#( c: weston )

[vanna-huang]

WHERE: Paradise Resort and Spa... New Year's Bash!

@wesparkcr

If Vanna had known there were other Huángs at the resort for New Year's, she would have thought twice about attending. Her eagerness to see Cameron and spend time with him—after only texting for weeks—took precedence. However, if she had received a bit of a warning, she might have planned differently—like choosing a dress that could handle a potential tumble after playing drinking games with her competitive cousins, for instance. "Pok Gai!" Vanna shouts, hitting the ground, her butt landing in the dirt. A string of curses flew from out her mouth, her cousins both terrified and full of laughter as one helped her to her feet, backing away as soon as she was able to stand. "You're all dead as soon as I'm back—" she warns, hurrying off to find a napkin. After making it back inside the ballroom, Vanna was quick to find her best friend almost immediately. She lunges for him, pulling him towards her and against the wall near a dark corner. "There you are!" she calls, looking around before turning to get a good look at him. "How haven't we seen each other yet? It's been hours since I got here," she shakes her head, pausing when the vision of him truly sinks in. "Wait..." a grin creeps onto her face, tilting her head as she tugs at his sweater, eyes going over the state of his hair. "You are so handsome, Wes," she beams, pulling at his sleeves. "Holly got this for you, didn't she?" After a beat, she waves her hand, turning around. "Do I have anything on my butt? I fell in the dirt," she groans, turning her head around. "By the way, is Selin back in town or something? I could've sworn I saw her earlier."

[maricabrera]

WHO: @wesparkcr WHERE: Parker Family Home Hallway, the Night of the Halloween Party

With the sheer amount of tequila and Jell-O shots she'd ingested tonight, Mari shouldn't have been awake. In fact, Mari had climbed into bed with her two best friends absolutely exhausted and ready to succumb to the sleep that had been weighing down her eyelids as she'd removed her makeup and changed out of her costume. However, she'd only gotten about an hour of sleep before being awoken by some sound within the house. By then, both Lia and Holly were deep in their drunken REM sleep and Mari, try as she might, simply couldn't follow suit.

Instead, she slowly made her way out of the bed and tiptoed her way towards the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help. Except she didn't make it that far. Somewhere in her inebriated conscious, her feet steered her away from the kitchen and solace of a cool glass of water and instead deposited her at Wes's bedroom door.

Standing there for a moment, the brunette hesitated, a quick internal debate happening. There was a smarter part of her brain, a possibly sober part, that told her to turn around and go back to bed. But the reckless, self indulging, larger part of her brain said to knock. So she did. Once. Twice. Three times, before taking a step back and waiting. She listened for movement behind the door as she rocked from her heels to the balls of her feet and back again, only stopping when the door opened and she was face to face with a man who frustrated her in a way she couldn't describe. "Trick or treat."

[bellstrom]

WHERE: Firefly Brewery

WHEN: 7 years ago... during lunch!

@wesparkcr & @hollyparkcr (featuring: Ulla Hellström)

Benny had gotten used to routines. He managed to gain a lot of experience during his ten years away from home— away from family. Though, now that they were within reach... within his vicinity, Benny found it difficult to face them. He had already heard from his mother how she managed to get back in touch with the Parkers; all he had to do was fall in line and carry on like he did back in Chicago. Benny thought it would be easy, but when he thought he saw the back of Holly's head one time at Chapmans, Benny darted towards the exit.

He wasn't sure how much his mother and sister had shared with the Parkers. They had to know something - they had to know what happened... right? His mother had reassured him that everything was okay now, but the idea of what his cousins must think of him made it difficult to face them - any of them. It had been a month and a half since Benny arrived in Briar Ridge. He knew he had to face them sooner or later.

"Hey, Mom," Benny greets, hurrying into the brewery as he kisses his mother's cheek and settles across from her. "Sorry, I'm late. We suddenly got hit with a rush, and I had to stay back for a bit." Benny's eyes darted toward the extra plate sitting beside her, meeting her gaze with a quizzical look. He looks beside himself, his defensiveness kicking in. Why was there an extra setting? His mother reached out for his hand and brushed it lightly. "Thank you for taking the time, Bug." Benny feels his stomach settle, his childhood nickname grounding him. "Thank you for coming home."

