family, the ‘traveling’ position even more.”

“Why’d you put air quotes around traveling?” Bard spoke up, brows furrowed.

“Because the traveling position isn’t a traveling guard, it’s strategy - spycraft. It’s why we all get background checks and intense training.” He motioned to all of us, “No one gets to train here without being picked for a reason.”

“Ambrose and I were chosen from our parents, I’d bet. I applied a few times as well.” JJ answered, wiping his face with his tunic.

“I didn’t apply. I didn’t even want to be conscripted.” I nearly growled out, “I was supposed to be taking care of my sick mother, when those guys showed up. Told my sisters if I didn’t show up I’d have my family executed.”

“That’s…” Bard started, “Dark. Unusual as well, usually they’d take no for an answer and move onto the next person who made the list. That’s how I’m here; someone changed their mind. I wasn’t accepted until a few days ago.”

“I always wanted to be a spy, my mother was a spy before she died.” Alaric admitted, “I’m only here for that.”

“Then I guess we’re going to be spies,” Bard joked, “Friends stick together, right?”

“I’m in,” I went along, smiling wide, wetting my lips before wrinkling my nose at the taste of the sweat beaded there. “I always enjoyed sneaking around, playing hide and seek with my siblings.”

“Then I suppose I’m in, too.” JJ shrugged, “I don’t see myself as a captain in the army anyway.”

The last flag was just in sight, it was where we started. We must have gone in a large circle around the entire property. About twenty people were sitting in the grass at the finish already, and Magnus shouted our times as we crossed the threshold.

“Ambrose, 96 minutes!”

“Shit,” I cursed as my legs gave out in the grass off to the side. “I’m so glad that’s over.”

Thankfully they had about fifteen minutes to recuperate before the last person finished and Magnus spoke again.

“Alright ladies, now that the warm ups are done,” A series of groans overtook the courtyard. “Onto strength tests. Get into a block, fifteen lines, and when they get full go behind the person in front of you. You’ll be in charge of writing down your scores. Get ready.”

Moving to follow instructions, I was in the middle, my new found friends beside me. The other soldiers present passed out a parchment paper, each soldier then was poised at the end of a line; presumably to stop any cheating.

“We’ll be doing sit ups. I will say when you all sit up and then lay back down. Do not go any slower or faster. If you cannot sit up anymore, you record the amount you completed, Any questions?” Bored eyes scanned the rows of recruits, daring anyone to even question him. “Positions. 3…2… Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.”

I had gotten to sit up number 43 before I felt a stomach cramp, and swore softly - writing down the number on the paper before sitting up and looking around. Nearly everyone was still in. I had to push myself in the upcoming tests if I wanted to stay and earn money for my family.

“89 sit ups - Jeremiah Bayard. Next up planks. Everyone must stay in position, no bending the knees, and you must stay level. Each guard on the row will shout the exact second he sees one of you fall or give up, you’ll write down the exact time he says,” Sipping on more of his tea, or perhaps coffee now, he pulled out a stopwatch, as did the guards around us. “3…2… Begin.”

The first few seconds weren”t so bad. After second thirty my limbs began to burn. Was I really this out of shape? It didn’t matter, I had to fight it, I had to keep going. Not for me - but for them. I had to do my part to help my mother; I had no other choice. If I failed at this, how could I even begin to try and help her? What would it say of my character - of who I am?

I had to block it out. I had to block all of my thoughts, even those of my family - I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t. Just think of nothing, of the grass below my fingers. The sun beating down on my back. The slight breeze that blew my tunic hanging off of me.

“Finnigan Ambrose, three minutes twenty two seconds,” I cursed, falling flat on the grass for the second time this morning. However, when I looked around I saw that everyone else was done. “Next up are push ups. You know the drill. Positions - 3…2…Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.”

Falling flat for the third time, and this time spitting out grass - I got to twelve push ups. Twelve. I was not out first this time, though. Bard was. He caught my eye and shrugged then held up two fingers. He had done two push ups.

“Alright, this time, each line is going to follow the leader to one of the fifteen soldiers in front of me, they will use a stopwatch to count how long you can do the dead-hand. You will hang onto these bars, dangling until your arms give out.”