His brows twist, clenching his jaw as he takes hold of her hand, gripping it harder. Of course, he means to say. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. "—Anyway," she smiles, returning her hand to her side. Ulla straightens her posture, noting the sight of her nephew's arrival from out the window. "I know you have to get back to work soon. But I wanted to talk to you about your cousins." Raising his chin, Benny hums, folding his arms across his chest. "You know they've been wanting to see you. Don't you think it's time?" He hums again, looking down with a scrunched nose. There will never be a perfect time and he knew that for a while now. That was the scary part. Benny sighs, exhaling.

[esra-ulusoy]

Esra wasn't sure what she expected after making such a request; she only felt compelled to plead with him. She longed to rebuild her friendship with Holly, a desire that had been growing since she had started following her on Instagram over the past year. Though she was uncertain about what would happen if Holly found out, Esra was too afraid and in too deep. When Wes asked her a question, she froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Her gaze shifted away as she pondered her situation. If she truly wanted an escape, this could be her chance, right? It was strange how difficult it was to recognize an exit sign. Rahmi had become so adept at blurring the lines that Esra could no longer tell what was normal and what wasn’t.

Looking back at Wes, she noticed a flicker of movement behind the glass doors situated behind them. A sense of unease washed over her; she felt that if she stayed there any longer, Rahmi would reemerge in an even worse mood. Esra’s gaze softened as she looked back up at Wes. Rising to her feet, she took a step closer and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to be fine,” she said, giving him a reassuring pat. “I’ll head back inside now; I’ve been out here a bit too long,” she added with a wink. After a moment, she steps back. “Thank you, Wes,” she said before taking a few steps toward the doors.

Wes watched her carefully, his fingers tapping absently against his glass as the weight of her words settled between them. There was something about the way she said it—don’t tell Holly—that made his chest tighten. He hadn’t known Esra well before, but he knew enough now to recognize the fear laced beneath her request. It wasn’t just about keeping secrets; it was about keeping something buried. His jaw flexed slightly as he considered her, his gaze steady and unreadable. "Alright," he finally said, his voice quieter now, firm. No questions, no pushing. Just that. A simple agreement. Still, something gnawed at him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore it and pretend like he didn't see the weight she seemed to be carrying. "You don't have to tell me," he added after a moment, tilting his head slightly, "but... is this something I should be keeping quiet about?" His meaning was clear — are you safe? — but he left the question open-ended instead, letting her decide how much to give.

[r0bins-repert0ire]

SDMP DESIGNS GO!! my streamers <3 feel free to ask about em in the replies :J

[lemuseum]

[bldrdsh]

@poisonpicked / wes landry

He pauses momentarily, glancing at his little brother before offering a small grin and canting his head to the side.

"You think Roxie's gonna perform in the bar tonight? Dad said we could go and watch if she does."

SUFFICE IT TO SAY he's still surprise Jamie let them do something like that, but both their dads are allowing them to go. Almost unheard of, but he suspects that the two of them strongly believe in support amongst the siblings.

[kiillmeromantically]

status: closed

based: linked in source

with: @hedonistiics

she had practically pleaded with her father to pick her up from work that night. it wasn't ideal for her to even have to ask for a ride. yet her step mother had just needed the truck that billie usually drove. her father apparently had something else to do but he told her not to worry. already she knew what that meant and it was something that she wanted to avoid. her step brother was going to be picking her up. ever since her father had married her life had been turned upside down and not in a good way. of course she had tried to get along with him but she realized quickly how foolish that was. especially with the way that he behaved and some of the things that had occurred. things that she hadn't told anyone else. she had been waiting outside of the bar and one of the servers offered to wait considering how late it was. he was offering to light her smoke when she realized she saw headlights approaching. instantly she froze, the cigarette poised in her hand. only to groan as the car practically slammed to a stop and she instantly shoving her co worker away," thanks! you can go!" he seemed confused but he was listening as she heard the car door opening and then rushed footsteps. billie instantly turned to see the pissed expression on his face," before you even start," she said quickly," he was just being nice since it's late and it's dark out."

[tomoleary]

Moebius original

Moebius Homage

Art by Chris Weston

[vanna-huang]

WHERE: Outside of ....Silver Creek Ranch!

@wesparkcr

Vanna couldn't stop thinking about the hills of Briar Ridge, an image she couldn't help but associate with her hometown. The other day, she caught sight of it as she drove around town in her mother's car— the sight of horses tugging at her heartstrings. Encountering Cameron so early shifted something. It frightened her, as it felt like a warning sign of an impending end. Even though it didn't turn out as badly as she anticipated, it only increased her skepticism. Why was this all happening so fast? Her mother had already organized a welcoming party that would probably occupy the entire block. It had been less than a week, yet it felt like a month had passed. And all Vanna could think about were those hills. Pulling up to the ranch, Vanna rests her elbow out the window. She rests her head on her arm, taking in the sights. The sky was clear, with clouds far off in the distance. The distant sounds of horses made Vanna's ears perk, her eyes scanning for them. She felt as though she were back in middle school; the eagerness that rushed through her upon seeing a horse for the first time was ingrained in her memory. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but a spark of inspiration ignited within her—why had she never tried painting a horse before?

Vanna reaches for her phone, holding it sideways as she takes photos of the ranch in front of her. After taking a few pictures, she brings the screen back to her and scrolls through them, feeling dissatisfied. This ranch definitely belongs to someone. She nodded to herself, jutting her head out the window as she looked around. I definitely shouldn't step onto their property just to take better photos. Holding onto the handle, Vanna opens the door, stepping out. I'll just be in and out— really fast. Superfast. Phone in hand, she starts walking off, eyes focused on the perfect image of a horse on the hill before her. God, that's— She pulls out her phone. Like I wasn't even here.

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

DC x DP Fic idea: The Royal Consort

Wesley Weston runs a blog after getting over his desire to expose Danny's secret- primarily due to no one believing him- and no one pays attention to it since almost all of Casper high school has one too.

The difference between the hundreds of other blogs is that one of his pictures of Phantom is clear. A perfectly uncorrected image of the famous ghost, whereas nearly all other pictures are blurry due to ghosts disrupting cameras. Even Wes isn't sure how he managed to capture him so well.

Another difference between his blog and others is that one of his followers happens to be John Constantine, who followed the kid a long time ago due to the fanfiction of the Bats and found them hilarious.

John opens his phone app, expecting a new chapter to the Bruce Wayne/Superman fic, and spits out his tea upon seeing the High King of the Dead casually in the human world. Horrified that the King has not been appropriately welcomed- which could lead to a war that the humans would never win- he calls an emergency Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It didn't help that they had allowed a county to pass the anti-ecto laws, which ruined any attempt to appease the Ghost King once the news broke to the public. The League still worried about a declaration of war even after they demolished the laws and the United Nations had the States apologize on humans' behalf.

They quickly discover High King Phantom has been visiting Earth for almost three years. Before his coronation, Phantom had not been outside the Infinite Realms very often though he has appeared throughout history. Cave drawings date back thousands of years before the first ancient Egyptians, but he's visits are few and short.

Life would naturally send him back to the Realms because he had too much power and ectoplasm. After taking the throne, his powers only grew, which meant someone had to summon him as the only way for him to stay on Earth longer than an hour.

Now as King, he appeared only within the small town of Amity Park daily. Why?

John sighs. "He has an anchor. Someone is tying him to this plane. Like the helmet for Nabu, which allows Doctor Fate to exist here without being launched back to the Infinite Releams, Phantom has bonded himself. And I know who that is"

He pulls up a class photo on Weston's blog and points to a boy wearing a particular necklace.

"Danny Fenton is wearing the official Royal Consort of the Infinite Realms symbol and has been since he was fourteen. Phantom's husband may be our only hope to salvage the terrible mess the USA's bloody GIW placed the rest of us in."

Danny loved the necklace he found in Pariah Dark's old haunt. He inherited Pariah's haunt and everything inside once he was crowned and hasn't taken it off since. He didn't think it would be an issue. It's not like it would out his secret to his parents or anyone else since it was in Ghost Speech. Even he didn't know what it said.

Then one morning he comes down for breakfast only to have the most important members of the Justice League sitting in his living room waiting to greet him.

Desperate to keep his halfa status a secret, Danny must convince the entire world watching him, that he's just a human who scandalously eloped at age fourteen with one of the strongest beings in the mulitverse.

Jack's horrified "We were shooting my son-in-law this whole time" because a meme that trends for months.