Thankfully I had loved climbing trees as a child, so hopefully I wouldn’t be the worst at these. Though my arm strength with push ups wasn’t good - hopefully it was a fluke. Nope, not a fluke. I didn’t last a minute, I immediately fell off of the pole, and looked in shock. I was going to be sent home.

“Dinner time. That means you sorry lot are done for the day. We’ll tally up your scores and post them by the time dinner’s over. Good luck.”

“Shit-” JJ was the first to speak, finding the group of us already sitting at the same table as this morning. “Did we get lunch? I can’t remember.”

“Nope, we got done with the run after lunchtime, those who finished after lunch time didn’t get lunch.” Alaric explained, nearly inhaling his stew.

“Not fair, how were we to perform to the best of our ability if we didn’t get lunch?” Bard complained, rubbing his arms.

“I don’t know, luck?” Everyone started getting up now, rushing towards the door. “Where’re they going?”

“Scores are up.” A passerby filled us in, and we stood too, putting our trays away first. It took awhile until we were able to read the board, and I went down the list starting at the top. Then the middle. Then the bottom.

“Shit.” I swore, my name was fifth last Rank 197. The only consolation was Bard was dead last. “I’m going to get sent home. The first week. This is embarrassing.”

“You said it, brother.” Bard groaned.

#acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris x reader

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activate-shadow-of-the-window · 1 year ago

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It is Tuesday, have a Mumbo! The mustachioed chief engineer and technomancer of Technicolor City, this plant-beloved faerie may have wrangled the Technicolor trolley system into working somewhat decently, but the one thing he can’t seem wrangle is his own magic. Leaves and sprouts spring up on any dirt he happens to sweat on, and Dragon forbid he cries on any seeds. There is still a rampant ivy problem in that part of town.

#hermitaday #hermit-a-day may #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #traditional art #horizon to horizon au #art for my fic

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badjohnspeakeasy · 2 years ago

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Times When Heroes Smacked Garou By Surprise

One of my favorite Meta Producers GoFancyNinjaWorld once mentioned that Garou was stupid to expect heroes not to attack by surprise.

It's a fight, not a game; a referee isn't going to scream BEGIN and wave a checkered flag.

You know who should have already been aware of this?

Garou.

His first time meeting an S-Class hero, he caught a watermelon-sized fisticuff by surprise.

That's probably why Tanktop Master beat so many Demon-level monsters in one hit; he wasn't stupid enough to let them brace themselves.

Moving on, when Garou fought Golden Ball, he nearly caught a bullet to the face.

Spring Mustachio didn't waste an instant announcing himself either; he immediately sprang into the fray from the blind-spot behind his partner, ruining Garou's cool shirt.

Even Garou's beloved sensei Silver Fang greeted him with a chin-check rather than a "hello" or a "stop right there, you fiend".

If you're gonna fight heroes, be prepared to face someone who fights gloriously dirty. When they're wise and functioning properly, they ain't gonna squander a second on flowery intros.

Pick a fight with an orator if you want a grand speech; don't fuck with heroes if you don't want to get sucker-kicked.

#one punch man #opm manga #manga edit #the hero handbook must say “run their pockets while they're standing there looking stupid”#fighting fair is for the birds #garou opm #rule 1 of being a hero; pretend evil is wearing a “kick me” sign and act accordingly

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gorimbaudandgojohnnygo · 25 days ago

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3 ring brain & a circus heart

step right up! st-ep riiight up!

ladies and gentlemen, boys and ghouls tramps, tricksters, and traingels prophets and poormen devils, lovers, and ghosts—

step right up and hear your ringmaster re-use the same tired metaphors! forgive her, folks, as she presents to you the ten-in-one tonight forgive her: she cannot help that she has a three-ring brain and a circus heart and it is from this circus heart that her ten-in-one springs!

first, she will present—not one— but three—snakecharmers watch them soothe the hissing serpents with the music from their flutes and horns watch that same music bring our ringmaster to her knees!

next, gaze in amazement as the mustachioed magician saws her heart in two!

tramps and tricksters, your complete attention is required!

see the fire-breathing tattooed lady whose beauty can still set our ringmaster aflame!

next, the iron boy, whose love is so heavy it could crush even the strongest strongman!

for your amusement— two clowns— one who rides freight trains and plays blues guitar, one who fiddles a mad reel! may they make you laugh while our ringmaster cries!

and how could we forget the fortune- teller girl, guaranteed to read your future in her cards... too bad she never told our ringmaster that they were destined to part ways!

last, but certainly not least... in the yellow circle of the final spotlight... stands a boy who is one-half of a pair of siamese twins! where is the other half, you ask? why...it is none other than the ringmaster and since the day the two of them were rent apart, she has never felt whole

boys and ghouls! hold your applause! we have one more amazement for you this evening our ringmaster, she truly is the master of rings for you see— she never gets divorced, never rides the carousel backward but wears all ten rings tight around her circus heart

—4/1/10

#gorimbaudandgojohnnygo #my writing #poetry #2010 #circus as metaphor #three ring brain and a circus heart #yeahhhh #i really have overused the circus/carnival thing over the years #but it’s okay because i got my book length poem out of it #and i’m still very proud of that

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lightning-squad · 4 months ago

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im begging someone PLEASE draw Spring Mustachio trying to bribe the nurses with coffee this is GOLD

thanks to whoever watched the stream, heres some screenshots

#one punch man world #spring mustachio

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rainee-da · 1 year ago

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🍀rainee's fandom list — this is the list of fandom i'm a part of & list of characters i'm willing to work with! (bolded means favorite!)

anime/manga series — character is listed in alphabetical order!

Mashle: Magic and Muscle ❥ Abbyss Razor / Abel Walker / Agito Tyrone / Carpaccio Luo-Yang / Cell War / Charles Contini / Delisaster / Domina Blowelive / Doom / Dott Barret / Epidem / Famin / Finn Ames / Galuf Gargaron / Kaldo Gehenna / Kenny Clark / Lance Crown / Lemon Irvine / Lévis Rosequartz / Love Cute / Lovie Rosequartz / Malcolm Curtis / Margarette Macaron / Mash Burnedead / Max Land / Milo Genius / Orter Madl / Rayne Ames / Renatus Revol / Shuen Getsuku / Sophina Biblia / Tsurara Halestone / Wirth Madl One-Punch Man ❥ Amai Mask / Atomic Samurai / Blue Fire / Captain Mizuki / Darkness Blade / Drive Knight / Eyelashes / Feather / Flashy Flash / Fubuki / Garou / Gearsper / Genos / Glasses / Golden Ball / Iaian / King / Lightning Max / Metal Bat / Mumen Rider / Mountain Ape / Needle Star / Okamaitachi / One Shotter / Poison / Saitama / Sekingar / Sneck / Speed-O'-Sound Sonic / Spring Mustachio / Tanktop Master / Tatsumaki / Twin Tail / Zombieman Dr. STONE ❥ Chelsea Childe / Chrome / Francois / Gen Asagiri / Ginro / Homura Momiji / Hyoga / Joel Gar / Kinro / Kohaku / Luna Wright / Minami Hokutozai / Moz / Nikki Hanada / Ryusui Nanami / Sai Nanami / Senku Ishigami / Stanley Snyder / Taiju Oki / Tsukasa Shishio / Ukyo Saionji / Xeno H. Wingfield / Yo Uei / Yuzuhira Ogawa My Hero Academia ❥ Aizawa Shouta / Himiko Toga / Hizashi Yamada / Jin Bubaigawara / Keigo Takami / Mirai Saaki / Mirio Togata / Nejire Hado / Neito Monoma / Rumi Usagiyama / Sako Atsuhiro / Shigaraki Tomura / Shinya Kamihara / Shuichi Iguchi / Tamaki Amajiki / Toshinori Yagi / Touya Todoroki / Tsunagu Hakamada Mob Psycho 100 ❥ Arataka Reigen / Hiroshi Shibata / Ichi Mezato / Katsuya Serizawa / Keiji Mogami / Matsuo / Megumu Koyama / Nozomu Hatori / Ritsu Kageyama / Ryo Shimazaki / Shigeo Kageyama / Sho Suzuki / Tenga Onigawara / Terada / Teruki Hanazawa / Toichiro Suzuki / Tome Kurata / Toshiki Minegishi / Tsubomi Takane / Yusuke Sakurai Osomatsu-san ❥ Choromatsu Matsuno / Ichimatsu Matsuno / Jyushimatsu Matsuno / Karamatsu Matsuno / Nyaa Hashimoto / Osomatsu Matsuno / Todomatsu Matsuno / Totoko Yowai Kakegurui ❥ Ibara Obami / Kaeda Manyuda / Kirari Momobami / Mary Saotome / Midari Ikishima / Miri Yobami / Miyo Inbami / Ririka Momobami / Rin Obami / Ryota Suzui / Sayaka Igarashi / Sumika Warakubami / Terano Totobami / Yumeko Jabami / Yumemi Yumemite / Yuriko Nishinotouin