[demongemz]

All the wine moms are still holding out. (from bret weston wallis); @fcdcdmcmories

Ada raised an eyebrow at the other words, unable to keep the chuckle from her lips shaking her head “Because you are such a catch? Please if anyone would dream of getting into bed with you they’d need more than just wine.” She mused while sipping her whiskey. “Try a dive bar that serves cheap alcohol and maybe you can get lucky if that’s what you are looking for.”

[andyholliday]

There never is a right time with you.

When you were around we were more than good, but nothing ever came before your work and eventually even when you were home, you weren't. It's why as much as part of me was surprised when you broke it off and left, part of me wasn't.

It was the wrong time to have a relationship with me, Andy, and I see that now. I can only apologize so many times for not appreciating you and giving you what you deserved.

We were good when I was around, weren't we?

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.4

Where (Y/n) becomes an A to C student. It's not her fault tho! Blame it on the trauma.

ALSO, THANK YOU TO @oof-spoof FOR PRACTICALLY FUNDING THE INVINCIBLE SERIES!!! EVERYONE GIVE THEM SOME LOVE!!!

Mark grabbed the keys, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word, and you followed suit, exhaustion settling deep into your bones as you slumped into the passenger seat. As you buckled your seatbelt, he turned the ignition, the radio flicking on as he scrolled through channels until he landed on the familiar one, 96.5. The quiet drive began, with Mark’s fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel in time with the music, a rhythm that seemed at odds with the tense atmosphere filling the car.

You stared out the window, letting the passing scenery blur before you. Houses and shops you once thought would stand forever flew past, their vibrant facades a painful reminder of all you’d lose in the next five months. This town, this life—it was doomed.

Mark’s fingers slowed, and his eyes flicked toward you, his voice slipping in smoothly through the silence. “You seem a bit… off,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Stayed up late or something?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, masking the churn of emotions beneath a neutral expression. “Just tired,” you replied shortly, hoping that would be enough.

He gave a low hum, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they scanned your face. “You’ve been acting different lately. Jumpy, kind of… paranoid, maybe?”

The subtle accusation prickled at your nerves, and you tore your gaze away from him, fixing your eyes back on the road. “It’s just school,” you muttered. “And the tests. No big deal.”

But Mark’s voice didn’t lose that sharp edge. “Right,” he said, drawing out the word, as if savoring the slight tension in your voice. “Because that’s totally you. Ignoring me and Dad, breaking down in the arms of your friends you see in school everyday, and sitting at the dining table like a vegetable for hours.”

You tightened your grip on your seatbelt, willing yourself to stay calm. “Maybe I just need sometime to myself,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound nonchalant.

Mark didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze linger, heavy and assessing. You were painfully aware of his scrutiny, and each second under his gaze felt like it stretched into eternity. Then, he leaned back, lips curling in a faint smirk.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, almost a whisper, but there was a chill behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll find out, (Y/n).”

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken promises. You could feel his eyes on you, searching, prying, as if he were peeling back the layers of your mind to uncover whatever secrets you kept hidden. You forced yourself to look straight ahead, but his words echoed in your mind, sinking in like a thorn you couldn’t dislodge.

As you pulled up to the school, you felt as though you could barely breathe. Mark turned off the car, watching you with that same intense, unnerving gaze. “Don’t go doing anything you’ll regret,” he added, his tone light, almost playful, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

With a tight nod, you opened the car door and stepped out, feeling his gaze bore into your back as you walked toward the school entrance. The hollow ache in your chest grew heavier, the knowledge that your own brother was already suspicious clawing at you. You had five months left before everything fell apart—and now, Mark was already starting to close in.

The moment you stepped out of the car, you quickened your pace, your feet carrying you across the parking lot toward the school entrance where Hallie, Connor, and Weston were waiting. You could feel Mark’s gaze burning into your back, heavy with suspicion, his presence like a dark cloud that followed you no matter how fast you walked. You forced yourself to keep your head down, ignoring the instinct to turn around and see if he was still watching.

As you neared your friends, a breath of relief slipped from your lips. Hallie caught your eye, giving you a small, knowing nod, and Weston nudged Connor, who was hunched over his phone. They could see the strain in your expression, the tension lingering around you, and immediately closed the distance, creating a small, protective circle.

“Everything okay?” Hallie asked quietly, her voice low but filled with concern. You managed a quick nod, brushing it off as best as you could.