manhwa series — character is listed in alphabetical order!

Eleceed ❥ Amyeong / Arthur Bryan / Cain Luterain / Chul Young / Dr. Delein / Duke Grane / Elay Pigarun / Gangseok Choi / Giwook Jang / Glant Gesimov / Guestella / Ian Patrick / Inhyuk Goo / Iseul Ju / Jiwoo Seo / Jisuk Yoo / Jiyoung Yoo / Jurion Patrick / Kartein / Kayden Break / Lia Eresby / Miyoung Ko / Muse / Pluton / Roist / Schneider / Seongha Park / Subin Lee / Sucheon Kang / Suman Kang / Vator / Wooin UnOrdinary ❥ Arlo / Blyke / Darren / Isen / John / Kuyo / Leilah / Remi / Rei / Seraphina

video games series — character is listed in alphabetical order!

Stardew Valley (+ Expanded) ❥ Abigail / Alex / Claire / Elliot / Emily / Haley / Harvey / Lance / Leah / Magnus / Maru / Penny / Sam / Sebastian / Shane / Sophia / Victor Baldur's Gate 3 ❥ Astarion / Gale / Halsin / Karlach / Lae'zel / Minthara / Shadowheart / Wyll Kingdom Hearts ❥ Axel / Demyx / Larxene / Lexaeus / Luxord / Marluxia / Naminé / Roxas / Saix / Vexen / Xaldin / Xemnas / Xigbar / Xion / Zexion Hogwarts Legacy ❥ Aesop Sharp / Amit Thakkar / Garreth Weasley / Leander Prewett / Mirabel Garlick / Natsai Onai / Ominis Gaunt / Parry Pippin / Poppy Sweeting / Sebastian Sallow / Victor Rookwood Detroit: Become Human ❥ Connor (RK800) / Daniel / Elijah Kamski / Gavin Reed / Kara / Luther / Markus / Nines (RK900) / North / Ralph / Sixty (RK-800-60) / Simon Watch Dogs Series ❥ Aiden Pearce / Dušan Nemec / Horatio Carlin / Josh Sauchak / Marcus Holloway / Raymond Kenney / Reginald Blenchman (Wrench) / Sitara Dhawan Danganronpa Series ❥ Akane Owari / Byakuya Togami / Celestia Ludenberg / Chiaki Nanami / Chihiro Fujisaki / Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu / Ghundam Tanaka / Gonta Gokuhara / Hajime Hinata / Hiyoko Saionji / Himiko Yumeno / Ibuki Mioda / Kaede Akamatsu / Kaito Momota / Kazuichi Souda / Kirumi Tojo / Kokichi Ouma / Korekiyo Shinguji / Makoto Naegi / Maki Harukawa / Mikan Tsukimi / Miu Iruma / Mondo Owada / Nagito Komaeda / Nekomaru Nidai / Peko Pekoyama / Rantaro Amami / Ryoma Hoshi/ Sakura Ogami / Sayaka Maizono / Shuichi Saihara / Sonia Nevermind / Teruteru Hanamura / Touko Fukawa / Tsumugi Shirogane / Yasuhiro Hagakure Persona Series ❥ Aegis / Akihiro Sanada / Ann Takamaki / Futaba Sakura / Goro Akechi / Hidetoshi Odagiri / Junpei Iori / Ken Amada / Makoto Niijima / Ren Amamiya / Ryoji Mochizuki / Ryuji Sakamoto / Shinjiro Agaraki / Theodore / Yusuke Kitagawa

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#🍀❛ RAINEE ༉‧₊˚#fandom list

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shiftingmuse · 10 months ago

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Francis Begbie x The Hierophant - Kindred Spirit;

ao3 link x

{Based on an old roleplay which I went back and read today; Basically Hiero and Begbie had a night together and he ends up leaving her only to come back and find Hiero is gone.}

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Franco sat on a beat-up couch, reviewing the night he had experienced away from his mates. The blonde had come into his life without warning and left him feeling inadequate without her near him. It had only been a week, but he was certain something was wrong. In the time away from her, June had come looking for him going on about a baby. It hit Begbie like a ton of bricks, thinking she was with a child. He'd only been with her a few times; he knew he couldn't be the father.

That had knocked him off his feet and on his arse; he hadn't forgotten about the blonde, but he sure as shite went into hiding. So much so that he got himself pinched for a few days. When he got out, the first thing he did was try and find the woman's apartment.

It took him longer than he expected, but he found the pub and then made his way to where she led him that night. Franco noted the keypad on the door and waited until someone went into the apartments before he could sneak in after them. Her apartment was on the second floor; he remembered that, and the door was not so difficult to spot either. His knocking didn't lead to anyone coming to check up on him. When it became too apparent no one was in, he pulled the knife from his back pocket and jimmy the door open.

He could tell right away no one had been in the apartment for some time. The bottle of whiskey they finished together was still on the couch.

As he looked around the space, it felt empty; it felt like someone had left town.

It took him a moment to register what he was feeling before he ran through the place. Anything he could open and check, he did so. He was trashing the place from the living room to the kitchen and then the bedroom. When everything set, when he realized she was gone, Begbie stood next to the bed with the knife in his hand.

"Whit did Ah dae, whit did Ah fuckin dae!?"

He flipped the knife open and then just went to shit about the situation. His anger that had been building up dove into the bed. Franco just lunged at the mattress and stabbed the item over and over again. The man kept stabbing at the thing until a spring came loose and cut his hand. "Fuck!" He shouted before his eyes focused on the blood dripping on the mattress.

"Fuckin psychopath..."

The whimper came a moment later before he got himself off the torn-up piece and hauled himself into the living room. His blood dripped through the apartment as he went, even as he came to sit on the couch.

No tears were shed, but the man was disturbed.

"She's gain."

Her blonde curls, those blue eyes, a short skirt, floral-pattered blouse, and kitten heels. Begbie closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. Those red-painted lips came into his mind watching her giggle as she called him bitter names. As she riled him more and more, wanting him to thrash and lash out. He set the blade down on the opposite side of the couch, then himself.

One of his hands reached up to touch a bit of flesh on his neck. It wasn't completely healed yet, but he knew the cut would scar. 'What is it, Franco? Don't think I won't cut you!?' Oh, that threat became a reality; she left him with a wound that she lapped at. His little minx, his wee bonnie missus, his...

"Hiero."

Begbie opened his eyes before he looked around the room for a moment. His hand wasn't bleeding as badly when he looked at the thing again. A frown on him before he reached for a handkerchief out of his pocket to wrap up the item.

"...she's gain."

A sigh came from the mustachioed Scotsman before he went to stand. "Ye waur nae a waste ay fuckin' time, ah was." He says leaving the knife behind on the couch. Feeling like his heart had been ripped out, knowing she was truly gone.

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Notes;

The knife Franco leaves at the apartment is the knife Hierophant gives him in the roleplay.

The rage he feels stabbing at the mattress is the idea he feels as if he's been fucked over. His rage is a mixture of loss and fear that he'll never see the woman again. Bleeding through the apartment is him trying to leave a part of him behind. While leaving the knife is letting go of Hiero because if she's just left without letting him know she's gone, then in his mind she wants nothing to do with him.

We can play on the idea she knows about June and the baby or just that she left because she's an assassin and was never meant to stay long. Either way, it's just an angsty little drabble piece.