“It’s… fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

They didn’t press further, but you could tell they were already on edge. They knew you well enough to sense when something was wrong, and your silence said plenty.

A few feet behind you, Mark had come to a stop, his arms folded as he leaned against the side of the car, watching you with that same unsettling intensity. He made no effort to hide it, his gaze fixed, sharp, studying your every move. A casual onlooker might not notice the tension in his stance, but you could feel it, the way he observed you with the quiet patience of someone biding their time.

Then, in a calculated move, Mark shifted his attention to a group of boys loitering by the side of the building—his so-called friends. They were loud, boisterous, and clearly thrilled to see him approach, clapping him on the shoulder and making crude jokes, the type he always pretended to enjoy. But you knew him too well; you saw the way he tolerated their company with a thinly veiled disdain, a quiet irritation masked by a charming grin.

One of the boys slapped Mark on the back, laughing too loudly at something Mark hadn’t even responded to. Mark flashed a smirk, humoring them, but his gaze darted back to you, subtle but piercing, as if ensuring you knew he was still watching. He laughed at some joke, a hollow sound, but his eyes never lost that calculated look, a hunter keeping track of his prey while biding his time.

Your shoulders tensed. Even surrounded by his friends, he seemed hyper-focused on you, as though he could sense your discomfort. You knew he was letting you go for now, but his patience wouldn’t last forever. Mark was never one to let things go unchecked, and with each passing second, his suspicion was sharpening, honing in on you.

Connor’s hand brushed against your arm, bringing you back to the present. “You good?” he asked, his voice a murmur, keeping it low so no one else could hear.

You forced yourself to breathe, nodding again. “Let’s get inside.”

Together, you and your friends made your way into the school, the familiar hum of voices and shuffling footsteps drowning out the tension outside. But even as the walls closed around you, shielding you from Mark’s stare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already set his sights on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d unraveled every secret you fought so hard to hide.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you leaned in close to Hallie, whispering, “We need to talk. Later.”

She nodded in agreement before heading off to her first class, Weston following in tandem. 

With that, you and Conner head to your first class, nerves jolting and wired. For some reason your fight-or-flight was kicking in, pumping needless adrenaline through your body (it seemed like your body was always in fight or flight mode, never really stopping or calming down). 

As you and Connor slipped into your seats, you forced yourself to look as composed as possible, even as your insides churned with anxiety. The entire classroom felt distant, almost surreal, as if you were watching it all through a fog. Your hands clenched the edge of your desk, a small attempt to ground yourself, to stop the insistent rush of adrenaline flooding your veins.

It was almost maddening, this constant state of vigilance, like your body couldn’t accept that, for now at least, you were safe. You knew Mark was out there somewhere, probably already listening with his enhanced hearing, his sharp ears tuned in for the slightest slip-up. He could be in any room, any hallway, eavesdropping without you even realizing it.

Soon, your math teacher, Mrs. Barnes entered, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor, as she began to set up for the day’s lesson. You took a shaky breath, forcing your focus on her as she scrawled equations across the whiteboard, her voice drifting around you as she launched into a review of yesterday’s formulas.

But as you tried to listen, to grasp the material, you hit a wall—a terrifying, absolute void where your memories of math should have been. The numbers blurred, sliding off your mind like water, and no matter how hard you focused, the information simply wouldn’t stick.

Panicking slightly, you scanned the board, hoping that maybe a familiar formula or concept would spark something. But it was like staring at a foreign language. The frustration gnawed at you, each failed attempt to remember only heightening your sense of dread. You looked over at Connor, your pulse racing, and found him already watching you, a look of shared panic in his eyes.

You could tell he was struggling too. He shook his head slightly, his mouth set in a grim line. He leaned down, pulling out his notebook and scribbling something quickly. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slid it over to you.

Do you remember any of this?

You hesitated, your hand trembling as you wrote back. 

Nothing. I can’t remember a single thing. It’s like…

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. It was as if everything you’d learned here—the academic knowledge, the normal parts of life—had simply been erased. Your mind was so conditioned to survive, to fight and endure, that it had discarded everything else. In a terrifying way, you were no longer the student you once were. You’d been reshaped entirely by the trauma of the last life.

Connor swallowed, looking down at the note. You watched as he took in the implications, his face growing paler with every passing second. Mrs. Barnes continued her lesson, unaware of the silent panic that rippled between you and Connor. The words she wrote on the board may as well have been gibberish. You didn’t even recognize half the terms she was using anymore, the definitions blurred or completely forgotten.

You turned your gaze to your textbook, flipping the pages with trembling fingers, hoping that something, anything, would stick. But all you could focus on was the sensation of being cornered, of being hunted. Your mind kept flitting back to those dark days in the resistance, to the endless battles, to the snap decisions you’d made just to stay alive. It was like your brain had rewired itself, discarding anything that didn’t serve the immediate need to survive.

Connor nudged you, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts, and he quickly scribbled another note.

This is bad. What are we supposed to do if we can’t even remember the basics?

You tried to take a calming breath, but it came out shaky. He was right. You were barely keeping up this façade of normalcy as it was. If you couldn’t handle school, you’d stand out even more. Mark would notice. Your parents would notice. Teachers would start asking questions. People would wonder what had happened to you.

We’ll figure something out, you wrote back, though even you weren’t convinced.

It seems like you’ve said that same sentence too many times though with no real solutions.

But before you could come up with a more reassuring answer, Mrs. Barnes turned toward your row, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the classroom. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shifted your gaze to the board, hoping she hadn’t noticed the exchange.

“Connor, (Y/n). Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” she asked, her tone pointed.

You straightened in your seat, forcing a tight smile. “No, ma’am. Just—trying to catch up.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer than you liked, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but eventually she turned back to the board, resuming her explanation. You exchanged a glance with Connor, both of you silently relieved.

But the relief was short-lived. The void in your mind loomed larger, a terrifying reminder of the life you’d left behind—and the life you couldn’t fully return to. It was becoming painfully clear that you weren’t just out of practice or distracted, no, something fundamental had changed inside you. You were something else entirely now, someone forged in battle and scarred by the horrors of survival.

The lesson droned on. You could only hope that whatever pieces of your old self remained would be enough to keep everyone safe, long enough to figure out how to stop the coming shit show.

Finally, the bell rings, a sharp burst of sound cutting through your thoughts, you quickly gather your things, grateful for the temporary reprieve from your spiraling thoughts. You and Connor exchange a brief, tense look before parting ways. You both have too much to figure out, too many gaps to fill, but there’s no time now.

Your next class, Entry Biology, is in another part of the building, tucked into a quieter wing. The halls are buzzing with students, their voices overlapping in casual conversations that feel alien to you, like a language you no longer fully understand. You keep your gaze down, trying to blend in as best as you can, making your way through the sea of faces and finding your classroom near the end of the corridor.

You step inside, spotting a seat at the back of the room. With no assigned seating, you slip into it, hoping it’ll give you some measure of privacy. As you set your bag down, you can’t remember if this was your usual seat or not. The details of your day-to-day routine from this life feel like a distant memory, blurring with the harsh reality of your previous one. If someone had taken this seat before, they’d just have to ask you to move. For now, you’re hoping they’ll leave you alone.

The room gradually fills with students, but no one seems to notice or care that you’re there. You breathe a small sigh of relief, your mind still reeling from the earlier realization that your memory has turned selectively barren. Biology… you struggle to recall the basic concepts, things that should be easy.

Mitosis? Ecosystems? Even the Cell Cycle feels slippery in your mind. The memories just won’t solidify. Your mind instinctively drifts back to the knowledge that does stick, but it’s all survival tactics, the hollow echo of combat drills, the weight of loss, and the survival instincts that you can’t shake.

Your teacher, Mr. Halloway, enters the room, adjusting his glasses as he sets down his materials on the desk. He’s a calm, unassuming presence with an easygoing manner that normally might have put you at ease. But today, you find it hard to focus, the anxiety lingering from earlier gnawing at you as he begins writing on the board.

“Alright, class, today we’re going to dive into cell structures and the basics of cell function,” he says, the chalk scratching faintly as he writes. “Let’s start with the organelles—things like the mitochondria, nucleus, and chloroplasts in plant cells.”

Okay! You knew about the Mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.

You stare at the board, the words and diagrams meaningless in your mind, like someone dumped them there without context. There’s a flicker of recognition, but it feels shallow, inaccessible. You remember how cells look under a microscope, how textbooks diagram them out with labeled parts, but the function of each organelle slips through your grasp. Your heart sinks as you realize it isn’t just math—you really don’t remember anything.