#francis begbie #hiero #the hierophant #begbie #franco begbie #anyem #begbie x hiero #drabble #quick fic #short fic #tw; blood #tw; violence #tw; blood drinking

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usafphantom2 · 2 years ago

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The story of the RAF Phantom who "asked" for refueling in flight of a KC-130 from Argentina

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 20/08/2023 - 15:13 in History, Military

The F-4 Phantom formed an important part of the Royal Air Force (RAF) combat aircraft force for more than twenty years and provided the British service with one of the most capable attack fighters in the world. Once, a crew of an RAF Phantom, as a joke, asked for fuel from an Argentine Air Force KC-130 flying over the Falklands.

Two versions of the Phantom with a Rolls Royce Spey engine went into service in the Royal Air Force. The FG1 (the version also used by the Royal Navy) in the role of interceptor and the FGR2 in the ground attack and in the tactical reconnaissance role in Germany.

From 1977, all the Phantoms of the British Royal Air Force were used ALMOST exclusively as interceptor fighters in the airspace of the United Kingdom.

The following story titled "Surprise" appeared in Richard Pike's book, "Phantom Boys Volume 2".

"With the potential, as they say, to shoot in the foot, there was irony and surprise in the situation. But there it was, an important day, a day of new beginnings, a day of 1993 that was recorded in many diaries. When the colonel himself entered the crew room - a colonel who turned out to be big, mustachioed, exuberant - a sudden silence fell on the room. When squadron leader Archie Liggat, as commanding officer of Squadron 234, a unit of tactical weapons and advanced training in the RAF Valley in Anglesey, stepped forward, shook the colonel's hand and said: "May I introduce some of my employees and students, sir..." And as Archie went through the subtleties, he was aware that each move of his was under the scrutiny "Good weather, isn't it?" routines, he felt, deep down, the pressure of secondary agendas. Perhaps he fed thoughts that, despite the demonstration of joviality, the colonel could be hard, petty and selfish - not that Archie had anything against the subject personally, only that, given the circumstances, it was difficult not to feel more than a little confused by the process. And few would argue that the procedures were, to say the least, quite unusual.

It was three years earlier, on a day in October 1990, when Archie was a Phantom pilot based in the Falkland Islands, that the scenario was set up for the remarkable reunion that would take place, totally by chance, during the colonel's visit to Valley. On the one hand, it was by chance that Archie, along with his colleagues, was on rapid reaction alert service (QRA) on that specific day in the Falklands. The men were prepared to react, if necessary, while waiting in a special crew room next to a hangar with two fully armed Phantom FGR2s. On the day in question, Archie and his colleagues were informed of a special request from the Argentine government regarding a large section of Antarctic ice, part of the renowned Wilkins ice shelf, which detached and was adrift in the South Atlantic seas. The Wilkins ice shelf, evidently stable for most of the 20th century, began to fragment. Concerned about the effects of global warming, scientific researchers from Argentina were eager to make detailed observations of the air.

As the aircraft to be used for these observations, a Lockheed C-130 Hercules operated by the Argentine Air Force (Fuerza Aerea Argentina or FAA), had limited range, the Argentines requested permission to fly over the Falkland Inner Conservation and Management Zone (FICZ). As this would be the first flight of this type by an FAA aircraft after the 1982 war, the subject was controversial. However, the UK government agreed to the flight on the condition that the C-130, when crossing the FICZ, was accompanied by two RAF Phantoms. To deal with language difficulties, Spanish-speaking air traffic controllers would be available at the Phantom base at RAF Mount Pleasant in East Falkland.

This is how the two QRA Phantoms took off that spring day in the Falklands to intercept, identify and escort the Argentine aircraft. The plan worked as planned and did not take long for Archie, as a pilot of the first QRA aircraft, to maintain the training on the left side of the C-130. When in position, he noticed that the Argentine aircraft, in addition to camouflage insignia and paint, was similar to the RAF C-130s of flight 1312 based at Mount Pleasant. The latter was modified to offer an in-flight refueling facility that the Phantoms occasionally used. While Archie and his navigator made a sentry on the left side of the Argentine, the other Phantom pilot maneuvered judiciously while his navigator took pictures. The Phantom crews did not make radio contact with the Argentine opposing numbers, although some polite nods occurred from time to time. With the C-130's cruising speed of less than 300 knots, the progress through the FICZ seemed, after a while, slow - in fact, strangely slow, actually tedious to the point that Archie started to get quite bored.

Possibly, at that point, Archie's thoughts may have wandered in different directions, including, perhaps, mental images of home, of his birthplace in Grantown-on-Spey, in the Scottish Highlands ... Suddenly, Archie had an idea; an idea he discussed with his navigator, which seemed quite amused with the absurd proposition. During the training, they discovered that the escorted aircraft was one of the two FAA KC-130s, a type of Hercules based on the U.S. Marine Corps variant used for in-flight refueling. Archie decided to accelerate his two levers to reposition the Phantom; he wanted to be fully visible to the Argentine cockpit crew. He then lowered his left hand of the two levers to the fuel panel below. With his eyes still watching Hercules, Archie's fingers carefully groped the switch of the in-flight refueling probe. The distinct shape of this switch was promptly identified. Now, when he operated the switch, Archie and his navigator heard the typical thuds and noises that indicated the movement of his flight refueling probe. When the device, normally leveled with the fuselage by the cockpit, left its housing, the movement signaled a standard silent procedural message interpreted by the aviators as: "I would like some fuel, please!"

The response of the Hercules cockpit crew was immediate: the heads of both pilots turned to look at their escort. Meanwhile, several other crew members, with interrogative facial expressions, began to crowd against the side windows. The replica could be imagined:

“They're crazy!”

"How can we deal with these people?"

“They must be stressed!”

"It's a stratagem."

"No, it's just a joke. Let's play together. With this, one of the Hercules men smiled at the Phantom crew and made a positive sign. Thus encouraged, Archie maneuvered backwards to adopt the standard "waiting" position of replenishment. After a moment or two, to his astonishment, Hercules' refueling basket took a slight turn before starting to emerge from the hose drum unit. As the fuel line slowly stretched, Archie followed her back and began to move to a refueling position. At this juncture, however, the captain of Hercules must have decided that the prank had already gone too far: the hose bumped until it stopped, stopped and then was quickly rolled back into his accommodation. Archie has now eased his levers forward to resume his previous position in the Hercules cockpit. When he was there, he briefly lowered the oxygen mask to make an exaggeratedly taciturn expression. The reaction of Hercules' crew was intriguing: even more faces appeared on the side windows, all with wide smiles. Some shook their heads from side to side and shook their fingers as if they were a mischievous student.

Meanwhile, the captain of Hercules raised his cup of coffee in greeting, a sign that Archie interpreted as "no resentment". He therefore retracted his refueling probe and maintained a slightly broader formation as if indicating: 'Okay. It's agreed!' For the next hour, Archie maintained this position as the formation flew on the planned course that took the aircraft directly over the Mount Pleasant airfield and then towards the eastern limit of the FICZ. When there, Archie complied with the internationally agreed signal 'you are free to proceed' before giving a cheerful nod and moving sharply to the left as he headed back to Mount Pleasant.

After landing, Archie and the other crew members were duly informed by intelligence officers who asked adequately intelligent questions. As usual, there were forms to fill out, documents to sign, do this and that to ensure a satisfactory bureaucratic progression, but in a short time, in the hustle and bustle of a hectic life, the incident began to retreat to the back of Archie's mind. In fact, three years passed before memory was awakened, three years during which he moved from Leuchars to the 74º Squadron at the RAF Wattisham in Suffolk, where, among other functions, he was the acrobatic exhibition pilot of the Phantom - the last type in the RAF. In the fall of 1992, coinciding with the transition from RAF Wattisham to the Army Air Corps, he was assigned to the RAF Valley as commanding officer of the 234º Squadron, a training unit whose motto 'ignem mortemque despuimus' may have instilled a sense of admiration in the student body. (especially when they learned the meaning - 'we

***

Perhaps this motto was also appropriate when issues related to Argentina arose, although, as it has been about ten years since the Falklands War, efforts were underway to normalize relations. As part of this process, a new Argentine air attaché was appointed, a colonel who was being introduced to staff at several Royal Air Force stations throughout the country, including RAF Valley. With the choice of Squadron 234 as one of the units to be visited, on the day in question employees and students lined up to receive their important guest. To greet the colonel, the officers' cafeteria had provided tea with adequate tea cups, cutlery, fine cookies, sandwiches, buttoons and everything.