You fish your phone out of your bag, concealing it beneath the desk, and quickly type a message to Your group chat.

(Y/n): Can’t remember anything from class feels like my brain’s wiped

A few seconds pass before Weston’s reply comes in.

Westy My Bestie: Same here

Can’t remember jack shit

Halligator: This is bad

Geometry is my best subject and now i can't even remember simple theorems

     Ppl r gonna get sus

You read their responses, your grip on the phone tightening. At least you’re not alone in this, but it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety that your memories are failing you. The bell signaling the end of class is a lifeline, and you’re the first one out the door, weaving through the crowded hallway with your thoughts spinning.

The final bell rings for lunch, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your last two classes so far, AP Human Geography and English I, had been easier to handle, but that gnawing feeling of something missing never left.

Geography was more about concepts, patterns of human behavior, and interactions rather than memorized facts, so you managed to piece together enough to get by. English, luckily, was more focused on analysis than strict recall, so your rusty memory didn’t hinder you as much. But the underlying dread still weighed on you, a nagging reminder that anything concrete, anything involving details you should remember, seemed out of reach.

You step into the hallway, the crowd surging around you, and immediately spot Weston waiting outside his classroom. He raises a hand in greeting, a familiar face amid the chaos, and together, you head toward the cafeteria. The line’s already growing, students chatting and joking around.. You scan the serving trays, landing on the day’s special: some sort of chicken sandwich with fries and a bag of chips.

A smile tugs at your lips despite the morning you’ve had; after living off scraps and rations in your past life, a hot meal—even a school cafeteria one—was a blessing. The memory of tearing open a ration pack, forcing down tasteless blocks of compressed food, flashes through your mind, and you’re struck by how strange it feels to have choices again.

Once you’ve paid for your food, you and Weston make your way through the bustling cafeteria and out into the open-air courtyard. It’s refreshing to be outside, where the air feels less claustrophobic and you can catch glimpses of the autumn leaves turning golden, the first hints of fall in the cool breeze. You spot Connor and Hallie already sitting at your usual table, near the far edge of the courtyard, both of them eating like they haven’t seen food in days.

"Hey," you greet them, sliding into the seat beside Connor while Weston sits across from you. You unwrap your sandwich, taking a hesitant bite. The flavors hit your taste buds, far better than anything you’d had during the rebellion. It was still a cafeteria meal, but right now, it might as well have been gourmet.

Hallie looks up from her sandwich, barely swallowing before launching into conversation. "God, you guys have no idea how weird today’s been." She glances around, ensuring no one’s within earshot before she continues. "I feel like I’m flunking every single class. I don’t remember anything useful."

Connor nods in agreement, his expression grim. “Same here. It’s like my brain’s refusing to do anything academic. Anything beyond survival skills… it’s just blank.”

Weston, who’s been munching on his fries, glances up, his face thoughtful. "Maybe it’s some kind of psychological thing? Like, we’re all for sure traumatized and now that we’re back, we’re struggling to fit in? Doesn’t the brain forget non-vital info under extreme stress or something?"

You nod, considering his theory, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. If this was some side effect of trauma, it was leaving you dangerously exposed. 

"It makes sense," you admit, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it’s going to be hard to keep up the act if we can’t remember even basic things. Especially with…” Your voice trails off, not wanting to say his name out loud.

But Connor catches your drift. “Mark,” he mutters, a tense silence settling over the group. “He’s been watching you, hasn’t he?”

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something’s up. He hasn’t figured out what, but he’s… suspicious."

Hallie’s eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches as she takes a sharp breath. "We need a plan, and fast. It’s one thing to keep low in class, but Mark? He’s not just anybody. If he thinks there’s something to find out, he’ll find it."

Your stomach twists as you think back to his words from that morning: “Whatever it is, I’ll find out, (Y/n).” You remembered the look in his eyes, the way he seemed to study you, his gaze cold and calculating, false care in his voice, like you were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved.

"Maybe," Weston says slowly, breaking the silence, "we could take a more passive approach. You know, let him think he’s figured you out. Act dumb or, like, make mistakes on purpose. Lead him onto a false answer."

Connor raises an eyebrow, considering it. "Might work, but it’s risky. If he thinks he’s being played, he won’t hold back.

You nod at Weston, “I think its worth a shot. We’re all screwed either way, so what's the harm?”

After your statement, everyone falls into a comfortable silence; most likely retreating into their own minds.

You continue eating in silence, the sounds of laughter and conversations around you feeling distant, like a world you’re no longer part of. Each bite you take tastes more and more hollow.

Finally, Connor breaks the silence again. “We need to figure out how we’re going to warn the Guardians. Without tipping off Mark or Omni-Man.”

You nod, your mind already spinning with ideas and doubts. 

“We have to get a message to them somehow. We could use anonymous tips, maybe? Something that won’t trace back to us?” Hallie shoots out.

Weston shrugs. “Anonymous tips work in movies, sure, but this is real life. They’ll get curious, and then the government and Guardians will find out it was us. Plus, Omni-man and Invincible are two highly respected and trusted heroes, there's no guarantee they’d even believe the warning we send.”

“Weston has a point,” You say. “But, it doesn't matter. If they believe us or not, at least they’ll have the thought in the back of their minds. Even if it comes back to us, at least the Guardians will know.”

Because in a world where the clock is ticking, and survival is the only option—there’s no time left to be selfish over your own lives.

[weirdlookindog]

Nude study (Anna May Wong)

by Edward Weston, c. 1919

[maricabrera]

For a moment, the sounds of the festival faded away as Mari was transported back to the night the pair shared all those months ago but refused to speak about. Her hands on his bare chest, nails scraping along his skin as her hips pressed down against his; and suddenly she was breathless for another reason. Wes may drive her crazy on a regular basis, but god- it wasn't always in a bad way. Despite what she may say. But just as quickly as she slipped into the memory she was brought back to reality, except now his shirt was grasped beneath her fists and her body was pressed down onto his a bit more.

Shaking her head, Mari smirked down at him, a glint of challenge reflecting in her eyes. "I knew you couldn't hang, Parker." She teased, allowing herself another brief moment to bask in his undivided attention and his hands on her hips before rolling off of him and holding out a hand to help him up. "C'mon, grandpa. Let's get you safely to the sidelines so I can show you how it's done."

Once she was certain Wes was comfortable, unhurt, and watching, Mari hopped back up onto the mechanical bull. She wrapped the rope around her right hand once again, her left coming up to rest atop the hat she still had on top of her head to hold it in place as the bull began to move.

Quickly finding her groove, Mari stayed on the bull for a few seconds. Her focus on the little bet she and Wes had going until she spotted something in the crowd that- though she'd deny it until she was blue in the face- made her stomach drop. Wes's attention wasn't on her anymore, but a beautiful blonde standing next to him. No, not next to him, but between him and the fencing around the mechanical bull setup, as she laughed at something he said. It was a distraction with accompanying unexpected emotions that had her losing her grip and falling to the mat with an ungraceful thud, and as she lay on her back, looking up at the night sky, Mari quickly ran through her options. She could go over there and lay a claim on a man she had no right to or she could let him have his fun and leave. Which, as she rose from the mats and brushed herself off, Mari chose to do. The unpleasant feeling (jealousy) roiling in her gut had her choosing to flee into the crowd, heading to the bar to hopefully drink away whatever was going on with her and allowing Wes to enjoy his present company without interruption.

Damn, he'd had way too much alcohol. Was he seriously bull riding on a mechanical bull with Mari Cabrera after declaring to absolutely everybody he wasn't getting on the thing?! Shit.

Wes let out a breathless laugh as Mari landed squarely on top of him, the wind momentarily knocking out the both of them. The grin on her face was infectious as she straddled him, pressing her palms against his chest — all things he was acutely aware of in this moment. The memory of that one night flickered through his mind, though he actively tried to push it aside and focus on the present moment, or else.. things would happen. "

Rusty, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow as his hands came to rest loosely on her hips, searching her eyes to check if it was okay. "Pretty sure that was you loosing your balance, princess." As his chest rose and fell with the breathlessness of it all, he couldn't help but stare at her, fucking mesmerised for a hot sec. Damn, she was beautiful. "Round two? I think I'll let you take that one solo," he drawled, something of a smirk touching his lips. "You know, since I'm rusty and gotta protect this old knee of mine. Besides, I'd hate to embarrass you twice."