When the colonel finally arrived, he turned out to be a great man, of an exuberant nature, who seemed to go well with a mustache that could have made the legendary 'Biggles' proud. To accompany the colonel, elegantly uniformed members of the aeronautical attaché's team were accompanied by a group of senior officers of the Royal Air Force. In contrast, Archie and his men wore their normal day-to-day flight suits. When Archie made the appropriate presentations, he was relieved to see that the colonel was an affable guy who talked freely with everyone present. Perhaps it was even more surprising, therefore, when the colonel suddenly stopped talking to look, stunned, at a badge he had just seen in Archie's flying costume. The badge, innocuous enough for Archie to think, revealed the achievement of 1,000 hours of flight in a Phantom.

"Have you ever been to the Falklands?" asked the colonel. An embarrassed silence came down over the room.

“Yes, sir. On several occasions," Archie said, "although we called the islands something else." He looked nervously around the room. Some of the top officers of the Royal Air Force made an ugly face in disapproval.

"On several occasions?"

“Yes. I was assigned to fly in Phantoms.

"Interesting," said the colonel. After a break, he continued: "In fact, I flew there myself."

"You?"

“In fact. That's... in a way.

"Sir?"

“It must have been about three years ago. I was aboard a C-130 that was allowed to fly over the Falklands — the first FAA aircraft to do so since the war. We had to be escorted by two Phantoms, one of whom pretended to need in-flight refueling from our C-130." The colonel laughed and continued: "It was all a joke, of course. But he broke the ice, so to speak, and the captain of the C-130 was willing to play together to a certain extent."

Immediately, Archie waved to one of his students, whispered a message that made the student run to come back after a moment or two with Archie's logbook. Sneaking hurriedly, Archie found a specific page with a loosely inserted photograph. He extracted the photograph and showed it to the colonel whose face, while studying the photo, seemed at first shocked, then confused, amused and surprised. "Is this you...?" said the colonel. "Yes, sir. I was on duty that day - I was the Phantom pilot who pretended to need refueling in flight."

“My God...” The colonel stared at Archie and then, in a spontaneous act, patted him on the shoulder, shook his hand vigorously and grabbed him in a bear hug. Now, in a growing spirit of munificence, the colonel rummaged through his pocket to take out a leather bag that contained a medal from the Argentine aviation academy. Without further ado, the colonel solemnly fixed the medal on Archie's flying costume before, with his mustache bristled with pride, took a step back and greeted our gallant protagonist.

With this, the conversation in the room resumed while poor Archie, while struggling to recover from the momentary vertigo induced by such extravagance, was relieved to see that the group of senior officers of the Royal Air Force now seemed a little less sad. Maybe Archie felt a little dizzy, taken by surprise by the bizarre and unplanned experience. Was it, however, totally unplanned? Reflecting, Archie concluded that the colonel seemed, in some way, pre-prepared. If not, why carry such a medal anyway? Certainly not at the chance of finding some random individual who instantly needed one?

Finally, when the colonel and his group made mention of leaving, he approached Archie to shake his hand warmly. “Goodbye, my friend. Please pay a visit to the Argentine air academy one day, huh?"

“Thank you, sir. That would be... Archie suddenly noticed the way the colonel was looking at him. When the colonel nodded and turned to leave, Archie got the clear impression that he knew all the time who Archie was. He could never be sure, of course, and as he watched the Argentine officer and his entourage leave, Archie realized that all that strange episode would have to remain one of life's little surprises.

Merely illustrative images

Source: The Aviation Geek Club

Tags: Military AviationFAA - Fuerza Aerea Argentina/Força Aérea ArgentinaFalklands/Malvinas WarHISTORYRAF - Royal Air Force/Royal Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Daytona Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work around the world of aviation.